28th September 2008

I have seen a lot of Lesotho now and met and talked to many people about the struggles of life, development and foreign aid in the country. I have seen enough to build up questions like, what is sustainable development in third world countries? Are communities receptive enough to continue introduced practices? Does foreign aid make people in the receiving country lazy and dependent on others? Can you help people who won't help themselves?

26th September 2008 

My introduction to the Lêtsêng Diamond Mine was started before I even got there. On the morning of my last day of walking up the Khubelu Valley towards the diamond mine, I was woken by tremendous roar. I thought it was surely thunder, but when I crawled out of my sleeping bag and went to see what I thought would be a dark dangerous sky. Instead it was a stunning day, with nothing but the blue sky and bronzed morning-mountains. I knew then that it must have been a blast at the mines, penetrating the quiet valleys which were still so far away. It increased my curiosity as to what was happening up there. Two thirds of that day was a growling uphill slog. About halfway up the last descent on a dirt road, an unusually fancy 4 wheel drive pulled next to me. Little did I know that this encounter would be the root of me being living it up for the next couple of night.

26th September 2008

Just when I thought I was high in the north being in Mokhotlong, I had a lot further to go. I had heard of the diamond mines in the north of Lesotho, and about the prized quality of the diamonds which Lesotho concealed, and I was keen to learn more about the industry. I somehow felt like all diamond mines and foreign-owned industry was a means of exploiting Lesotho’s recourses.

24th September 2008

From Sani I walked three long days down the relatively tame Mokhotlong valley to the town of Mokhotlong where I was promised good food shops to restock and internet! The villages in the top of the valley were isolated, small and friendly, as are most villages. The thing about walking seven hours everyday, is that the days seem to go so fast and villages become nameless friendly places where you pass and say hello to everyone. Days would pass with no drama or bigs stories to tell everyone. BUT I know that what seems normal to me now, is completely foreign to others, so I am compelled to tell you every detail of my journey. As usual I stayed in villages with the chiefs along the way, where each evening was spent chatting (in my brocken Sesotho) about my travels and listening to their disbelief and exclamations in the smoky cooking huts. It is my favourite part of the day! Kicking the shoes off, enjoying a massive plate of papa and moroho (corn meal bread like stuff and spinach) and watching all of the family action happen in the fire light darkness of the hut.