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Tag: Lesotho

  • African shoestrings – South Africa Day Sixteen

    The rest of our journey in Lesotho passed without incident as we passed the odd town, which appeared more western than those we had seen in the Malealea area, but still dusty and neglected and yet somehow thriving and functional!
    As it was Sunday a lot of the locals tend to dress in their best clothes and we were treated to men in their shiny black suits and women in colourful dresses wondering along the road on their way to or from somewhere or other.

    The Buthe border post was a lot quieter than Maseru Bridge however we still had get out of the car and go to the Lesotho passport control for a stamp, go back to the car, drive across the border, get out of the car, go to the South African passport office for another stamp and get asked a question or two and then finally get back in the car and drive past customs officials who normally just look at you suspiciously. Today however we were pulled over and our passport and car registration nos. duly noted by a rather stern and non-communicative official.

    Now back in South Africa the difference is almost startling, no longer are there numerous villages clinging to the roadside. If there are any they are usually hidden away from the road. Where in Lesotho there are either signs of erosion or intensive tracts of crops, here the countryside is in the main, relatively unscarred.

    The previous white apartheid regime seemed to always create two towns, the white dominated main town centre and its white suburbs and about 5 kilometres away the black dominated satellite. This is, of course, all changing but the evidence is still there as the population both black and white grapple with the changes necessary to evolve into a fair and equitable society. Nowhere is the difficulty more obvious than a place called Clarens, about 40 kilometres north of Buthe Buthe.

    Clarens is trendsville! Curio shops and cafes jostle for your attention along the single short main street. You could have been anywhere in the western world. White South Africans from the bigger towns around strolled and stopped for lunch or a drink enjoying their day out. There was not a black face to be seen. For us after just ‘roughing’ the last week in Lesotho, it was timely if somewhat culturally disturbing. We had a nice lunch in “Bruce’s Pub” and then moved on.

    A singer from the Basotho children's choir near Malealea, Lesotho
    A singer from the Basotho children’s choir near Malealea, Lesotho

  • African shoestrings – Lesotho Day Fifteen

    That tricky river crossing was the final challenge and can you believe it wee stopped for lunch about ten minutes from there!
    We just wanted to get it over and done with!
    David & Clement had been unable to talk to each other as much because of David having to spend a fair amount of time controlling the now impatient and eccentric Black Label. So we figured that they wanted to have a final ‘chat’ before heading home.
    The crossing was actually no big deal going back. This time we were climbing the steeper side of the gorge and it’s a lot more comfortable looking up than down. For me riding a sure-footed and obedient pony made a big difference.

    We got back at around 1.30 pm and despite feeling dirty and dusty we headed for the bar and stayed there for the rest of the afternoon.

    The next day we headed out back to South Africa.

    The road was pretty much the same until we reached Maseru.
    To avoid the city centre we had to travel along the eastern outskirts. Even though we had been assured that there was no danger by almost everyone, this area seemed uncomfortably close to the spot where all the rioting had happened 6 months ago. We passed several buildings that had been gutted by fire or looting and appeared to be sitting there unused and ignored.
    But we never felt threatened by the many people who were going about their business not in the least bit interested in two potentially nervous white tourists.

    What did make us uncomfortable was a lone policeman standing in the road waving us down. You hear lots of stories of corrupt African police officials extorting money from helpless tourists in exchange for not impounding their vehicle, luggage, children or anything else that’s worth them confiscating.
    He examined the tax disc on the front of the car very closely as if it was strange flaw in the windscreen. His face lit up on viewing my Australian drivers licence and said beaming, “Aha, from Australia! Kangaroo!” We laughed with him at this obviously witty and perceptive comment not realising at the time that this was going to be repeated many times by what seems now to be an army of officials, bureaucrats, tour guides, hotel workers and any other smart arse that inadvertently wanted to piss us off!
    He waved us on politely still beaming at his joke.

    Women cleaning the outside of a mud hut near Malealea Lesotho
    Women cleaning the outside of a mud hut near Malealea Lesotho

  • African shoestrings – Lesotho Day Thirteen

    David & Clement talked incessantly amongst themselves in SeSotho. To us of course it was rabble of noise punctuated by frequent loud hearty African laughs. What they were talking about was anyone’s guess.
    Normally on these treks, one guide is enough for six people but as we and Olive and Petra had booked separately somehow we had ended up with a guide each. We think it was more to create employment rather than any real need for two guides.
    So I guess these two guys were making use of the opportunity of having a real conversation whilst working, instead of having to continually talk to ‘dumb’ tourists.

    They did stop talking when we came across a store in the middle of nowhere. Not another building or village was to be seen. But what silenced David and Clement were the big mouthfuls of beer they took from the couple of cans of Castle purchased from this place.

    Our destination was the village of Ribaneng, famous for its falls and where our “five star” rondavels awaited us.
    Well I guess almost anywhere can look five star after a day in the saddle.
    Basically it was a mud hat with about ten mattresses on its spartan and dusty floor and a couple of gas rings with a gas bottle. Lighting was five star candles and BYO torches and our toilet was the long drop variety located down the end of a vegetable garden in a small wooden hut.

    The falls itself was almost out of view and was according to Clement an easy two hour return “stroll”.
    Guided by yet another David, we brushed rather uncomfortably through rough vegetation, jumped and hopped from one huge boulder to another and slipping on the many small stepping stones along and around the river.
    It’s at this point that I would like to describe to you a wonder, a creation of nature so beautiful that it brought tears, a spectacular feast for our eyes but I can’t.
    It’s not that it’s indescribable nor that it’s too wonderful for words, well it was just a waterfall and after the struggle to get there it was just not the spectacle that we had hoped for. It was, well, sort of nice, nice and boring.
    And with that we struggled back to camp.

    Maloti Mountains of Lesotho in the early afternoon light.
    Maloti Mountains of Lesotho in the early afternoon light.

  • African shoestrings – Lesotho Day Twelve

    Somehow we made progress until we reached the river crossing about an hour in.
    In fact it wasn’t actually the river crossing that was the problem, it was the steep, narrow, rocky path that zig zaged down the side of a small gorge at an angle that would make you think twice about walking down there, let alone ride a pony, that had me spooked. Black Power stumbled down at her almost standstill pace whilst Black Label wanted to go down at breakneck speed and consequently was forever trying to overtake.
    Well let me tell you there was absolutely no room for overtaking and it took a lot of “wooing” and pulling in the reins to keep him back. Far below I could see Sue and Olive patiently waiting with David. Clement was with us trying to speed up Black Power, slow down Black Label and hold onto the packhorse. Eventually we made it down physically unscathed but mentally frazzled.

    The rest of the journey was a lot easier and I was able to relax a bit and take in the view without fear of my psychopathic pony deciding to crack on to Black Power and take us both down some steep ravine (Clement came up with the idea of keeping Black Power behind us rather in the front).

    The scenery was pretty much the same as we had experienced on our previous days walk. A continuous range of high country surrounding us, it seemed as if it we would have to climb great heights to go forward but somehow that never seemed necessary, there was always a low pass to take us through the mountains.

    There were plenty of villages too. I couldn’t help thinking that the Basotho people lived in a country that has a GDP of US$ 2255.00 per person and yet they appeared to live their lives quite happily. By comparison, Namibia has a GDP of US$8190.00 per person and the USA a GDP of $ 53,000 per person!

    When we passed the villages or just the odd traveller they all said hello and gave us that broad watermelon grin that you just couldn’t help but return. They seemed so content and peaceful! Maybe a good GDP is not as important as economists of the western world would have us believe.

    A sheep herder stands overlooking a gorge in the Maloti Mountains of Lesotho.
    A sheep herder stands overlooking a gorge in the Maloti Mountains of Lesotho.

  • African shoestrings – Lesotho Day Eleven

    The Pony trek itself was something else.
    Now as corny as it sounds, I always get the dude horse.
    I once rode a horse that flatly refused to go anywhere, another time, a horse that would only go in one direction, home, which is fine at the end of a ride but is a bit inconvenient at the beginning!
    The last four legged animal I had ridden was a mule in the Grand Canyon and she was the only one that slipped and stumbled, generally near the edge of a trail where there was not much else between you and the rocky ground some 600 metres below.
    These ponies however are different; they’re Basotho ponies.
    The Basotho pony is the result of cross breeding small Javanese and full sized European Horses. Strong, sure-footed and docile it has been a popular mode of transport for many villagers, particularly in the highlands, since the early nineteenth century and now used for tourists in several places in Lesotho.

    Strong, sure footed and docile were words that seemed heaven sent if only it were true of Black Label, the pony that was selected for me by Mick.
    Sure it was strong but it was also disobedient, frisky and clumsy. My wife, Sue’s pony, Fox was good, as was Olive’s pony. Olive and Petra, two young German girls (well a lot younger than us anyway) were our companions together with two local guides Clement and David (a different one) and a packhorse or is it a packpony?
    Anyway Petra’s pony, Black Power was even worse than mine. Slow, stubborn, disobedient and almost paranoid, if a pony can be such a thing, of having her arse smelt at any opportunity by Black Label. I was bringing up the rear behind Petra and Black Label just couldn’t help himself. Even after Clement changed the order so that Petra was two ponies in front, Black label would make a beeline for Black Power’s rear end. The matter was made even worse by Black Power’s stubborn insistence to go at a speed half that of everyone else.

    Ponies and Riders take a break with the backdrop of the Maloti Mountains of Lesotho.
    Ponies and Riders take a break with the backdrop of the Maloti Mountains of Lesotho.

  • African shoestrings – Lesotho Day Ten

    That night the local Basotho children’s choir performed for us. It was quite stirring stuff. They sung songs of peace and hopefulness with a great deal of emphasis on finding a solution for the poverty and a drug problem that was, surprisingly, becoming more prevalent amongst their youth.
    They were followed by the local band that played on what can only be described as DIY instruments. David our guide from the morning walk played the drums, an inner tyre tube stretched over a small metal drum with pieces of metal strung together acting as symbols.
    The music itself was just OK but watching these guys make any sort of rhythm from this collection of tip rubbish was amazing.

    Amongst the other spectators, supposedly sharing this experience were a group of ‘overlanders’.
    For the uninitiated overlanders is a nickname for tourists generally in the 20 to 30 year old age group who travel in a large truck with usually around 20 others, a driver and leader, camping and other equipment of various uses and food. These groups usually travel great distances and their trips can take from three weeks to several months depending on the itinerary. Some for instance will travel from London to Cape Town!
    Now we’ve seen these groups before and were in fact tempted to join one before arriving and probably for a lot of single people it’s a good way to travel. What had made us go cold on the idea was a description of trip that someone (I forget who) gave us.
    Apparently a lot of people tend to travel this way to either get pissed or to get laid or both.
    Now maybe some of you reading this are saying what’s wrong with that? Well, that’s fine if you don’t interfere with anyone else who doesn’t share the same sort of cultural enlightenment.
    In this particular situation there were two or three who actually didn’t care much about anyone else in the audience. They strutted around the place with their puny fat torsos exposed for us all to admire (sadly they were all male), bottle in hand, making a fair bit of noise and not the least bit interested in the entertainment!
    The quality of tourists is just not what it used to be.

    Basotho children's choir in Malealea, Lesotho singing for guests.
    Basotho children’s choir in Malealea, Lesotho singing for guests.

  • African shoestrings – Lesotho Day Nine

    The main reason why we had come to Malealea was to go Pony trekking. Somehow though, Mick had not only talked us into taking an ensuite cabin rather than a lot cheaper Basotho hut but had also persuaded us to wait a day before going Pony trekking. I’m glad he did because that allowed us to walk to the Botsoela waterfall.

    For the measly sum of around A$5.00 we hired a guide, David to take us to the falls. David was probably around 6 foot tall and quite well built and to our surprise, was only twelve years old! He obviously did this often, because towards the end of this four hour jaunt, we had trouble keeping up.

    Malealea village itself was our first taste of the Bastho way of life. Mud huts and houses with small areas of crops in the garden, smoking fires, ladies patching up the mud walls and children approaching us once again with hands outstretched for “sweets”.
    Some of the mud huts had different colour flags flying. This David told us was all to do with beer.
    A white flag meant that beer made from Sorghum had just been brewed. If it was yellow then it was Maize beer.
    Having tried Maize beer before we decided not to pursue any potential tasting.

    This  for the village of Ha Mohlakana, on the way back, was pretty much the same, except it had absolutely priceless views. In fact all along the walk we had difficulty in looking where we were walking. We just couldn’t take our eyes off the almost Tibetan scenery.

    The falls themselves were a bit tame but every cloud has a silver lining. The crystal clear water in a small pool at the base of the falls to dangle was perfect to refresh our aching feet in.

    The Botsoela waterfall near Malealea in Lesotho
    The Botsoela waterfall near Malealea in Lesotho

  • African shoestrings – Lesotho Day Eight

    We decided to celebrate our feeling of freedom at the Lodge bar. Well it was a sort of bar but more like a counter in a small cupboard. We managed to find a couple seats outside with some of the other fellow guests, the odd local ex pat, a few locals from Maseru (the capital, some two hours drive away) and ‘just a few’ American Peace Corp volunteers.

    The Peace Corp boys and girls were a pretty lively and interesting bunch. Four or five of them were based in this area and this was their ‘local’. For all of them local is not the right word, in getting here for their once a week gathering, they have to hitch from as far as 100 kilometres away!

    Overall there are 50 in Lesotho and 6000 worldwide who generally live in the same conditions as the people they have come to help. Often there’s no running water, sewerage and electricity and the living conditions are pretty basic by western standards. Without the immune system of the locals, they have to live with the constant threat of illness or disease. There is usually only one peace Corp volunteer per village or area so contact with other volunteers is reduced to once a week or even month. These guys are all in their early 20’s so it’s tough for them especially at the beginning and they do all admit to some initial culture shock.
    Mind you by volunteer standards they are well compensated with a local monthly allowance of US$125.00 in local currency plus a monthly allowance paid into their bank account at home. If they complete the two-year term they get a plane ticket home via any destination of their choosing plus a substantial bonus.

    Brian and Kim told us that the most frustrating part was the fact that often the locals do not actually want help. “They’re just happy doing what they’ve always been doing. For example a farmer will plough his field or plant his crop the same way his ancestors did regardless of the consequences of erosion or soil salinity. So our job is to try and educate them on why they need to change. It’s not easy!”

    None of this, I might add, stopped them from enjoying a drink or two whilst we there!

    Maloti Mountains of Lesotho in the late afternoon light.
    Maloti Mountains of Lesotho in the late afternoon light.

  • African shoestrings – Lesotho Day seven

    Malealea Lodge is at the top of a hill right next to Malealea Village. The lodge itself is a collection of chalets, huts, a dorm and a bar/store dotted among Pine trees and areas of brown lawn. Set to one side away from the other buildings, stood a colonial style house that the old man at the gate pointed us towards.
    There we managed to find Mick Jones with his feet up on the veranda overlooking the Malotti. Mick owns and runs Malealea with his wife Di. At the time, Mick stayed all the time at the lodge whilst Di ‘commuted’ to their office in Bloemfontain in South Africa.

    We watched Mick from our chalet veranda striding around and barking instructions at his employees in the local lingo, SeSotho, until the afternoon thunderstorms that had been threatening all afternoon, turned on a show.

    Thunderstorms are a way of life here. Incredibly more people die in Lesotho from lighting strikes than any other single cause. Which is really surprising considering the way they drive! I suppose the bottom line is that a country as poor as Lesotho, it’s one of the world’s poorest, doesn’t have that many cars but does have plenty of people travelling by foot. When you travel by foot in such a mountainous country the risk of getting struck by lighting is relatively high.

    That’s not to say that it’s unsafe to walk around Lesotho, it’s just some care is required during their thunderstorm season in the summer months.

    The spectacle of these thunderstorms is a show not to be missed, especially after dark.

    Watching this show brought home to us that we were actually living our dream. We were away from our home, family and friends travelling the world without a care, except that constant nagging fear of spending too much money. It was a great feeling and a place like this was what it was all about.

    Mother and Boy outside a hut, their home in the mountains of Lesotho
    Mother and Boy outside a hut, their home in the mountains of Lesotho

  • African shoestrings – Lesotho Day six

    Malealea Lodge is set in the quaintly called Valley of Paradise that’s about 2200 metres high.
    To get to it, after travelling on what can only be described as the ‘road from hell’, 13 kilometres of potholes loose rock and shifting gravel, you have to travel through the “Gates of Paradise”.

    This is a pass with such a beautiful vista, that a guy called Mervyn Smith left the words “Wayfarer Pause and Look Upon a Gateway of Paradise” inscribed on a plaque.
    Mervyn also founded the Malealea trading post so I guess you could accuse him of being a little bit one eyed.
    Even so the view is magnificent and gives the feeling that you are entering a secret valley of gentle rolling hills with a dramatic backdrop of mountains and storm clouds, hidden over the centuries by the locals from the mass commercialism of the white man.
    As we stood absorbed by all of this, one of those buses that can only be found in the third world, charged up the hill towards us and came to an abrupt stop amongst it’s own clouds of diesel fumes.
    This was the local bus stop and this vehicle was unloading some of it’s cargo of bags, people, children, chooks, goats and anything else that could hang onto the outside or be crammed into the interior, there were even two guys on the roof!
    Before I had time to point the camera it was off again, incredibly still jammed packed and leaving behind clouds of black smoke and some of the cutest kids that have ever been put on this earth.
    Three of these kids came up to talk us, which we thought was so nice until they stretched out the palm and asked for money or “sweets”.

    Young girl from Lesotho looking for her mother on a remote roadside.
    Young girl from Lesotho looking for her mother on a remote roadside.

  • African shoestrings – South Africa Day five

    Our next destination was a place called Malealea Lodge located in a remote part of the South West of Lesotho.
    Malealea Lodge is known for it’s Pony and Walk treks amongst other things.
    We had managed to contact them from home not only to find out info but to ask about the security of entering Lesotho on our own.
    Before we left Australia we had taken the precaution of checking with the Department of Foreign Affairs and the British Foreign Office web sites to see if they had any travel warnings about any of the countries we proposed to visit. Well they had!
    Both advised that travel to and in Lesotho should not be taken independently.
    Apparently about 6 months before there was a protest by the opposition party at the election results.
    The government declared a state of emergency and called in the South African army. This triggered off a two day violent protest with protesters looting and destroying many of numerous South African businesses in the capital Maseru.
    This unfortunately placed Lesotho on the ‘places not to visit’ list. We ‘ummed’ and ‘aahed’ about this but after talking to Di Jones, one of the owners of Malealea, decided to stick to the plan. DI had assured us that there had been no problems since and had been driving around herself without any hint of trouble.
    If by chance you’re not a great fan of mountains then whatever you do don’t go to Lesotho it’s absolutely covered in them.
    It is one of only two countries in the world to be completely encircled by another country, South Africa, (the other being San Marino) and is the size of Belgium but it’s dominated by the mountain ranges of the Drankensberg and the Maloti. In fact its lowest point is over 1000 metres.

    In the mountainous Lesotho, ponies are the major form of transport.
    In the mountainous Lesotho, ponies are the major form of transport.