Its late in the afternoon, the smell of smoke fills the air, in my hand is a piece of raw organ meat, and I look at Korby and say, “I think I have my next story.”

Rewind. Its late morning and I step outside our rondavel and I notice that there is a group of people in the field. It seems they are beating something. We decide to go and find that the men have sticks in their hands and they are rhythmically chanting and beating a pile of sorghum. Then they stop and rest. The women sweep up the seeds and pour it from bowls, allowing the wind to sift the wheat from the chaff. While the women do this, the men eat a mixture of corn and beans and drink porridge and beer made from the sorghum.  Then they stand up, pick up their clubs and begin again. It only made sense to grab a club and join in. We start beating and getting the timing of the swings, which correspond with the chanting. We go for a while and then that round is complete. After that round we had to leave, but you could tell they were very pleased that we joined in.

We were on our way back from getting water when a man approaches us and asks if we want to come watch them slaughter a cow. Well of course. We go and watch them kill it by stabbing a spear into its heart. We later learn this is a distinct way of killing the cow. Then they begin dressing the cow, taking the big pieces aside for later and eating the smaller pieces. They build a fire in the pen, also called a kraal or lesakeng. They cut the meat, covered in blood, throw it on the fire with a little spice and cook it. Then they take the meat off, hands still covered in blood, and hand it to us. It’s too tough to bite off so we have to cut it. To help with this they bring us a plate. Our plate consists of a rock taken from the wall of the kraal. I notice that the kraal is made with stones and dung. The meat is surprisingly good. Then comes the second course, mystery organ meat. They bring it and put it on our table. I cut off a piece, put it in my mouth, and in the words of Korby, it explodes with liquid. I look at my hands and knife, and they are covered in blood, tasty.

It turns out this was a three day event to celebrate the passing of a grandmother. That is why the cow was killed the way it was. Still not clear why it has to be in the heart. We did learn that they believe that a cow must be killed so that the grandmother will have a guide in the next life. However, we did not learn this until the third day. On the second day, we had dinner with about 100 people from the village. On the third day, we were treated to a special meal of cow innards and cow heart. It was then we found someone with enough English to explain what was happening. I am not recommending going to such an event, but afterwards the attitude of the people towards us changed dramatically.

That is the reason I tell this story. Not so much to gross you out, but to tell you of the watershed event of our first month. After this event, our last two weeks were like night and day compared to our first two weeks. When we arrived in Matsaile we found the culture of the Basotho to not be very warm. The first two weeks were spent with limited interaction with people.  The two weeks after the event, people were calling to us just to say hello, starting and carrying on conversations with us, and even calling us by Basotho names that we were given. Mine is Thabiso, which means “one that brings joy”. Korby’s is Tsepo, which means “hope”.  And it all started with us going to the field and beating sorghum.

We know it was ancestral worship, which is not what we are to partake in. But it seems God is even using that to open hearts and minds to His message and to us. Pretty interesting.

Other highlights of the month:

• We were sought out to start a Bible study and have done so with a guy name Thabo and a few others. He seems really interested in studying the Word, so please be in prayer for him.
• We have made a friend who speaks English and have been sharing with Him about the Bible and Christian faith. He seems to be a believer, so it is a bit of a confusing situation. His name is Thabong. He reads his Bible, but doesn’t show much interest in doing a Bible study with us. This may be due to community pressure that he has mentioned.
• We also went on some pretty awesome hikes on the edge of cliffs. Thought I might die a couple of times, only made it that much more fun.

Prayer Requests:

• There is a church of sorts that meets in the village. We have attended it while there. We are trying to figure out how best to work with them.
• For Thabo and Thabong
• To find a language helper that is there year round
• For even just a couple of people to be truly seeking after God
• For continued motivation and ability to learn language
• Reliance on God and not on ourselves for anything