Day 3-063
Day Totals: 16 hrs, 14 .3 kms

I arrive at Bloemfontein at 4 in the morning, wait for daylight and catch a taxi to the minibus station. I have no interest in exploring Bloemfontein right now... just getting out of South Africa and to Lesotho as quickly as possible. A very grungy feel to this station--and the town center as a whole, with a nuclear power plant right smack in the middle of it.

Finally the minibus fills up and we're off. There's a cheery vibe in the van as we speed through the countryside until we reach the bridge marking the Lesotho border. It's a smooth crossing, and on the other side I quick hop in a collective taxi to downtown. Lucky for me, they accept South African Rand here, so there's no need to exchange money.

All of a sudden, for the first time on this trip, I feel like I'm really in Africa. Well... I guess I should say I'm in the Africa that I'm familiar with: Western Africa. Narrow, dusty roads crammed with traffic ... a minibus station/market with stalls made from random boards and scraps... the endless parade of vendors as you wait for the minibus to fill up. Fruit... toilet paper... drinks... snacks... SIM cards... you could do your shopping without leaving your seat!

I also see the marks of poverty and poor health. The clouded eyes--as very common in West Africa, are common here as well. People struggling to make a penny here and there...

But I also feel very much at ease. I do not feel that I'm being watched or targeted. I might be the only white guy around, but no one seems to even notice.

I still want to get out of the city as quickly as possible. I'm pretty sure the charm of this country is in its countryside, not its city. And, unlike what the guidebook warns, there does seem to be plentiful transportation. So I hop on the minibus to Roma, which quickly fills up, and we're on our way .

Within minutes of leaving the city, I know I have finally found a country I can fully enjoy. Majestic hills and mountains around... a winding road that goes over ridges and into valleys, with little villages all along the way. A very walkable country.

Now I'm starting to really regret wasting so much time in South Africa that I could've spent wandering freely in Lesotho... even though that experience was important as well.

In Roma, I get off at the university and start walking. As a typical African town, it doesn't have a clear layout, just some shops along the road, and houses scattered all over the countryside. That's fine. I just want to walk and walk and soak it all in.

I continue on east, alongside children in uniform heading home from school. Kids greet me cheerfully, but no one asks for money. An older gentleman at the side calls me over for a chat . He begins telling me his life story... how he worked for years in South Africa and now has returned to his homeland... then he starts pointing out the plants all around us and telling me of their medicinal values...

I continue along the road as it starts to climb up the valley wall. To the north the valley forms a bowl, beneath majestic cliffs and forests, with a mix of more modern square houses and traditional round houses (although the round houses are not mere huts like in Senegal, rather they have windows--and sometimes even a satellite dish on top...) I'm absolutely falling in love with this country.

A lady calls me over from the side. It looks like she runs a little private kindergarden and wants the kids to meet me. Singing for kids... that's another thing I miss from West Africa. So I pull out the guitar and the kids dance along... then they sing a song for me... then I let them all try their hands and guitar strumming... All with a beautiful mountain landscape in the background .

A fellow asks if he can accompany me on my walk (he's the brother of the lady who runs the kindergarden). So we continue on together up the steep road. to the plateau at the top. It's a pleasant walk now, but I can imagine how hard it must be for kids to make this walk in Lesotho's cold, snowy winters...

We pass a couple of schoolboys. One is holding a large dead rat.

"What's he going to do with it?" I ask

"Maybe eat it. You can eat those rats, you know..."

I ask my companion what plans he has for the future. He says he hopes to go to South Africa someday, but hasn't found a way yet. In most homes here there's at least one person working in South Africa.

He tells me he has a girlfriend. "Do you plan to marry her?"

"I hope to . But that will take a lot of work. I need to pay like 12 cows for the dowry. I need many years to save up that money"

This is a stark contrast to a conversation I overheard on the collective taxi in Mossel Bay. Two South African guys were talking about their relationships... but of them had gotten girls pregnant and were whining about having to pay child support... One of them had broken up with his girlfriend because she complained about his drinking. The other planned to break up with his because "she's too rude". I couldn't help but wonder what kind of upbringing those children were going to have.

I can see how the dowry system can have a positive effect: it forces a young man to take his relationship with a woman very seriously. After investing so much into a marriage, he's not going to break up for some trivial reason... which means children are more likely to grow up with a strong, responsible father figure... and be responsible themselves .

He a man has a lot of social pressure to "be a man"... In many segments of South African society, not so much... and that might be one of the root causes of many of the problems in that country today.

He points to a gorge at the end of a valley. "That's where i did my 'rite of passage'. You stay there for several weeks, learning about traditions and respect for our elders. You live in the wild and spend the day learning and singing songs... It's a very difficult test, but if you pass it, you become a man."

Hmmm... could this be one of the keys to what makes this culture so noble and respectful? I think we're on to something here...

We reach the plateau overlooking the valley of Roma far below. Part of me wants to keep going... but it's time to turn around. It's time for me and my hiking companion to part ways. He hasn't asked for any money, but he has dropped hints about some of his financial difficulties ... so I'm guessing that this is the Lesotho way of asking for a "tip" for being my "guide"... So I give him a little something...

Back in town, after looking around a bit, I finally find a little lodge, but there's no one around, I wander around the perimeter until I find the owner, and check in for the night. Each room is a traditional round hut--but quite fancy inside... and reasonably priced.

Afterwards I head out to wander around the perimeter of the town, as herdsmen wrapped in their traditional Basotho blanket, bring in their herds of cattle. There is a bit of flat arable land--but not much. The Basotho had much of their fertile land taken away from them by the Boers. They then chose to retreat to the less desirable highlands which meant remaining poor--but free... and avoiding the curse of apartheid. I think of my song "High Lands"...

Climb up on the hillside look to the valley afar
A cloud of dust rises as the vast procession walks
Men women and children where is it they’re going?
Carrying all their earthly good seeking a new home
They have been the victims of a brutal invading force
Robbed them of their fertile land by the river below
Now to the mountains they've been forced to flee
At least they can preserve their culture and remain free
/[Which way to the highlands?]
I heard a watchman cry
Which way to the Highlands?/
Finally they pitch their tents under the shelter of a cliff
A small stream of water will be enough for them
Tomorrow they’ll start moving rocks with their bare hands
Build terraces to live off of this harsh and rugged land
Many years have past in the valley far below
Men are fat and prosperous where the wine and money flow
High up in the rocky crags these rugged folks survive
At least they are free to preserve their way of life

It is not only herdsmen and farmers that live here though . Some family subsidize their income by building small dorm buildings on their property to house students. It's quite a large, fairly modern campus, and the classrooms look better equipped than the universities I visited in Morocco...

I finish off the day with some grilled pap and chicken, served in a roadside shack.... then have a drink at an open air little club... then call it a day. The best day I've had in a long time.