Caleb Jonker, the oldest of the boys, agreed to write a blogpost for Crossing the Line. Thanks Caleb!
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| The Jonker Crew in Lesotho |
We adjourn your regularly programmed blog to bring you:
Jonker Yacks.
In South
Africa, when we rose you could immediately feel the difference. We had arrived
in winter. Coming from Frankfurt, this was quite a shock at first, for
throughout the green, castle speckled hills of Germany it was still summer.
Where we stood (or fell) in Johannesburg the temperature was brisk and offered
us chills.
We, the
Jonker’s, arrived in Lesotho on the sunny afternoon the following day. Equipped
with Pineapple Fanta and some jammin’ tunes, we braved the drive to Lesotho.
After stopping in Ladybrand for some authentic food (KFC) we finished the drive
to our destination, which we thought was just around the corner. As we crested
the final hill, we hit an unexpected obstacle. A line of cars flowed from the
border checkpoint. We wondered, “How long will this take?” We all figured
(naively) that we must be close and would be through quickly. Three hours later
we finally entered the checkpoint. At this time it was nearly 10 at night.
Without hesitation we proceeded, driving through, exchanging smiles and waves
with the friendly border control. As we exited, we began to wonder, “Should we
have gotten stamps?”
After
making just enough wrong turns, we arrived at Beth and Dawn’s. A coal burning
fire greeted us warmly. And our cousins greeted us with food. After explaining
our lateness, we discussed our situation. After a compelling conversation it
was decided that yes, we were illegal aliens. The next
day we completed our journey by going back to get stamps.
Since then
we have been enjoying many adventures, and we have learned to enjoy hard work
for a good cause. Some of our highlights have included picking up a large pile
of trash, driving on the wrong side of the road, potholes, laughing at signs
with great quotes, reading booklets with exquisite (over-the-top) claims,
beautifully unique constellations, lightning, Pony Treks, and Malealea.
Because
there are so many wonderful things we have experienced, I will write of only one
more, our first project volunteering. Before you go down the small road that
leads to Beautiful Gate, you see a sign brimming with color and directing weary
newcomers to a place of safety and fellowship. The sign itself is most helpful,
but what you find at the foot of the sign will cause you to turn your head
away. It is the before mentioned “large pile of trash”. The middle class
neighborhood has chosen this site as a dumping ground. Among the rubble, many
things can be found, such as shoes, bottles, laundry detergent packaging, and a
mysterious pile of feathers are just a few to be mentioned by name. But most of
all, therein the pile lies a stench maker: diapers.
As we
approached the pile on our first day, we were awestruck by the size of the
unsightly thing. Which because we had arrived at night, we had not yet
encountered. As we began the seemingly impossible task of picking it up, we
were just warming up to the task. As some of us began to unfurl the black
plastic bags provided for us, the rest began to use metal rakes to move it into
piles. This was our first mistake, for it was unbeknown to us that under the
wrappers and trash lay the diapers. The mistake was this: metal rakes pierce
the paper-like fabric on diapers quite easily. It was decided that the rakes
should no longer be used for the task. So we went about shoveling the garbage
into the bags.
Now because
it was still early and we were so near the road, we had the attention of the
taxis. Each rolling past eyes peeled for their next customers, letting their
horn each time. This nuisance was distracting for some reason and their honks
still drew my attention even after having dealt with it for long enough to know
better.
We worked
slowly but surely and managed to put a sizeable dent in it the first day. What
we were doing must have been strange for the onlookers, but many gave us waves
and thumbs-up. But this wasn’t even the coolest thing the onlookers did. As one
man drove by he rolled down his window and pulled into the driveway. He opened
the door and after trying first Sesotho, he asked us in English whether he
could take our photos for the news. He thanked us and said that he appreciated
what we were doing to clean the corner.
Over the
next few days we finished cleaning the corner with help from some locals and
friendly bucket men, ready to start a fire. It was our first experience working
in Lesotho and has made a large impact on us.
The people here are friendlier than most places and they
never fail to smile or wave back. I would recommend that everyone comes to
visit Lesotho who can afford to make the trip, and I also recommend they get to
be with Dawn and Beth Fennema who are the most gracious hosts. And also a
special thanks to Dakotah for always brightening our days.
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| Caleb, guest blogger |
