How do we define “Mosotho”?
I struggle to define my identity as a Mosotho, beyond the simple geographical label of being from Lesotho. This internal conflict stems from the realization that identity encompasses more than just a place of origin; it's about understanding the historical, cultural, and social dimensions that shape who we are. The term “Mosotho” carries with it layers of meaning and complexity, with various arguments surrounding its origin and evolution over time. While there may be disagreements on its etymology, we can find common ground by examining the shared experiences and values that unite us as Basotho. Through this exploration, I hope to shed light on some of the enduring questions surrounding Basotho identity and offer insights into our collective journey of self-discovery.
Among the myriad interpretations surrounding the etymology of the term “Mosotho,” three prevailing arguments vie for recognition. The first traces its roots to the Swazi people, who purportedly labeled inhabitants of the area now known as Lesotho as “abashunto,” a term derived from the verb “uku shunta,” meaning “to make a knot.” This designation allegedly stemmed from a mockery of the locals' practice of tying their loincloths at the back, eventually evolving into the term “Basotho.” Similarly, the second argument posits that the term emerged from “lesoto,” denoting a short loin garment utilized by men for modesty. Advocates of this theory suggest that altering “lesoto” to “mosoto” was necessary to signify human beings, with the prefix “Mo-“ designating such. Lastly, proponents of the third argument contend that “Mosotho” originates from “sootho,” meaning brown, thus rendering “ba sootho”/ “Basotho” as "the dark-skinned ones." This interpretation aligns with the complexion of the Basotho people, emphasizing their melanin-rich heritage.
While the origins of the term “Mosotho” remain shrouded in uncertainty, the arguments surrounding its etymology provide a semblance of clarity, delineating the boundaries within which we may navigate our understanding. It is evident that the term may not have been familiar to our indigenous lineage predating the 19th century, suggesting a relatively recent emergence in our lexicon. This realization engenders a profound sense of identity crisis, prompting introspection into the validity of anchoring our sense of self in ancestral roots. The analogy of labeling a table as a tree despite its origin as a product thereof encapsulates this dilemma eloquently. In simple terms, we cannot say a table is a tree even though the table is the product of a tree. Can we rightfully invoke the identities of our forebears as a means of defining our own? This question lies at the crux of my inquiry, challenging conventional notions of identity and beckoning us to explore the complexities inherent in our collective heritage.
In the crucible of the 19th century, Moshoeshoe I embarked on a remarkable endeavor to unite disparate clans within the territory now recognized as Lesotho and the Free State, transcending ethnic boundaries, and fostering a heterogeneous society. This bold vision welcomed individuals from diverse origins, laying the foundation of Lesotho on a mosaic of cultures. While commonalities existed among these clans, their ethnicities varied, with the majority conversing in what we now refer to as "Sotho." The term "Sotho" encompasses linguistic variations such as Sepedi, Setswana, and Sesotho, a designation I employ to encompass the languages prevalent before the 19th century for clarity's sake. Despite this linguistic diversity, Moshoeshoe I extended his hospitality even to Europeans, ushering them into this heterogeneous society and intertwining their cultures with those of the indigenous populace. This convergence raises a pivotal question: how do we delineate the identity of a “Mosotho”? Is it by tracing linguistic continuity to ancestors predating the 19th century, or by recognizing the ethos of heterogeneity upon which Lesotho was founded, incorporating Southern Nguni, Sotho, European, and myriad other cultural influences?
This introspection leads us to confront the intriguing phenomenon of double standards prevalent within the borders of Lesotho. Many Basotho adamantly proclaim, “English is not our mother tongue,” yet readily embrace other facets of English influence as integral to our cultural heritage. It is not uncommon to witness individuals donning overalls, gumboots, lishoeshoe, seanamarena, and other attire of European origin on traditional occasions such as Moshoeshoe's day. However, upon closer examination, we uncover the paradoxical origins of these cultural artifacts, each a product of European influence. This begs the question: why do we disavow English as part of our linguistic identity while simultaneously embracing aspects of our culture that trace their roots to European introduction? This apparent contradiction prompts a deeper interrogation of our attitudes towards language, tradition, and identity, challenging us to confront the complexities and nuances inherent in the interplay between heritage and historical influence. There are many things that Basotho refer to as “bosotho”, a common belief is that maize and peaches are part of us as Basotho, so making them “bosotho” but when we look at the genealogy of those two, we realize that they were introduced by the missionaries. To say the least, our ancestors never knew of those even though we treat papa as part of “bosotho”.
This whole issue is akin to the unsettling realization that much of the indoctrination I underwent as a child is founded upon facades. What exacerbates this realization is witnessing individuals argue from the perspective of a contemporary “Mosotho.” There is undoubtedly more depth to this discourse, yet for now, I pose a fundamental question: How do we define “Mosotho”? For myself, I find it increasingly difficult to provide a definitive answer. Lastly, does the term “Mosotho” also include Europeans or any other ethnic group that does not originate from the language we call “Sesotho” per se, or is it only limited to indigenous lineage? Even though people predating the 19th century have never used the term and would probably not understand most of the “Sesotho” which we speak?