This post goes out to all my fellow logistics ladies and gents. Whether you’re currently in the field, an alumni, or back in the office at AIM, keep on keepin’ on…
God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.
Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.
The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob if our fortress.
Psalm 46: 1-3, 10-11
My alarm goes off at 2:30am. I rummage around in my sleeping bag and locate my clothes I have carefully put in my sleeping bag the night before so they aren’t completely freezing. I manage to get dressed and check my watch. It says 1:40 and suddenly it clicks in my brain that my iPod is set to the wrong time zone so my alarm was set an hour early. I attempt to fall back to sleep for an hour but this is unsuccessful. At around 2:45am (for real this time) I wriggle out of my sleeping bag into the cold night. Outside I am met with a big hug from a still mostly asleep Jay. A little after 3, Pastor Tsepo arrives to take us to Maseru to try to get visas for Jay, Hakyeong, and Sara, the three Koreans on our squad. He apologizes for being a bit late and says it is because he had to push the car 100 meters to get it started. I know we are in for an adventure.
I’m sitting in the front seat, unable to sleep, as I keep my eyes on the road and continually hold my breath because we come scarily close to the guard rails all too often. After about an hour and a half of driving, we leave the paved road in the dust, literally. It’s still dark and some large bunnies pop up on the side of the road. They have the biggest ears I have ever seen. One ends up under the wheel as Pastor Tsepo chases the other with our headlights so Jay, Hakyeong and Sara can get a glimpse from the back of the car. At least that one survives… We continue along the dirt road and come upon a large truck taking up the majority of it. Pastor pulls over and stops to let the truck pass. Our engine dies. Oops. He tells us he needs a push to get it started. The four of us get out of the car on this dirt road in the dark and push the little car. Nothing happens. We give it another go and this time the engine starts. Back in business. The rest of the trip to Maseru seems relatively uneventful: we almost hit a dog, there is a beautiful sunrise, and I fall in love with some enormous trees that I’d like to climb in order to sit and read a good book.
We arrive at the embassy a little before 9am. I’ve been awake for over 7 hours at this point. There is no ticket or number system, there are just chairs that apparently make up the queue (why yes, I have started using the word queue, thanks Beth). By about 10:30 Sara makes it up to the window. After talking to the lady for a bit she comes back and to let us know we don’t have everything we need for the applications to go through. The lady is making calls and gathering some additional information for Sara so we sit and wait some more. Eventually Sara goes back up to the window and talks to the lady again. She finds out in detail the additional materials we need for them to apply for visas, but also that it seems they can’t even apply for the visas without a Lesotho resident permit. This leaves me perplexed. We leave and wait outside for Pastor Tsepo to come and get us for almost an hour. It is cold and rainy. We pass the time and try to keep warm by doing our squats for squat challenge (#healthtrack) and running in place. I think this is hilarious for the people in the embassy front office to watch.
Pastor Tsepo arrives and we momentarily think about going to South Africa to try to get visas there, but then realize the Koreans would not have passports to get back in the country so that plan goes down the drain quickly. We head to a mall and everyone grabs some lunch. The car, which was supposedly fixed while we were at the embassy, won’t start after lunch. It’s raining. We push the car out of the parking spot and then forward in the parking lot until it starts. I am feeling frustrated but hey, at least I have a coke zero. It’s the little things. We make a detour somewhere in Maseru to run an errand and then we are officially on our on our way home to Mokhotlong.
All is going well on the drive, to begin. By about 4pm we’ve made it to the town, which is close to the border where we entered at the beginning of the month. We should be about 4 hours from Mokhotlong, or so we think. Pastor Tsepo gets some groceries for his wife and we are back on the road. We’ve been alerted there is possibly snow ahead so we are racing to beat it. We begin to climb the mountain pass and we can see snow on the peaks. We hit an incline and we start to slide back. There isn’t even snow on the road so this is not a good sign. We are able to get the car to grip and go. We continue the climb. We hit snow and things get a little dicey but we slowly press on. We hit a lodge and stop for a bathroom break. I am thinking that we are through the worst of it. It must be all downhill from here. Right?
Soon we are head on with a stopped truck. We are sliding too much to pass it so we just stop. A van comes up behind us and Pastor Tsepo convinces him to pull us up the mountain. A rope, no thicker than my index finger, is tied between the two cars. As the rope is being tied, I get out my phone and pull up Psalm 46 and read it aloud. Words we would need to be reminded of more than once on this night. We begin the slow climb up the mountain. Things are progressing when all of a sudden SNAP, the rope breaks. We begin sliding backwards. Pastor Tsepo puts on the breaks and honks the horn. Soon they are retying the broken rope. Up we begin again. Before long, snap, the rope breaks again. Another retie and if you haven’t guess, another snap. Every time the van shifts gears, the rope snaps. Another retie and we continue up the mountain. We are going at a snails pace. In the midst of this, I can hear Gods voice say to me, ‘If I can get you through this, I will also take care of whatever you need for these visas.’ As much as I am frustrated that our trip was unsuccessful I know the situation is already taken care of by God. We somehow manage to make it to the top. We get to untie the rope. Once again we are thinking that the worst of this journey must be over. I mean, what else could happen?
The driver of the van that has just pulled us up the mountain thinks it would be a good idea if he continues to follow us on the road. I think to myself this is the best idea I’ve heard in a long time. We attempt to continue our journey on the paved road but soon hit a roadblock and have to back track. (We don’t want things to be too easy, of course.) We have covered some good ground when we come to a steep downgrade in the road. Unsurprisingly, we start to slide, this time heading both for a ditch and a stopped truck waiting to go up the mountain. We brake in time to avoid any trouble. Pastor flags down the van following us and again we get tied to the van. However, this time the van is trying to pull us backwards. The van spins in place and the rope snaps. This is clearly not going to work. The van then leaves us. We’re on the side of the road in the dark stuck in the snow. Pastor gets a call from his wife, he answers the call by saying “Honey, life is serious right now.” Yep, that pretty much explains the situation.
We are sitting in the car, engine dead, and doing nothing but getting cold. I decide this cannot continue. I suggest that perhaps we push the car or something and ask Pastor what he would normally do in this situation. He says that he would try to push the car. So I say that is exactly what we are going to do. (We may be four girls but we will not be underestimated.) We first grab a few big rocks from the ditch to stop the car should it start to slide too much. Sara is in the front seat steering and Pastor Tsepo is helping to push. We are making some progress. My toes are completely numb at this point. If you didn’t already know, Nike Free tennies weren’t made for the snow. A man comes and helps us push, but doesn’t stay long. When I realize that we are not just pushing the car out of the way of the stopped truck, we are pushing it down a hill, which is more like a small cliff, and onto a completely new road, I start to second guess my suggestion, but there is no turning back at this point. We are soon gathering snow-covered rocks from the ditch and putting them on the cliff to create traction. With Tsepo back at the wheel, we push the car over the edge. The car continues to roll and the engine starts. We run down the hill after the car and hop in, once again on the move.
We press on towards home and are in generally good spirits. We hit the mine where we have heard the next bad weather is. Things are going well until we start going down. Before long, we are slipping, sliding, and then braking, so much braking. The stone guard wall too close to my door for comfort. We are alone in the dark and cold again. This time, there are no other cars around…Will we be sleeping in the car? Why did Pastor just open the door? I’m not trying to freeze to death here. There are better ways to die…Pastor Tsepo gets in contact with the van that was pulling us earlier and the driver agrees to come back and pick us up. We wait in the car for about an hour for him to arrive.
We quickly grab our things and huddle into the van. Leaving the little car that could, but really just couldn’t, sitting on the side of the mountain. By this point, I am worried that my toes are frostbitten and wondering what I will do if they have to be amputated in the tiny Mokhotlong hospital. I am actively telling my brain to wiggle my toes and nothing is happening. There is a loose window and about every 30 seconds it slides open letting freezing air race through the car. We have to stop to cool down the engine and at that point we move to all sit together in the back of the van with a big blanket covering us. Eventually I start to recognize some of our surroundings. We are within reach of home. A few more engine cooling stops and all of our water bottles poured over the engine and we make it. I climb out of the van and I am greeted by the light still on in my room and a mostly asleep but still so sweet, Beth, who wakes up enough to say ‘Hi’ to me. I crawl into my sleep bag, toes still chilly, but I think safe from being amputated. It’s about 12:30am. 23 hours since I woke up and I hope it’s a good number of hours until I wake up again.
For those of you wondering the status of the visas:
Jay, Hakyeong, and Sara were given 30 days free in South Africa when they entered from Lesotho last week. They will be able to do a quick border run later this month, so they don’t actually have to get visas at all. What a great God we have, who takes care of us, and all our needs!
