Day Six and Seven (July 8, 2006)

The team spent the weekend traveling four hours to a mountain lodge in the centre of Lesotho in the village of Semonkong. Seven of us piled into an SUV climbing treacherous roads and hanging on for dear life. Not a good situation for anyone who suffers from motion sickness. Russell was our host and was incredibly gracious. As we made our way out of Maseru and into the surrounding countryside, he commented repeatedly on the fact that what we were seeing was the true Lesotho, the Lesotho that remains untouched by English colonialism. It was like a journey back in time. The scenery was stunning. We moved slowly and painstakingly from one mountain village to the next. Each village a collection of thatched roofed, stone and mud round huts. The villagers were all dressed in traditional garb each one wrapped in a Lesotho blanket. Scattered throughout the mountains were shepherds, sheep, cattle and goats. People were traveling by donkey and horse. Everyone exists by farming and herding. For a long stretch we listened to kd lang (true Canadians) and as she sang the “Broken Hallelujah” we moved past the sixth funeral. Saturday is funeral day in Lesotho and they are too numerous to count. In the mountains the funerals are simple gatherings on a hillside and usually by a river. They can be seen from far off - everyone is dressed in bright colours that illuminate the winter landscape. Too many funerals. It was a chilling and poignant experience with a mournful ‘Hallelujah’ beautifully sung in the background.

The Lodge was nestled by a river in the valley of Semonkong. We ate by a fire in a stone and mud dining room and slept in stone huts by the river. It was cold - down to minus 8 at night with no central heating. The shear weight of the blankets on the bed made it difficult to sleep. We had a bit too much wine with dinner and I fell asleep listening to Elisabeth’s hearty laugh from the adjacent room. Recreation and stress relief is very necessary and these Canadians do both very well. Your wake up call at the Semonkong lodge is coffee and tea brought to your room by a Besotho woman and served with cookies.

We spent two hours on Sunday morning walking to the deepest canyon on the continent and the largest waterfall. Adam, Joanne and Elizabeth rode on ponies. It is impossible to describe how beautiful it was. It was like nothing I have ever seen. On the return trip, Justina and I were invited into the hut of the richest family in the village, a simple bungalow by North American standards. Outside the village men were preparing the hide of a cow and making a traditional casket blanket for a baby that had just died. Many children are stillborn or die just after birth, especially if their mother is HIV positive. Even in this remote mountain village, many have died of HIV and 31 children have been orphaned.

We drove home that evening and I was struck again by the incredible poverty in Maseru, the country’s capital city.

Poverty, injustice and human suffering- elements we should never, ever be comfortable with. I never will be again.