'Me Tsita, the principal of the school where I taught in my Peace Corps days, was waiting for me at the airport, along with another teacher and a couple former students. “You don't look older,” said one of the students, Mosebatho. “We thought you would look older.” None of them looked older either. But everything around us did.
We got into 'me Tsita's blue Volkswagen Polo and it showed wear and tear. The gear shifter was held together by duct tape, and the fabric on the passenger door had been partially ripped off. We turned onto the Main South Road, headed to Maseru, and I watched the gray asphalt pass beneath us. It was warped and potholed more than I remembered it. Through the small town of Mazenod, litter floated along the roadside. Queen II, the country's main hospital, had rusty roofs and shabby grass growing everywhere.
Why was I only noticing dirt and dilapidation? I wasn't in a bad mood. I was elated to be here. I wondered if it was because when I had left in 2007 I was used to Lesotho, but my eyes had been elsewhere for over two years.
Then we rounded a corner and, in a wild area where I remembered people huddling around bonfires of trash during winter mornings, just down the hill from the prison, a shopping mall had popped up. Construction had finished months ago, and it is the fanciest complex in Lesotho. It has a number of South African chain stores inside, including the grocery store Pick 'n Pay and the fast food joint Ocean Basket, which actually offers sushi. There is also a six-screen movie theater. In other words, Lesotho now has a movie theater!
From what I observed on the drive from the airport to the center of Maseru, I articulated an attitude people seemed to have: Build something and use it until it falls into disrepair. Then, rather than doing maintenance, build another something new. Anyway, Lesotho is developing. That much is certain.