“He walks the plains with hardened feet.  The hunting is good here and the gods generous.  With rocks to shelter, water for life and the African sky to humble him.  This is the bushman’s home …….tonight.” 

Lesotho, the Kingdom in the Sky.  Mountains rise out of the plains, sentries guarding the ‘loveld’ that stretches to the horizon.  Crossing the border from South Africa transports you into a land removed.  We breathed a sigh of relief as we discovered that this is a land where fear forgot to visit.  Worries are replaced by genuine smiles.  Electric razor wire fences are replaced by no fences.  Here in the solitude of the mountains the modern day stress and pressures of life have taken a holiday.

Most of this tiny 18,000 sq. mi. country is rolling pastures, zig zags of crops, eroded foothills or soaring mountains.  Heading up towards the peaks you are met with the tinkling of cow bells in the mountain wind.  We inhaled the delicate fragrance of acres carpeted with stunning purple and pink cosmos swaying to the rhythm of the breeze.  Shepherds or herders each have from 4 to 50 goats and cattle under their care.  Armed with a stick and sporting new gum boots these solitary fellows, usually wrapped in a brightly woven wool blanket, hiding under a unique Basotho reed hat, go slowly on their way.  Still a position of esteem, this simple shepherd existence allows for months on end wandering the mountains; just him, his animals and Nature.  Smoke  pours out of the few shepherd’s rock huts dotting the mountain sides but mainly these rugged souls just curl up under their blankets and sleep under the phenomenal night skies.  Up here, without a single light piercing the darkness, you can reach out and touch the stars. 

After crossing “God Help Me Pass” Maari Safari decided she had endured enough mountain driving so we pulled over at a little area near a stream.  Up we went scaling the boulders until we found a deep pool, just made for bathing.  We plunged in, luxuriating in the sun warmed pool I even washed my long hair and a few clothes.  Then we basked in the sun, enjoying the panoramic views below.  The next morning we put our chairs out on the edge of the ravine and ate our fruit salad. We sat sipping a hot cup of rooibush herb tea to ward of the chill in the air, relaxing in the calming stillness of the mountains.  Soon a herder bare to the waist strolled by, stood and stared, oblivious to the cool mountain air.  Curious both, we invited him to sit down and poured him a cup of tea.  Katso’s herd eating around us, consisted of 51 goats and 17 cows.  We had seen him the evening before.  He had driven his animals straight up the mountain to a little rock ledge and spent the night curled up under his blanket.  With no education he was like a curious little child.  When we told him how breathtaking the mountains were he spread his arms out and exclaimed, “It’s big, my home!”  Each season he is given several animals as payment and he carefully guards his new flock along with that of the owners.  At some point he will be able to sell part of his herd, buy land, build a house and get married.  He may someday encourage one of his sons to become a herder as a way to advance in life in this land of little promise.

After an interesting afternoon looking around in the bustling capitol of Maseru we headed back out to the quiet countryside near Roma. We parked out in a field and awoke to a completely flat front tire. Always happens on a weekend!  A helpful farmer went racing away and returned with a bicycle pump!  That was just one example of how helpful everyone is in Lesotho.  Kennedy, a ‘rasta’ man, stopped by and as soon as we put on our feeble spare tire we followed him to his little backpacker hostel to park until Monday morning, when the tire shops opened.  He and ‘mahoa’ wife Rose, from Texas, opened a day care for 3-6 year old orphans whose parents had died of Aids, many of whom are HIV positive themselves.  We visited the school the next day surrounded by hordes of little sweethearts wanting hugs and attention.  As with many countries in Africa, conditioned by missionaries, black locals assume that white visitors ought to give them money or gifts, apparent from the insistent begging by young and old alike.  Kennedy was perplexed why foreigners wouldn’t just give money towards the school, instead of giving gifts for the children, thus cutting him out of the equation.  People have been very generous with their gifts thus far and the school’s children are thriving in this colorful, lively environment.