Give me sweets!

Child and grandmother in the far-out village.

Lately I haven’t been posting much about outreach because, well, not much has been happening.  Unfortunately, there were a few days where we went out and were unsuccessful in getting any interviews, and a few others where the outreach workers simply weren’t seeing any children on ART.  It was frustrating for my research purposes, but it’s actually a good thing in the large scheme of things because the fewer kids on ART, the more likely the push for prevention of mother-to-child-transmission is working!  Anyway, on of the slower days during which I only got one interview, I was in the single car to go on outreach and it was like having a girls’ day out with me, my translator and one female outreach worker who I will refer to as “M’e K”.  We had some good conversation throughout the 6-hour road trip (the furthest rondavel we stopped at was 3 hours away!), but of course there were some moments of silence.

M’e K broke one of these moments with one of the strangest questions I’ve received while in Lesotho: “Aousi (this means sister in Sesotho), what did you think of Black people when you first came to Lesotho?”  Huh?!  Doesn’t she know there are African Americans in the US? I thought to myself.  And this is basically what I told her…that I didn’t think anything of them really because I have African American friends at home and “Black” people are not an unusual sight.  “Ohhhh,” she said in the Basotho tone that I used to think meant everyone was disappointed until I realized that they simply use the opposite inflection when saying “Oh.”  I wasn’t going to let M’e K get away with asking that odd question scott-free, so I quickly replied, “M’e (which means mother in Sesotho), why do you ask that?”  M’e K went on to tell me how when she first met white people she was absolutely scared of them.  She said she thought we had different blood than Black people did, and she said she was scared to touch our skin.  How weird! I thought, trying not to giggle at her seemingly irrational fear.  Now that M’e K has been working with white people for a long time, she is not remotely scared of us…in fact she gives me hugs often.  Reflecting on our conversation, though, I guess I could see why she was so scared.

These little girls giggled at me a lot...and had their own conversation during our entire outreach visit!

His belly is just too cute.

In Lesotho, especially in rural Mokhotlong, there are villagers and townspeople who have never seen a white person before.  In fact, when I walk around town or go into a village, I feel like a total spectacle.  I tend to find that teenagers wave and try to speak basic English to me, a lot of babies cry when I wave to them (not kidding, you should hear the sobs that come out if I just touch the arm of a few of them!), and most adults just sort of stare at me as I walk past.  It’s honestly is quite weird being the minority!  I sometimes feel uncomfortable because a few people will ask me for money or will ask where I am going and insist on me going with them, but most of the time it is quite entertaining.

Helping M'e Kokenyana weigh a TTL client.

I get a kick out of it most on outreach because children walking home from school along the road will spot me in the car and just yell out, “Give me sweets!”  I’m not really sure why they think that all white people have sweets considering there wasn’t a day I brought candy with me on outreach (besides, what kind of global health student would I be if I started handing out pure sugar to malnourished children?).  Often times, when we show up in a village on outreach, as soon as I get out of the car every child from the surrounding rondavels comes running to check out the “lekhooa” (leh-hoo-uh, the Sesotho word for white person).  I always tell them hello and ask how they are in Sesotho, but usually they just giggle and stare back at me…I have yet to figure out if it’s because they are scared of me or if they are just totally confused that I threw some Sesotho phrases at them.  Either way, it’s always a funny experience.  I figured out pretty quickly that whipping out my camera, snapping a picture of them, and then showing it on the screen is usually a successful icebreaker.  Speaking of kids being amazed by my presence, I had one little Chinese girl (oddly, there is a small Chinese population in Mokhotlong) follow me around her parent’s entire grocery store from the moment I walked in until the second I stepped out.  The Basotho workers at the store kept saying, “Oh, she likes you a lot!”  Yea, I realized that quickly!  Another funny thing about being a white girl here is how often I get asked if I have a husband.  Many young men on the street yell to me, “I love you!” and “Marry me!” and “You need a Mosotho husband!”  I always say thank you and then proceed to tell them that my parents wouldn’t be happy if I never returned from Lesotho, so I unfortunately couldn’t marry them.

All the little kids who came to see me in a village about 4 hours outside of Mokhotlong.

This little girl had a baby bird for a pet, leash and all!

M’e K asked if it bothers me when people call me a lekhooa, and it obviously doesn’t.  I was actually surprised how few times I heard someone call me that (maybe they just all whispered it to each other and didn’t say it to my face), but there were a few notable times when someone saw me and just yelled it out.  One time when Colleen and I were in town together we got several “makhooa” (plural) shouts.  The other notable time was a young shepherd boy, who noticed me in the car, started screaming lokhoua over and over again, right in the middle of my white-person conversation with M’e K.

Interviewing a TTL caregiver outside a clinic at St. Theresa in the district of Thaba Tseka.

I found out that a lot of people in Lesotho actually don’t have the best impression of Americans, or simply white people in general.  A lot of it could have to do with the racial issues in South Africa, but I’m also convinced that some of the shows they see on TV (like Gossip Girl and reality TV) aren’t the best representations of American culture or people.  Both my translator and Maseeng told me before they met me or the other white people at TTL they had no desire to ever really meet an American…I’m glad I played a role in changing their mind about us!  In my last few days in Mokhotlong I was walking around town with my translator and we couldn’t get more than 100 yards without someone calling to her asking why she was hanging out with a white girl…apparently some people think when a Mosotho hangs out with a white person they are a gold digger.  Luckily, most of the people in town have heard about TTL so when they learn why she is with me they understand…and I like to think they are just jealous!

Handing out nutritional supplements to TTL clients outside the clinic at St. Theresa in Thaba Tseka

I honestly think I got really lucky that I landed a field experience where the people are so friendly and are typically just genuinely curious about me and what I am doing in the most rural part of Lesotho.  I felt safe walking around town alone and talking to strangers even so far away from home.  I think it might be weird getting back to the US and seeing so many white people in one place, considering every time I saw a white person in Mokhotlong I was shocked and excited and curious all at the same time (am I becoming a Basotho?!).  Let’s just hope I don’t start asking everyone for sweets!

Some beautiful pictures of the Lesotho sun.

The national plant of Lesotho.