DISCLAIMER: Mum, Dad, don’t freak out. I’m fine. We’re all fine. Read through to the end.
“Don’t ever come back here.”
“Why?”
“It’s dangerous. Go.”
Two days ago, our team (minus Kendra Mallin, who sprained her ankle the other day) woke up at 4:30 in the morning to go out into the mountains of Lesotho for our weekly adventure day. Peter—our ministry host and the father of the family we are living with for the rest of the month —dropped the five of us off at a vista which was beside a dirt path called the Maloti Trail. So we traveled down this path, and after a couple miles of unbelievable views, we came to the end of the road at a compound with four green buildings in a rectangle, and a few shacks next to what looked like the entrance. I had been taking pictures in the mountains, but I put my camera away as we approached.
A man came out from one of the shacks and started speaking to us in the local language. After explaining that we spoke English, he expressed that we shouldn’t be there because it was dangerous. He told us to leave, and we began to. Then someone in our team had the bright idea to hike up the mountain directly next to the compound. We began to climb the mountain, and I had an uneasy feeling as we quickly reached a point where we were in plain sight of the man who had just warded us off the property. Then another man headed our way up the trail. Our team stopped hiking, and wondered how we should proceed. The group held their position as I went down the side of the mountain and approached the man on the trail. Perhaps he thought I was a local, because he too began by speaking to me in the local language. I told him I spoke English, and he said he knew very little. So he warned me in the best way he could that we were not supposed to be there because it was a military base. He also made a point of saying that we should go and never come back. It sounded terrifying, but I believe he was just making it clear that we were on private property in the best way that he could. I apologized, and said, “Nice to meet you,” extending my hand. He hesitated, and then shook it and smiled, shaking his head and waving me away. So I told the team what he had said, and we actually left.
A little ways back up the trail, we noticed that the second man I had talked to and another stranger were following us. I wasn’t too worried, but it certainly felt odd. Meanwhile, the rest of the team was not helping to assuage any fears with the thoughts they were expressing: “We just walked into a drug plantation” or “That was definitely something illegal and sketchy” etc. The two strangers took a shortcut and eventually ended up in front of us. By that time, I came to the realization that they just wanted to make sure we actually left, and that we got out safely. After a few moments of awkward silence as our team moved ahead of the pair of supposed military men, the man I had spoken to earlier said that we were not supposed to tell about what we had seen. My teammate, Luke, apologized, and we started walking again.
After a minute, the man said something to me that I could not understand about “Black man” and “White man”. I then engaged in a conversation with him.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Where do you come from?” He replied.
“We’re staying down in Roma, but we came from America. What is your name?”
“Hm?”
“My name is Casey,” I gestured to myself, “I’m Casey. What is your name?”
“I—I am Mayweather.” That is the name I have given him, because I am unsure of how to spell his actual name. But it is pronounced may-way-da. “What do you want here?” he interrogated.
“No, we just came to see the mountains. We didn’t mean to walk to where you were staying.”
“There is a sign.”
“What?”
“A sign at the trail. ‘No trespassing’.”
“Oh, we didn’t see it.”
“There is a sign.”
“Yeah, sorry. We didn’t see it.”
“Mmm.” We sat in silence for a moment as I assume he pondered how we could be so daft as to have missed what we later found out was a bright red sign at the trailhead. “Mr. Casey.” He said somewhat playfully, letting the E-Y drag on for a second.
“Mayweather, right?” I pronounced it correctly of course.
“Yes.”
And there, out of what had seemed like to shady scenario, I made a friend. I proceeded to talk about how we left the U.S. for nine-months to travel the world between high school and college. He brought up the fact that I was tall, asked if I played basketball, and then moved on to the NBA, and we discussed the topic of how tall American basketball players are. Mayweather also introduced me to his friend, Monica (again, a name I have given to this man, it is pronounced mo-ni-gah). Monica was wrapped in a blanket, and held a metal rod that looked similar to what the shepards of this area carry with them.
We reached the end of the trail, and Mayweather pointed out the sign, which read:
NO TRESPASSING.
TRESPASSERS WILL BE
PROSECUTED
The white lettering stood out boldly against the cherry-red background. Even I marveled at how we had missed that upon entering. I don’t believe Mayweather was convinced that we had just missed the sign, but I shook hands with him and Monica, he said “Mr. Casey,” in that way he does, and we went our separate ways.
After this we ate our snacks, and followed the road for miles and miles down to a somewhat nearby town. Hunter, who I mentioned in a previous blog, lost his drone whilst attempting to get a beautiful mountain view along the way, and we searched for it. We searched and searched to no avail. Then we continued to follow the road into town, where we heard the was a quaint fish- &-chips spot. Upon reaching the town, we discovered that there was a nearby lodge with a restaurant, and thought maybe this was the place. But after conversing with some locals, we soon found out that the lodge had been closed for a quite some time. Tired and somewhat discouraged, we sat at the nearest stop for public transportation. We ate some more, and played some music. Some of the team began flinging little hardened animal droppings at each other, and hilarity ensued. Across the road and down a hill from where we sat on the ground, a group of kids were running around, and seemed to be having a good time. Naturally, I had to join the fun. So I ran down, and showed off some dance moves, which put smiles on their faces. I went back up, but came down again later, gave them all high fives, and met some adults who were looking after them. It was an unbelievably refreshing experience.
At some point, our team was playing Christmas music, and we all rested in the peaceful sounds of the holidays. Eventually, we called Peter and had him pick us up. I got two very delicious lollipops at a small shop in town, and we headed back to Roma. On the drive back, we told Peter of our adventures, and he pointed out that the place we had come across was, in fact, a military training facility.
When we arrived home, everyone was pretty beat, and we just hung out. Hunter took a nice five- hour nap, and I went to bed for the night at 6:00 PM.
All in all, it was an unpredictably thrilling adventure. God blessed us by keeping us safe throughout our travels.
Thanks for reading, and God bless.
Trouble by Ray LaMontagne
