It's Sunday afternoon, Father's Day. Paraguay is beating Slovakia on the tv in the play room and the little ones are entertaining themselves with duplos. I'm in bed because that's the warmest place in the house. Nowhere in Lesotho has indoor heating so during the winter when the electric and gas heaters are off you can see your breath inside. I am listening to my "I miss you more than I miss Sunshine in Winter" playlist (it's a winner) and trying to decide how to tell you about life in Lesotho. I think I'll give you a picture of the dinner table:
Dad sits at the head of the table, closest to the window (and therefore, the cold drafts coming in through the curtains). Except for at breakfast because he's the professional breakfast chef and is usually in the kitchen whipping up porridge or pancakes or eggs and toast, and of course, Coffee. When he's not at the table he's usually in the office working on ten things at once. To his left is Andrew, who's usually the last one in from playing with his friends and has to squeeze past three other people to get to his seat. His friends are the most important people in his life right now, which seems pretty typical of 13 year old boys. He's as tall as I am! I hate to admit it, but in a few short weeks (he's growing before my very eyes, I swear) I will become his little big sister. Isaac usually sits next to him, an eating machine with nothing to show for it. I don't know where it all goes because he's the lankiest 7 year old I've ever seen. He's usually in his own world and has to be asked at least three times to pass anything. The other night he thought something was funny and laughed so hard that he was crying, but nobody else had any idea why. I still don't know what was funny. Jackson sits next to him and is usually quieter. He's much more sensitive and needs routine in his life. If he can't have cereal for lunch everyday he gets upset. Occasionally he'll jump into a conversation with a completely random comment or question like "why do silver poles get buried halfway in the ground?" At prayer time every meal he has issues holding hands nicely with Tsepiso, one of our foster kids. Tsepiso is just a few months younger than Jack, is still learning English-often mixing it with Sesotho. He is a rascal and gets himself into all kinds of trouble. He constantly needs to be sure that everyone is being treated the same (that everyone has to brush their teeth and go to bed right after dinner, not just him). I sit next to him in a swivel-ly office chair that we bring in every night because there are so many of us. I have to share the end of the table with my Mom but we're both up getting water, juice, ketchup, hot sauce, spoons, and serving seconds and thirds so much that we're never both sitting at the same time. To Mom's left is Tsepiso's half-sister, Retumetsi, the most adorable 18 month old I have ever met. She's a little diva, always wearing pink and purple and getting attention from everyone. She's also a little eating machine, often getting thirds of anything we eat. She makes everybody laugh, especially when she's frantically waving goodbye as she gets carried off to bed. Alifa sits next to her, often also in pink. She's good at acting like the third parent and telling everyone what they're doing wrong at the table. One thing she can't comment on is Salt use. I've never seen anyone eat more salt than she does. She also tends to ask questions without thinking about whether or not she knows the answer. They make for lively conversation though. That conversation is occasionally pierced by Sechaba's infectious laughter. Being 8, he understands more english than either of the other foster kids. He fits in well with them, though, because he is the size of a three year old due to a severely deformed spine and malnutrition in his early years. He is a pro at taking medicine at every meal, currently TB treatment and antibiotics. Next to him, often being asked to pass the salt because Sechaba is also a fan, is Will. He's visiting Lesotho for six weeks from USC in Columbia conducting research on a grant program here. I like having him around cause he's willing to help out with keeping the little ones out of trouble and cooking and laundry and all the things that i'd rather get out of. He's also good at passing things and pouring juice, both necessary skills at the Dimmock table. Finally, Moses sits on the other side of Dad, completely the very crowded table. We put the sauces in front of him because he likes to add tikka, brai, nali, or sweet and sour to whatever we're eating. He regales us with funny stories from teaching PE at school (the rising-fours are his favorite class).
I hope that gives you a better picture of life in the Dimmock household. There is never a dull moment (that may also be why i'm hiding in my bed now for some peace and quiet) and always someone to feed, wash, dress, or play with. I'd say the laughs outweigh the exasperations though so life is not so bad.
I promise to put up some pictures soon.
