Theme of the First Three Months at Site: Break All Familial Ties to America

Myself and another volunteer I’m close with have been pretty glum these past few days. The realization that we are stuck in a foreign country during the holiday season has finally caught up to us. To make matters worse, it’s summer here. So I’m hot and alone on Christmas. Yikes.

Jokes aside, we’re in a country where roughly half the population has electricity and half does not, which means there is virtually no familiarity with Christmas as we know it in America.

I call this period “break all familial ties to America.”

For the first three months at permanent site, volunteers are not allowed to travel or stay anywhere but their homes overnight. It’s clearly a tactic to promote integration into our host communities and to protect us while we rebalance after leaving the security blanket of PST. Still, despite the logic, it can feel incredibly isolating and lonely.

Originally, my family was supposed to go to a village a couple of hours away, leaving me with “protection” for the night. Yes — protection.

Holidays in Lesotho often involve lots of drinking, drugs, and fighting. In any other setting that might just be a nuisance, but being the “rich” American means there’s a real possibility that intoxication could embolden nefarious behavior with a volunteer in mind. Scary, right?

Thankfully, my family decided to stay home for Christmas. What I thought would be a day filled with fear and loneliness changed completely.

I decided to buy a chicken for my family, and then my brother taught me how to slaughter it.

It was definitely a neuron-expanding experience. I spent the entire morning helping prepare lunch, cooking with my family, and playing with the kids.

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We had fried chicken, beetroot salad, carrot salad, rice, and custard. Absolutely delicious.

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After Christmas, I went to visit one of the shopkeepers who is slowly becoming my second family away from home. He and his wife are always giving me snacks and treats, and they call me by my American name. It’s honestly so refreshing. I’m called Keneoue (Ken-ney-WAY) so often that hearing “Kamrin” can be startling.

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At the shop, he gave me a cola (YUM) and food he had prepared. I sat with them for a few hours before heading home as night activity began to ramp up. I knew it was time to get off the streets.

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It’s New Year’s now, and so far all I’ve done is watch Wicked: For Good and eat a delicious breakfast. My family did go to visit our extended relatives today, so I’m on my own — but I feel less afraid than I would have just days ago. I plan to stop by the shopkeeper’s store later to spend time with familiar, friendly faces before heading home to watch more movies (doors locked, of course). A truly lovely evening.

New Tears Eve, as the clock ticked down, the kids and I popped fireworks — or, as they call them, crickets.

All in all, the holiday season was different, but still good. What could have been a deeply sad time turned into something unexpectedly meaningful. Cheers to 2026, and wishing everyone a wonderful New Year.

Keneoue