Crossfire

I wasn’t entirely sure that I was going to write about this, but I’ve decided that it will probably be cathartic. I apologize now if the outcome of this post is too emotional for others (Mom, Caleb) reading it.

On Thurs morning, I headed to Malealea with Mary, Lisebo and Teboho for our staff retreat. The others went to pick up Senate, thus taking the back road to Malealea. We, however, were in town, so we took the main road (Kingsway) through Lekhaloneng, Lithabaneng, past the airport and to Malealea. It was around 8:30 a.m. when we got to the traffic circle in Lekhaloneng, and there were hoards of people just walking, walking, walking.

So, there have been some transportation issues in Lesotho lately. The government purchased some buses to try and institute a govt sourced public transportation system. Currently, public transit, as I think I’ve written about, is in the form of privately owned mini-buses, called taxis or “combis”. They have routes, and they just pick people up on the side of the road, generally in defined areas, but sometimes just randomly. These privately owned taxis are a major source of livelihood in Lesotho, particularly since the unemployment rate here is so high. Well, the govt purchasd these new “Camel” buses, had a grandiose ceremony to introduce them to the country, and just put them in rotation in Maseru. Many people think the govt was bribed by the bus companies, and that’s why the buses have been instituted. The buses are cheaper and thus undercut the taxis. So the taxi owner are really upset because they are going to lose business, there was no democratic decision to introduce the system, and as it was said to me “it’s time for an overthrow of the government”.

On Monday last week, there was a “stay-away” (strike) by the taxis as they awaited an answer from the government on the demands they made to have the buses either removed totally, or moved out to the districts where they are needed. No answer came.

On Thursday, very early morning, a Camel bus driver decided to take the transportation war into his own hands, and shot a taxi driver dead.

This is when the chaos began, and where I got involved. So, we see all these people walking, walking, walking. And it’s because the taxis decided to strike in response to the shooting. The traffic was crawling, actually, and as we were stopped at the traffic lights (“robots” as they call them here) in Lekhaloneng, I pointed to the right. “Look at all of those people.” It was a massive crowd just standing on the side of the road. Teboho said, “Does anyone have a camera? I’ve never seen this many people in one place in Lesotho.” I was thinking the same thing, so I started to rummage through my bag, looking for my camera. That’s when I heard the first thud.

Everything got very quiet. And then I heard another thud. Thud, thud, thud. I looked up. I saw the “Camel” bus in the coming traffic lane. It wasn’t moving. No one was moving. The traffic was at a dead stop. Thud, thud, thud. People on the street were throwing rocks at the bus. “Go, go, reverse, reverse, reverse,” Lisebo panicked at Teboho. The rocks kept coming. My heart started to pick up pace, but it was not until I looked out my window and saw the policeman standing not five feet from our vehicle that I felt my heart drop into my stomach.

The cop had lifted his semi-automatic gun in the direction of the people throwing rocks. And then I heard the shots. It was rapid fire. It was pointed directly at our vehicle. We were stuck in between the cop and the people throwing rocks. Lisebo, Mary and I hit the floor of the car. The shots kept coming. People were firing back at the police. The car in front of us had it’s back windshield shot out. “No, no, no!” Lisebo kept saying. “My baby.” I just hugged the floor.

And it happened to me. In those five, ten, fifteen minutes that we sat in the crossfire (or was it just ten seconds?), I thought that my life had come to its final moments. I thought about being 29, and was I satisfied that I had done everything I had ever wanted. Was I satisfied with how my life had turned out? Did I accomplish enough? Did I tell everyone everything I ever wanted to tell them? Did I have any regrets? It’s not that I was exactly conscious of these thoughts at the time, as I looked at the grey carpet on the floor and listened to the rapid fire. But those thoughts were there.

I was terrified, like I don’t think I have ever been before. I don’t know what I would have done if I had been driving. Teboho stayed calm, he steered us out of there, past the bus. We arrived at Malealea, our cell phones had no reception and the rest of our work team, who were supposed to arrive Thurs evening, stayed in Maseru. More shootings happened later in the day. The residents of Maseru stayed at home. Apparently, Maseru was a ghost town on Friday. No more incidents, no anything. Just quiet.

I thought I was fine after it happened, as we were driving to Malealea. But when we arrived, and we told the other car what had happened, it hit me hard. I couldn’t really focus all day. I randomly started to cry when I thought about sitting there between gunshots. I couldn’t eat. And the thing is, the local staff who were in the car with me, they were upset, but not nearly to the extent that I was…am. They’ve lived through this before. They’ve had guns pointed in their directions before. Their lives haven't been as “sheltered” as mine. They could laugh on Thurs about things related to the incident, whereas I was nauseous when it came up. And I thought, “Do I ever want to be at a place where I can joke about almost begin shot?” I don’t know.
Monday there is another stay-away by the taxis. There are thoughts that it could last the whole week. That maybe these incidents will escalate into serious civil unrest. That maybe govt buildings will be burned, that more shootings will happen, that chaos and govt overthrow is the finale to these incidents. Everyone says we’ll know better after we see what happens on Monday.

I’m okay now. I’m writing this from Malealea, far from Maseru. I wonder if I’ll feel differently when we arrive back there.

This is truly real life.