FAMILY AWAY FROM FAMILY — PST EDITION

As PST has come to an end and I am officially a Peace Corps Volunteer, I want to tell you about the family that raised me — Lesotho style.

Over the last couple of months, my host family taught me, in every way imaginable, how to be a Mosotho woman and how to take care of myself. Peace Corps host families in Lesotho are tasked with helping us learn to fend for ourselves: how to cook, clean, wash clothes and dishes, what to wear, how to wear it — all tasks done sans electricity, running water, or the basic appliances I once considered essential.

They also ease us into Basotho culture. They tell us the do’s and don’ts, point out safe people in the community, explain expectations for women and men, and generally help us understand the rhythms of village life.

For me, the hardest adjustment was the deeply established gender roles and norms. In the capital and the district camp towns, expectations around women’s clothing were noticeably more relaxed. Even my host mom and sisters would dress differently — tighter clothes, sneakers, makeup — when they traveled to Maseru or the camp town. But that seemed to be the only reprieve from the rural norm. Men still often commanded the space with an unspoken sense of authority.

It’s ironic, because the U.S. certainly has gender expectations too — but with the semblance of choice. Back home, I can choose to assert myself, speak louder, or kick my way out of any box meant to contain me. Here, the vibe is that such “insolence” in a small village would… not be received kindly. Learning these norms was challenging, but doing so has genuinely helped me integrate into my new environment.

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MY FAMILY

My PST family consisted of two little sisters (bo-Ausi), Mahali (a teen), and tiny, energetic Lehakoe (Pre-K), along with my host mom, (‘M’e) Mamahadi, and my host dad, (Ntate) Moshe. As the youngest child in my American family, I had never been a big sister before — and suddenly I had two young girls watching everything I did and copying me. It still makes me laugh, because I don’t think I would’ve been a “good big sister” at any earlier stage of my life. The growth must’ve finally caught up to me.

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PLANES AND SWEETS

My family told me that many Basotho children believe all airplanes bring sweets. So on days when we sat outside washing clothes or cooking, a plane would pass overhead, and Lehakoe would immediately start chanting, “Bring me sweets, chocolates, and chips!”

Once, when she asked me if I brought her sweets, I teased her: “Do you think I’m a plane?” Without missing a beat, she stretched out her arms, yelled vroooomm, and started running around pretending to be one.

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FARM LIFE

My family’s livelihood is farming — selling corn, peas, and growing many other crops. One day, I spent about an hour and a half helping pick and peel peas. I now look at a single can of peas very differently: one can took me about 2.5 hours of labor. Their family compound also housed sheep, pigs, and a goat. It was never quiet, and I loved it. It also fed my curiosity about baby animals — at this point, I’ve met baby sheep, goats, cows, pigs, and donkeys (though I think it’s funnier to say “baby animal” for all of them). I am deeply fulfilled, lol.

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END OF PST

Now that PST is over and I’ve moved in with my second, permanent host family, we still talk on the phone every other day. It surprises me how much I miss them. PST was one of the most exhausting, time-consuming periods of my life, and I never truly had space to reflect on the relationships forming around me.

Yet somehow, without noticing it, I became part of that family. When people ask my clan, I proudly tell them I belong to the Cat Clan — the clan of the Moshes. Even though I now have a new last name and new little siblings, that first family will always be my Lesotho foundation.

Keneoue Moshe