Winter in Lesotho

As my shoulders are sunburned and the air conditioning runs in my house this July in California, it’s hard to remember that it’s winter in Lesotho. Yet when I do remember, I recall scenes like the one above, which I photographed exactly ten winters ago: cold, gray, slow-moving storms over dead brown mountains — completely different from the fast-moving lightning storms of summer.

In winter, I recall wearing my blanket in the morning as I stepped outside to pee. The concrete floor in my house felt even colder than the air in the mornings.

Between classes, I sat with the other teachers outside the staff room, but close to the north-facing wall in order to magnify through reflection the little power the sun had. Students in classrooms wore beanies and gloves.

Qacha's Nek district
Qacha’s Nek district

And then if it snowed — I’ve never been in a quieter place than Lesotho during a snow.

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