From a land of promise to corrupt and neglected — an ode to a long-gone Lesotho

There’s nothing wrong with a coup d’état lasting 54 years. But there’s everything wrong with us doing nothing to turn around our misfortune, and instead exploiting it for some and using it to oppress others.

I remember when Lesotho’s literacy rate was among the highest, and internationally acclaimed writers from our country, like Thomas Mofolo and ZD Mangoaela, were celebrated.

I remember when botho (internationally known as ubuntu) was not just a philosophy in books but something we practised. I remember when, at nightfall, you could knock on any door, and you’d be welcomed, fed and given a place to sleep.

I remember when, as a child, we’d leave home on Saturday morning, come back in the evening, and our parents wouldn’t be frantic with worry or calling the police.

I remember when Maseru was clean and full of promise.

I remember so many things.

Failed to create jobs

I remember when there were only four or five political parties, not the 60-plus we have today. This reflects how our government has failed to create jobs beyond its own needs, as that old song, sung during our decline leading up to the 1970 coup, went: “Leabua ke ‘Muso, ngoana’ka. (Leabua is the state, my child.)” But instead, there went Lesotho. Everything revolved around the prime minister, the top honcho, regardless of their effectiveness, efficiency or political skill. The headman – always a man, by the way – was idolised, often at the expense of the country, which those receiving benefits hardly cared about. The adoration was almost religious. Roads to the leader’s birthplace were always tarred.

Don’t get me wrong; the opposition was no better, mocking the ruling party’s members more for their education, status or looks than for their policies.

I remember when we weren’t among the murder capitals of the world, when Maseru was clean, traffic flowed smoothly, and cars and pedestrians didn’t jostle for space. There was a proper market with stands, and we would walk from one to the next, buying what we needed. Today, sellers occupy the pavements.

I also remember, because I experienced it, that another adult could discipline a child without fear of being sued or shot.

When I was about seven, living in Motse-Mocha (now called “Stadium Area” near Maseru’s main stadium), a neighbour’s son and I stole a few rand from his mom’s handbag. We had a whale of a time on a street lined with shops and restaurants, nicknamed Eloff Street, eating makoenya (fat cakes) and Zoom ice cream, and opening lucky packets. It was a day to remember until his mom discovered our crime. She whipped us both. I ran home screaming, and when my mom found out why, she belted me again. I remember those days fondly because they’re gone, and our country sorely needs them now.

I remember getting separated from my parents on the Maseru mountain near the main traffic circle. I must have been seven or eight. A blanketed man scooped me up, smiled at his wife and said something like, “I’d like to take him to (name of his village), feed him motoho (a porridge drink), and raise him.” I panicked a little, but he asked my name and walked around until he found my mom.  

I remember that there was little fear of friend or foe in Lesotho until 1970 changed everything.

‘Designed to suppress free speech’

Herbert Moyo, writing in the Daily Maverick on 15 September 2024, states: “No amount of sugar-coating can disguise the fact that the Lesotho Computer Crimes and Cyber Security Bill is designed to suppress free speech and shield those in power from public scrutiny. This is not about cybersecurity – it’s about democracy.”

He further points out that punishing journalists with up to 17 years in prison or hefty fines for handling classified information is clearly aimed at stifling accountability and silencing dissent.  

Then there’s Botswana, which Wikipedia refers to in the following terms: “Botswana has an above-average human rights record, and it is recognised by human rights groups as one of the strongest democracies in Africa. Economic policy in Botswana revolves around the nation’s lucrative diamond industry, which makes up a significant portion of the economy. The country has been praised as an economic success as it pursued free market policies in the 20th century.”

In Lesotho, according to Afrobarometer, “the share of citizens who paid bribes to obtain a government identity document, avoid problems with the police and get police assistance has increased since 2017”. I live in France and every time I visit home I pay bribes. The last time we were asked to pay a bribe was in May. We said no. No one can say with certitude whether it’ll ever end.

Violence against women? “Over 86% of women in Lesotho have experienced some form of violence in their lifetime, and 40% of men admitted to having perpetrated violence against women,” according to the Millennium Challenge Corporation.

That’s an alarming number of women being violated. And if 40% of men admit it, we can be sure the real numbers are even higher. As my column from 19 December 2023 shows, empowering women leads to a successful society.

One of the reasons Lesotho is struggling is because of how women are treated in the country. Every action has a consequence; it is up to us to choose our actions wisely.

Reform the toothless judicial system

Lastly, we must reform our toothless judicial system so that wrongdoers are punished to the full extent of the law.

In short, our country’s challenges stem from years of political stagnation, corruption and negligence. Once a nation of high learning, strong community values and safe streets, it now faces rampant corruption, a dazed political landscape and alarming levels of violence, especially against women.

The idolisation of ineffective leaders and a dysfunctional judicial system have left the country struggling.

While nations like Botswana thrive through good governance and respect for human rights, Lesotho continues to grapple with bribes, systemic failures, electricity blackouts and water shortages.

It is time for a national reckoning – one that addresses corruption, values accountability and treats every citizen, especially women, with the esteem and dignity they deserve. 

Rethabile Masilo is a Mosotho poet from Lesotho who lives in Paris, France.

Almost Midnight

By Deborah A Miranda

Wife and dogs have gone to bed.

I sit here with the front door open.

Crickets sing patiently, a long lullaby

in lazy harmony. Rain falls

on our tin roof; sharp taps of reality,

start and stop. I breathe myself back

into my body. Come back, self. You’ve

been out fighting demons and bullies

and liars. You’ve been talking

to an electronic box with no ears.

You’ve been cheering for a democracy

that doesn’t exist. We’re all walking on bones.

Some of us are walking on more bones

than others. Breathe. Back into the body,

little one. The human world is broken,

but so beautifully. Corruption of the soul

never shows scars; when you don’t resist,

no wounds exist. Breathe, breathe it back.

In this world, we live in bodies of flesh.

In this world our souls tether themselves

with blood. This is a good thing. Otherwise

we might take wing into darkness,

never touch our Mother, twist language

into silvery shapes. Breathe now. Let

the crickets tell you their truth.

Let it be yours, for now.

(From Split This Rock)

The question of Mokema

By Rethabile Masilo

Wild eggs of the ostrich lie about like skulls.

At night, when no one is looking, and Lesotho

pauses to yawn… rub its eyes with its fists,

the killer and his men put down their guns

to plan a new slaying. At the thought, hawks

flock out of trees and head to the kopjes

for safety. The only other cry is the groan

of water, above the one an old owl makes

with its questions: ‘who… who… who?’

But there’s no reply from inside the faces

of these men, though new fear grips our land.

How we shall miss you, our country. Leisure

is dead in your eyes. Nobody laughs anymore. DM

This story first appeared in our weekly Daily Maverick 168 newspaper, which is available countrywide for R35.