I have a policy. It’s called the No Drama in Lesotho policy, or NDL policy. It mostly applies to dating and hooking up in a small town and the drama that often accompanies such behavior. After all, we basically live and hang out with a community of about 50 people who all know each other and each other’s bidness. But lately, I’m discovering that I need to concentrate more on applying the policy to cars. Brief weekend recap:
Oct 30-Nov1: Went to Jozi with friends who were running the Soweto 10K and marathon. (No, of course, I didn’t run. Don’t you know me?) Had drinks with an Angolan and his Mozambican wife. Our group had two cars broken into, another car stolen, and wallets, ipods and money taken too. And I want you to know that because I don’t run and was sleeping when all crime occurred, I was completely unaffected. Except for feeling deep sympathy for my friends. Then rode back to Lesotho with a French woman, an Englishman, a Maltese, and a Kiwi. Also, learned that a friend was nearly carjacked in downtown Maseru.
Nov 6-8: Baked 3 dozen bagels, 2 dozen peanut butter cookies, and 4 dozen chocolate Amarula truffles. Sold them all at a benefit bake sale to raise money for a home in Kenya for orphaned street girls and raised over $900. Clearly, we need a high-quality bakery in Maseru. Okay, no car drama here but it seemed silly to leave out a weekend.
Nov 13-15: Drove 1.5 hours to Ficksburg, South Africa, for a jazz festival. It was advertised to start at 12pm, we showed up at 3pm, and the music finally started at 5pm. Around 7pm, we heard that the parking area was getting full and that people normally stay at this festival until about 7am the next morning. Sure enough, our cars were almost blocked in, so we strategically moved them to prevent a full blockage. Three hours later, we discovered that the crazy Basotho drivers foiled us still. We had to convince a drunk man in a Jeep Cherokee to move out of the way so we could squeeze our cars thru the narrowest space possible. Then one of the cars broke down in the middle of the parking area’s dirt road, so we had to push the car out of the way using 45-point turn (push it forward, push it backwards, repeat, repeat again, and again). All while two South African policemen watched us from their truck. Two hours later, we abandoned the broken car and drove back to Maseru.
But next weekend!?! Next weekend, I will be visited by my old college roommate and two weekends from now, we’ll be in the lovely, beautiful and stylish Cape Town. What drama could possibly befall us there??





Not sure that this letter would apply to young people who are not liberal/progressive but it’s an entertaining and somewhat thought-provoking piece:


