Taxi rides permeate life in Lesotho. You walk, maybe you ride a horse or a donkey, and you squish into taxis — that’s how you get around. Here’s one of the Kolo taxis that I took every time I commuted from my village to the capital.
Yet I didn’t find a place in the narrative of The Mountain School to give taxis their proportional due. I only detailed one very uncomfortable ride. Fortunately, the literary journal “Canopic Jar” has just published its latest crop of prose and poetry from writers across the globe and in it you’ll find a piece by me about a more ordinary taxi ride, though everybody who knows knows that there are no ordinary taxi rides in Lesotho.
This issue also includes excellent poetry by the Mosotho poet Rethabile Masilo, as well as Tim Pfau. Canopic Jar 27 here.
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