Back to school/funeral

So, school started back this week. School starts every morning with assembly, and my secondary school principal apparently foiled a plot to attack the school on Monday. Most of the students had done poorly on their exams, and he had heard about a plot to stone the teachers, and had told the police about it. So he told the students that he knew about it, and that they shouldn’t try anything, etc. this is not that uncommon, actually. Whenever the students in this country are upset their thoughts seem to turn towards violence. A couple volunteers a year probably end up having to leave their schools while some kind of attack dies down. As it turns out, most of the time the students are not angry with the volunteers and so avoid attacking them. That’s good, I guess.
So, yeah, most of the students didn’t do well on their exams. I got to give a round of speeches to my classes on responsibility, studying, seeking help, etc. I hate doing that: I feel so patronizing. And I think that part of the reason that I am not the greatest teacher for this country is that I expect the students to be responsible and to be motivated enough to study and seek help on their own. That’s just not how it works. Most of them are lazy and never study. They wouldn’t last a day in an American school, even if they could keep up with the language.
So I gave speeches, and at least one student listened. She came up to me and asked if she could come by my house to discuss her exam. So I will be meeting with her tomorrow, provided that she decides to show up.
Oh, and I think I mentioned that one of my students had crossed the river and entered south Africa illegally, looking for work. She apparently made it all the way to cape town, which is pretty impressive. I’m wondering how long she’ll be able to last before someone finds out that she doesn’t have a passport. I keep hoping she’ll come back and continue school. I guess I’ll have to wait and see.
So, beyond that, school was pretty normal. The students were unusually quiet and attentive. Maybe the speech worked. Or maybe they were thinking about their exams. Or maybe it was because it was the first week back, and they’ll start being little hellions again soon. We also got two new teachers at the school: one is going to help with history and English grammar, the other with business, if I remember correctly.
So, I’m only teaching Monday through Wednesday, like last term. So on Thursday I took the dog for a walk and then returned home to see if there was anything I could do to help with tsotlo’s funeral, which was to be held on Saturday. While bathing, I started to hear cow and sheep noises outside. I had been forewarned that the animals were to be slaughtered on Thursday for the meal on Saturday. Yep, that they were. I walked outside in time to see I knife being driven into the back of the cows neck, right where it meets the head. A few minutes later, and we had a skinned carcass. A group of men did the killing, and then gutted the thing. A couple minutes later a group of women wheel-barrowed a bloody mess of intestines past me. They were going to clean them so that they could be cooked on Friday. The women get the intestines and the liver of the animal, while the men get the head, hooves, and lungs. I took my dog out for a walk later and saw the animals’ heads chillin’ on the wood pile. The only reason I noticed was that the dog got really excited and was trying to pull the leash in that direction. I actually felt really sorry for the dog the past few days; because of all the people around and the dead animal bits and other food, I had to keep her tied up between Thursday and Sunday. She wasn’t happy.
As it turned out, there wasn’t too much for me to do on thurday. On Friday I walked the dog again, and then was put to work. I washed dishes and peeled goodness knows how many summer squash and potatoes for the feast the next day. The bo ‘m’e cooked the intestines that day, and I braved myself up to trying them. They were really salty, presumably because the women had heavily salted them. What really got me was the slippery texture. I managed two pieces as politely as I could and stopped there. Later I was given some other part of the cow. I have no idea what it was, but it had layers and was really gross. I gave that to another woman to eat. There were a lot of people around the house all day, helping with chopping, cooking, cleaning, etc. Also in the course of the day I noticed people going in and out of my house. My family had been storing stuff like living room furniture in my house to make room for all the visitors, but these were people I didn’t know, and all my life including money, phone, camera, etc. are in my house. Turns out that one of my sisters had directed more things to be stored in my house. These things included my family’s gas-powered refrigerator (which was never turned on), buckets, a garbage bag full of something, and a large trash can. The dog seemed really interested in the garbage bag and the trash can. They mystery of the trash can was soon explained. A couple women entered my house and opened it up to reveal bloody cut up cow pieces. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. So, of course, the cow meat had to be clean of the blood, and what better place to do so than in my house? Yep, a couple hours later, my floor and table were covered in blood. Now, I’d been ok with everything up to this point, but the blood strewn all over my house was making me a little nervous. The women finished up a little after dark, and I mentioned something to my sister, asking whether I could clean up because the mess was bothering me. I felt really bad about this because there were bigger issues at stake; her brother’s funeral was the next day. She was really nice about it, though, and the cleaned meat was moved to the rondavel to be marinated. I started to clean up, but then she came in and insisted on doing this. I tried to tell her that I was happy to do so because I knew she had so much else to do, but she wouldn’t let me.
My brother tefo had brought a generator out to the house, and wired all the rooms temporarily, including mine, so that we could have lighting in the form of lightbulbs. And tsotlo’s body was brought from the funeral home to the house and placed on some chairs in the living room until the funeral the next day. I think most funerals include an all-night vigil with much crying and wailing, but my family did not want to do that as it tends to attract drunken men. Instead they held a three hour prayer session which was supposed to last from 7 to 10. which meant that it started around 8:30 and ended around 11:30. it took place in the living room in front of tsotlo’s coffin. Basically, people could come and would take turns saying prayers or making short speeches. In between this, someone in the room would start a song and everyone else would follow in. there was a little silent crying I think, and that was about it. After the prayer session, everyone was served a small meal. I helped to serve and then sat with ‘m’e matukiso for a while. Her family had all come, and I had gotten to meet her sisters through the course of the day. They had stayed with her all day. So I talked with them for a while, and then went to sleep around 2 am. My sisters stayed up preparing for the feast the next day. This is normal, for the family to stay up the night before the funeral. I think my ‘m’e slept some, though, which was good.
So I had been told that the funeral would start at 9 the next morning. It started at 11:30 and last maybe 2 ½ to 3 hours. It began with the coffin being moved to the middle of the living room and the top of the coffin being opened to that tsotlo’s face could be seen. Then the close family walked in a circle around the coffin. Some people sang. This was so that they could see him one more time. It probably afforded some closure to people. ‘m’e broke down when she went up to the coffin, and had to be supported back to her seat by her sisters. My ntate brought her some water, and she stayed inside for the funeral. Only one other woman broke down that day, but I’m not sure who she was. After all the close family had gotten to look at him, the top to the coffin was replaced and the body was moved outside, to where the funeral was held. Tefo had set up speakers so that everyone could hear. There were people standing everywhere, both in the yard and in the path outside the yard, and in the field across from the yard as well. It began with what I presume was kind of like a eulogy. Everything that I have mentioned thus far and everything that will be said was said in Sesotho, of course, so I was only catching snatches of what was being said. Basically certain people had been invited beforehand by the family to give a short talk about tsotlo, their relationship to him, etc. after they had all finished (this was the first hour, or maybe a bit more), three preachers took turns giving sermons. When they were done a collection was taken, for the family I presume but am not sure. Then the coffin was opened again so that anyone else who wanted to could say goodbye. A long line was formed, of people passing by. I saw a couple of my students, and my primary school principal, and I was happy they had come.
After everyone had gotten a chance to view the body, the coffin was closed and placed on the back of a truck. My ‘m’e came out of the house and got into a car and my ntate got into the back of the truck, and they proceeded to the graveyard, followed by most of the rest of the crowd on foot. The graveyard isn’t far, just on the other side of the hill. Tefo went with them. My sisters and some other women stayed behind to set up for the feast. Basically, everyone who has come to the funeral returns after the burial to eat and chat. This is why all the cooking had taken place the day and the night before. Our meal included samp, rice, potatoes with beans and tomato (3 types of carbohydrates, w00t), a kind of tomato gravy for the rice, summer squash, beetroot, and meat. I helped set up the tables with food and plates, and for the next few hours helped to wash dishes, boil water, collect plates, serve food and drink, etc. I was moving around for most of the afternoon, and didn’t stop until shortly before dusk. All my sisters, and close relatives and friends, were doing the same. Eventually everyone left and things began to die down. So I went into my house and relaxed, read for a little while, and slept.
The next day (Sunday – yesterday) I woke up, passed my table, and got a whiff of something that reminded my the garbage bag that had been brought in on Friday was still around. And starting to produce a funk. I mentioned this to my sister, lerato, who explained that it contained sheep’s heads and hooves for the men, and removed it from my house. So sheep head had been sitting in my house, un-refrigerated, for 2 days. Yum. It was cooked later on Sunday. I spent yesterday cooped up in my house. I needed some solitude. I finished reading Oliver Twist, read The Alchemist, and started in on Absalom, Absalom! One of the two tents set up at my house was removed. I think the other one will be removed today. I was also given a decent amount of leftovers. These will also be given to the people who help clean up over the next couple days. Which is good, because there’s a decent amount of food left, including a 20 L bucket of samp.
So that’s a funeral in Lesotho.
Hope all is well