A Loop around Southern Africa – Day 5: A Basotho explanation of why hyraxes don’t have tails

Having booked rooms at the Thaba Bosiu Cultural Village, we began the day by driving just a little way up the road to the Thaba Bosiu Visitor Centre. The Visitor Centre was where we were told we could begin our guided hike up Thaba Bosiu, a plateau that served as Lesotho’s first seat of power in the nineteenth century when King Moshoeshoe I established his royal village there. After uniting several clans, King Moshoeshoe repelled invaders and raiders from Thaba Bosiu, whose name translates to “The Mountain of the Night.” The name allegedly refers to the idea that Thaba Bosiu was protected at night by a magical rope that the Basotho women wove and buried at the trailhead on Moshoeshoe’s command. When invaders crossed the rope, they fell asleep, and after waking up, they could only walk a few steps before falling asleep again. The invaders, in turn, thought that the name Thaba Bosiu referred to the mountain growing at night, as they could never reach the top.

This was one of the many stories, histories and aetiologies our guide told us while we walked up the mountain. Moshoeshoe, he said, gave himself his name after defeating an enemy and shaving him, making the sound “sho-eh, sho-eh.” He was the archetypal good king. When cannibals ate his grandfather, he forbade his people from harming them and instead chose to win them over to his cause. He reasoned that the graves of one’s ancestors ought to be respected, and since the bodies of the cannibals had become their graves, it was imperative that they not be fought. Another thing our guide told us about Moshoeshoe I was that he had four wives but also nominally married all the widows of his kingdom to ensure their protection and support.

Our guide’s stories were not confined to the history of Lesotho. As we made our way up the surprisingly well-paved and well-maintained path, we spotted a hyrax, which prompted the guide to tell us another interesting tale: when God created the animals, none of them had tails. God wanted the animals to choose their own tails, so he asked them all to come over and pick whichever tail they liked best. The hyrax, however, was a lazy creature. He asked the other animals to bring him back a tail, but of course God only gave out as many tails as there were animals. This is why the hyrax has no tail and why he constantly watches the roads: he is waiting for one of the other animals to come bring him a tail.

When we reached the top of the plateau, the guide asked each of us to pick up a stone and put it in a big stone tub. He explained that this was where visitors to the royal village were asked to lay aside their weapons. We continued past the rock promontory, which allegedly served as the king’s throne and lookout, to a rock engraved with a name and a date: Our guide told us this was the name of an Irishman who came to Lesotho to teach the people to build their houses out of stone instead of mud. He helped Moshoeshoe build his own house, which was rectangular and made of stone, but after the Basotho mastered the technique, they continued building their houses in a circular shape. Both the rectangular house of the king and the round house belonging to one of his four principal wives remain on top of the plateau.

King Moshoeshoe, our guide told us, was a big believer in the importance of unity. He welcomed everyone to his abode and never asked what they wanted until after they had rested a night. When different Christian missionaries came to his land, he asked them to agree with each other on a single version of Christianity they wanted his people to follow, but they could not do it, so he sent them away. Many other clan leaders also sought Thaba Bosiu with mixed results. One cleader committed suicide by jumping off the cliff after being embarrassed by Moshoeshoe, who asked all the clan leaders to try milking a cow – this leader had no idea how.

We made a loop at the top of the plateau, walking all the way to the other side with its spectacular views of Qiloane Hill and the surrounding cliffs. Qiloane Hill is especially famous for being shaped like a Mokorotlo, a conical straw hat that appears on the country’s flag, license plates, and some of its banknotes. The far side of the cliff is also home to a little spring and a dune with very fine sand. We walked the trail around these all the way to the royal cemetery, where all but one of the nation’s kings are buried.

We had initially planned to make it back to the Cultural Village for the eleven o’clock cultural performance, but we realised we would not be able to make it well before we heard the beating of drums from the top of the plateau. Despite the receptionist’s assurances that the guided tours took a maximum of two hours, we returned at twelve after a three-hour hike. Still, we were happy we had taken the tour: the views and the stories had been spectacular, and we were still able to enter the museum at the Cultural Village where we learned a little about the country’s history and traditions before we left Lesotho.

Since it was already past twelve and we needed to fill up on gas, we had to make our way into Maseru. We found not only gas but also a giant gift shop shaped like a Mokorotlo, and Tiana and I bought some provisions at a nearby supermarket while Brent and Joel stayed with the car. They discovered that a local man had taken it upon himself to wash the car as we were out buying souvenirs and was asking for a tip, but we were left with nothing but a twenty Loti note, which we gave him along with a sandwich and some water. It was only at the border that Tiana noticed she still had a fifty Rand note in her pocket.

We were heartbroken to have to leave Lesotho after spending only two days in the country. The peach-filled valleys had made a deep impression on us, as did Lesotho’s vibrant hat culture: the number of different hats we saw in the mountains as well as the streets of Maseru was astounding. There were caps and sombreros, Mokorotlos and broad-brimmed hats, hats with fascinators and bobble hats, and much more.

It was another three-and-a-half-hour drive from the border to our hotel in the Drakensberg Mountains. At first, the drive was not at all exciting: we sped through the plains dreaming of the peach-filled valleys of Lesotho. Slowly, however, more mountains emerged, and we soon found ourselves riding down the winding roads of the Golden Gate Highlands National Park with its beautiful red rocks and sandstone overhangs. There were a few animals grazing in the distance – some springboks and zebras – and we happened upon a troop of baboons near one of the information centres. We made it to Witsishoek a little after sunset.