1993

Class of'93 where areyou? My lonely mailbox in Africa is that much lonelier without any news from all of you. Consequently, you have to suffer through news of me.

I Although Jen and I still have a quarter of our Peace Corps time left (as I write this in April), we already feel as though we are on the homestretch and are alternately gripped with the satisfaction of hard work and the joy of homecoming, and the melancholy of leaving this place.

As we move into fall and imminent winter, Lesotho changes dramatically. Yes, we get winter, real winter here. Snow, freezing cold. My town, Thaba Tseka, is above 7,000 feet and, although snow was only visible on the mountaintops rimming the town last year, good dumps are not unheard of. Except that here no dump is a good dump. Yesterday I spoke with one of our neighbors about winter. She, along with most folks in Lesotho, thinks this winter will be a cold and snowy one. She spoke of the winter of '88, when snow came waist deep. My initial reaction was to think about how wonderful this would be. But then she continued by remembering the number of goats, sheep and cattle that died, and the shepherds who died with them.

Already the plants, and the gardens with them, are dying under nightly frosts. Peoples faces take on a resolute and determined mien, shrugging off the cold, steady winds and wrapping themselves tighter under the same clothes they wore all summer.

And still the air is full of laughter, happiness and mirth. The folks here are a hardy lot and I'll miss them soon enough, too soon.

Thaba Tseka English Medium School, P.O. Box 71, Thaba Tseka, Lesotho, Southern Africa; chrisonken@hotmail.com