The circus in Adaba

15 November 2012

After a week of mostly meetings and proposal writing I was looking forward to an environmental club meeting at the high school. I wrote a lesson plan and collected tree leaves around town so we could do some rubbings and identification. I called my colleagues at the school to confirm the time. But what I didn’t prepare for was that a one man circus act would triumph the spotlight and leave me as a dumbfounded spectator.

I had actually met this gentleman at the primary school the day before. He is the new P.E. teacher and introduced me, not with his name, but by telling me that he was from Addis Ababa. All I saw was that his v-neck t-shirt was more revealing than anything I would dare to wear here and I turned my attention elsewhere. So yes I was surprised that the circus had not come to town, but it lived here, and was employed by one of the schools I work with. Needless to say, my eagerness surpassed that which I felt during hand washing day.

Hundreds of students each paid 2 Birr and formed a large circle in the school’s open lawn. The show went on for about 90 minutes, there was a decent amount of crowd participation, his dramatic acting portrayed him as a nutball whose legs had a mind of their own. He was a contortionist, forming his body into different numbers 2 thru 8 and impressing us with his flexibility and strength. What was most shocking was not that he could rest his legs behind his neck or jump through his arms, but what he made his crowd participants do with him.

I’ve never seen a professional contortionist and there are plenty of dirty jokes that go along with them, but this guys act was pretty lewd and perverse without much imagination. I’m not sure that I was laughing at the same things as the audience but watching it made me blush. Afterwards one of the teachers asked me what I thought and his comment was that the entertainment was fun for the students, but is culturally very foreign and thereby threatening. Again, I don’t know if we were seeing the same things during the performance, but I understood his perspective.

“Well what about television? Most of the students see things outside of their culture on television don’t they?” I asked.

“True, but you know we didn’t have television or cell phones before four years ago, so even that is a new phenomenon.” He responded.

----my mind was blown-----

In 4 years, my sweet rural town of Adaba has gone from relative solitude to phallacio-filled circus acts and WWF wrestling trash. With all this classy entertainment I hope my environment students can appreciate some old fashion nature walks with me.

With and without quotations

24 October 2012

Until Haile Selassie was removed from power in 1974 Ethiopia had the longest running Imperial regime in Africa. Centuries of kings and queens created a culture of haves and have nots. The final regime was overthrown by a military communist party known as the Derg, led by Mengistu. The Derg wanted to even out the score between the social classes and emphasized land and education reforms. In doing so they also committed heinous violence acts to oppress culture and ideological liberty. I have met people whose family members were killed during the Derge, and political prisoners who continue to suffer from the torture of their imprisonment. One man I know was incarcerated for 12 years had each of his teeth pulled, one by one.

The current party, ERDPF, overthrew the Derge in 1991 and is the first ‘democratic’ government in Ethiopia, one of the oldest nations in the world with one of the youngest democracies! Aside from brief periods around election times no other political parties are active. During the last election the existing ERDPF Prime Minister declared his victory with “99% of the votes.” Seems too good to be true? I think so too. People’s jobs are kept or cut depending on their support of the current party. There is no neutrality either; being so is equivalent to opposition.

Ethiopians love current events. They watch the news daily, and enjoy intellectual conversations about foreign affairs, but they will not engage in a dialogue about their own country’s politics. International politics are interesting because things change, people protest, there are power transitions. Ethiopian policies affect all citizens deeply, the decisions made only by a handful of people. Often it seems, the change is slow and people are prepared for more struggle.

I know more Ethiopians than not who haven’t exercised their right to vote, who do not feel that their voice will persuade politicians. People who pretend they don’t care or are satisfied by those who represent them because saying otherwise is too risky. And yes, to remind you again, this is a “democratic nation.”

Our democracy in the U.S. is not perfect, but can continue to strive for improvements through the voice of its citizens. People can complain, protest and petition and the diversity of opinions helps us continuously shape and adjust things. Voting matters and change is constant. Life in the United States is revered as some of the most envious in the world, and I give much credit to our system of governance: Democracy without quotations.

As we approach presidential elections in November. Please remember that freedom of speech is a liberty millions of people in the world live without. Voting is a means to exercise this liberty and it should not be overlooked. Regardless of your position or your party please VOTE!

A new approach to body modifications

17 October 2012


was just another relaxing morning, oatmeal and fresh coffee and milk for breakfast when I received an exciting phone call: “B, you must come to the high school. We are washing our hands! Come now!!” before I could resolve my confusion Thomas hung up.

It takes me nearly 20 minutes to walk to the high school and I thought by the time I clean up, get dressed and walk across town the hand washing would likely be over and done with. I considered not going, but then again it had to be something worthwhile if I received a phone call and personal invitation. So I went.

Apparently October 15 is “International Hand Washing Day.” A few Non-governmental organizations were holding an event at the high school to teach the students about the importance of using soap while washing our hands. Ideally, the students would be persuaded and share the information with their parents and neighbors. The celebration included a trivia game where students would answer “true” or “false,” a comedy skit, and a hand washing competition. I repeat, a hand washing competition.

No I am not making this up.

In the VIP guest area I sat absolutely stunned by the reality of it all. Here I am 1 year into my volunteer service thinking worthwhile conversations consist of the following phrases:

 “Deforestation is a serious problem in Ethiopia”
“If you plant more than one crop you will have more financial stability”
“Gender equality is important”
“If you remove the debris and wax from your honey you will get a better profit”

When in reality, a simple message regarding how anti-bacterial soap will reduce the risk of contracting amoebas, giardia, typhus, and dysentery is not that simple at all. These are all very common illnesses throughout Ethiopia. This is not widely accepted or understood information.  Again, I am blown away by the amount of things I take for granted.

One of the high school biology teachers explained to me that even with his profession and educational background some of his family members do not easily accept his advice regarding good hygiene and sanitation. He blamed culture for making people stubborn and unwilling to accept new information. He provided me with another example of bad culture, a subject I often want to discuss but am afraid to bring up: female genital mutilation (FGM).

Unfortunately this has occurred in Ethiopia for many generations though it was recently made illegal and denounced by the government. Now slowly people are changing and it is not as common. He told me that 2 of the 3 women in his family (immediate or extended I do not know) have been cut. The last girl was spared because it is now understood that this practice is bad. So I asked why a country full of religious zealots could believe that God or Allah would make females imperfect. Well, apparently if women aren’t circumcised their excessive sexual energy will increase the likelihood that they may speak up against their husbands, throw dishes around the home, not be subservient or remain monogamous. I imagine that American movies only confirm these misconceptions.

Feeling more perplexed then I was during the hand washing competition I asked “Has anyone considered the consequences of men’s excessive sexual energy?” That it might explain the bad cultural practices of having more children than you can afford, polygamy, kidnapping girls in order to marry them against their will or marrying and impregnating girls that are 18 years and younger….

“No, of course no one thinks about these things” was his response.

On a positive note, I may have been on national television for demonstrating my awesome soap lathering skills. Just another day in the life…

Fardaa Ferenj

2 October 2012

My friend Bayu is a man of many professions: tour guide, environmental activist and fish farmer; today he added to the list with “hydropower installation consultant.” With this new task he invited me to go with him and his friend Sultan to Bucha, a small village south of our town. I said yes, mostly because his invitation included the words “we will go by horse.”

For a brief while I took weekly horseback riding lessons when I was in middle school. I mostly remember cleaning the hooves and brushing the horse. All of that preparation seemed to take longer than the time I spent actually riding the horse. Well in Ethiopia, it’s the other way around. The saddle blanket is often a goat skin (fur side up) and the saddle is wooden. Once that is set up you just jump on top and go!

There have been a few times in Ethiopia when, being the token ferenj, I’ve been called on to mount a horse. These old men have just wanted a good laugh to brighten the afternoon, and I’m obliged to do it because I love every opportunity to ensure them I’m not incapable or intimidated. Today no one laughed or stared, they just assumed that I knew what to do, so I played the part, or tried to.

 “B, move the rope like this to get it to turn,” Bayu as I sat on top of my saddle, flailing my legs confused about the next step.

 “B, we must move quickly or else the rain will catch us,” Bayu moving his horse behind mine to encourage it to speed up.

“B, are you okay?” Bayu staring back at me from ¼ km. ahead.


 “Welcome back B, I’m happy you will join us now.” Bayu, after I caught up after being slow the entire trip.

I spent the day sweet talking my horse, rubbing my hands against her strong shoulders as her brown velvet coat warmed in the sun. I called her “momma” because her son was with us, and she had a 3 month old baby at home. Not wanting to whip the horse, we rode along slowly, she found her own route most of the way and I enjoyed the scenery. Instead, I dubiously admired the leather whip, which I was told had been made of hippopotamus skin.






Once at our destination, Sultan’s house, Bayu quickly determined there was not enough of a slope for a hydropower project to be effective. So they discussed this further, and I wandered finding orchids in the trees, colts galloping across vivid pastures and wondering if PC will allow me to buy a horse and move myself to the country. We visited Sultan’s garden where I gave a brief apple tree pruning 101 training and the ole’ “did you know you can eat beet greens and they will help your children grow tall and strong” lecture. We hung out there for less than 10 minutes, but afterwards it was enough for me to consider it a productive work day. Inside Sultan’s gojobet (traditional home) we talked about how he can make solar lights from water bottles and that cooking smoke related illnesses are the #2 cause of deaths in Africa, mostly among women and children. Now I was really feeling like an engaged PC volunteer!!

We ate “gunfoe” for lunch, it’s something like bread dough that hasn’t baked, with a large depression in the middle that is filled with butter, rancid butter that is. It was served in a tall, round piece of wood that a bowl was carved out in. One of the spoons we used was carved out of an ox horn and we were given sour yogurt to drink. There was a lot of arguing over who wasn’t eating enough and that they should eat more.. NOW! This lunch exemplified Ethiopian culture at its best.

Sultan's gojo bet

We rode back after lunch, the sun was hotter, my horse was faster, my comfort increasing and it wasn’t too long before we were back in Adaba. What a great journey to break up the week. Lessons learned: I should find more reasons to get into the country and ride horses.

The grazing fields of Bucha. These kids live to far from a school
to go and their parents prefer they help with the livestock.

Dichotomy lobotomy

24 September 2012

After 24 years in one culture it’s difficult to make sense of another, especially one that seems so backward and illogical at times. True integration in Ethiopia requires a lobotomy of sorts, someone to stir the contents of your brain, to mix things around so you don’t think you “know” anything. Determining “right” from “wrong” or “bizarre” from “normal” is not as straightforward if you don’t have a dramatically different basis to compare it to. Making judgments by using such simple adjectives is not constructive and certainly doesn’t help with adjusting to life in Ethiopia. Instead, asking questions and being curious is more practical than deciding you comprehend and have a firm oppinion on something immediately. Below are some observations I have made about Ethiopian culture that I can no longer have a clear verdict for. This is life from a different angle, but life none the less. Ask questions before you determine the answer:

In Ethiopia we don’t rely on nutritious meals to help our children grow strong, we let the strenuous labor take care of it.

In Ethiopia we don’t bother to remove the litter from the streets, the road kill from the highway we let the hyenas take care of it.

In Ethiopia we don’t let the burden of life weigh us down or convince us to make a change; we let god take care of it.

In Ethiopia we don’t expect our government to provide us with safety and security; we let foreign aid take care of it.

In Ethiopia we don’t worry about the long term affects of our actions and inactions; we hope the next generation will take care of it.

Lomii wearing a leaf to protect her hair from the rain.

“Life is calling, where will you go?”

22 September 2012

For nearly 4 years before I joined Peace Corps I was confident that this was the right decision for me. I’m adventurous. I can use a hole for a toilet because I enjoy camping. Adversity, no problem! During all those years at a desk studying for school, feeling my muscles atrophy from a lack of exercise I comforted myself knowing that when I was a Peace Corps Volunteer I would lead an exciting and active life. Ohhh yes, the grass is always greener.

I do not regret my decision to be a PCV, I know that my frustrations and discomforts are proof that I’m learning and improving my character. I know that there is a reason, some destiny of sorts, that has led me to live in Ethiopia, but I often find myself playing the “what if game.”

What if I had accepted my offer to serve in Mexico? Would that have been so bad to have an office job volunteer position rather than living in a small town where no one really wants to work (with or without you).
What if I had just gotten a job abroad and learned through a much quicker process what living abroad is all about? I could have gone to a place of my choosing (and probably be home already).

What if I had finished graduate school first? Would I still have wanted to be a PCV afterwards? Would the headache of a thesis be easier or harder? I could of had my M.S. by now!

Ethiopia is the epitome of an exotic culture. We have tribes of people that stretch their lips using plates, and the topless women, their bodies painted in natural dyes. We’ve got cute babies wandering alone everywhere, their bellies are often swollen from amoebas or because their muscles are not strong enough to hold their organs in place. We’ve got poverty folks! Honest to god poverty, and even if you aren’t poor you put on a sad face and rub your stomach so that the white person might give you some money. I live in Africa, a place that was previously only a series of memories I could recall from National Geographic magazines. This is no longer simply a remarkable photograph, an unimaginable culture, this is my life.  Living with these images is a lot more emotionally disturbing because I can’t flip the page and move on.

Life in a lucid dream

7 September 2012

While waiting at the bus station to see me off to America
Theresa and Orion found this piece of trash that closely
resembles the US... a coincidence? 

Back in Africa, back in Ethiopia, back to reality. While I was in the states for 3 weeks visiting family and friends it felt as though nothing had changed, that my time in Ethiopia was a dream. I had brief instances of culture shock, once at the D.C. airport where I felt like a foreigner and found some Ethiopians to talk to, to help me feel at ease. At grocery stores I was impossibly indecisive. Have there always been this many types of cottage cheese? What’s the difference? Turns out that whole fat, large curd is not delicious and is nothing I’ve ever eaten before. Many things felt different and others, like my nearing-retirement father who is growing out his hair, were obvious difference which were easier to adjust to. Despite some hiccups it really felt as though not much had changed.

Laughing at Charly Parker's awkward "pet me" poses. 

Returning to Ethiopia was more of an adjustment than leaving. I dragged my heels in the Frankfurt airport, hesitant to arrive at my gate, to be a minority among a waiting area congested with Ethiopians. As the attendants spoke on the intercom announcing the seating order of who should board plane first, all the Ethiopian passengers stood up and rushed to the desk. I laughed to myself thinking, typical Ethiopians always in a hurry to go somewhere and not interested in following order and logic. I sat in my chair, stalling, waiting for life to slow down. After I had my ticket scanned and began walking towards the plans entry door I was passed by an older Ethiopian woman headed back to the gate entrance. “Leave her be” said the flight attendants “she doesn’t want to go.” The older lady was alone, obviously overwhelmed with no plan for her escape. She wanted to be return to Ethiopia but was unwilling to complete the journey it would take to get there. A handful of strangers began to inquire what was going on and went to help this grandmother. “Izoch ihuite” (be strong my mother). They told her that she would not be traveling alone because they would be there to help her and ensure her safety. Together the group walked to board the airplane, seconds ago they were strangers but now they were bound as friends, family, as Ethiopians.

Beautiful is the kindness of strangers.

This scenario is quintessential Ethiopia. This is a culture that I love. Suddenly I was ready to board the plane, to embrace my journey once again.

I found a kitten while I was home! and my dad is even
letting us keep it! Someone extra to look forward to
returning home to: Professor Catkins

It’s been 3 days now and each morning I’ve woken up confused. Am I really here? Was I really there? It is the same feeling that I had when I first arrived nearly 11 months before, except with less excitement for the uncertainty. The solution to fix my ambivalence: if I have to be estranged from the people and the places that I love so far away I vow to be as productive as possible, to use my time wisely, to make the most out of my experience and to give myself wholly to help those who live here with me. Ethiopia is a difficult country but never before has change been so rewarding. Thank you to my friends and family who shared my time home with me. I am cannot express my fortune to have such love in my life. My time here is enriched with your continuous support and enthusiasm. Thank you! 

Deep Thoughts by Thoreau

8 August 2012

Greater Kudu

“If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary, new, universal, and more liberal laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him; or the old laws be expanded, and interpreted in his favor in a more liberal sense, and he will live with the license of a higher order of beings. In proportion as he simplifies his life, the laws of the universe will appear less complex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness. If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be.” ( pp. 209)

“What I have observed of the pond is no less true to ethics. It is the law of average. Such a rule of the two diameters not only guides it toward the sun in the system and the heart in man, but draws through the length and breadth of the aggregate of a man’s particular daily behaviors and waves of life into his coves and inlets, and when they intersect will be the height or depth of his character. Perhaps we need only to know how his shores trend and his adjacent country or circumstances, to infer his depth and concealed bottom. If he is surrounded by mountainous circumstances, and Achillean shore, whose peaks overshadow and are reflected in his bosom, they suggest a corresponding depth in him. But a low and smooth shore proves him shallow on that side. In our bodies, a bold projecting brow falls off to and indicates a corresponding depth of thought. Also there is a bar across the entrance of our every cove, or particular inclination, each is our harbor for a season, in which we are detained and partially land-locked. These inclinations are not whimsical usually, but their form, size, and direction are determined by the promontories of the shore, the ancient axes of elevation. When this bar is gradually increased by storms, tides, or currents, or there is a subsidence of the waters, so that it reaches to the surface, that which was at first but an inclination in the shore in which a thought was harbored becomes an individual lake, cut off from the ocean, wherein the thought secures its own conditions, changes, perhaps, from salt to fresh, becomes a sweet sea, dead sea or a marsh. At the advent of each individual into this life, may we not suppose that such a bar has risen to the surface somewhere?” (pp. 188-189)

Walden; or, Life in the Woods, Henry David Thoreau

Sticks and stones, cows and toothbrushes

13 July 2012


This afternoon I was visiting with my favorite neighbors who live two compounds down from mine. This family has always been very warm and welcoming to me. They live in a house that is no larger than 6 x 10 ft but 6 people live there, 4 kids (ages 6-16) and two adults. Despite how cramped the space is, their house is definitely a home. It is so cozy inside and I love to hang out, drink tea and practice English and Oromifa with the kids. Today I noticed that one of the boys was suddenly missing a front tooth! He’s too old for it to have been a baby tooth so I knew there was a good story behind its disappearance. As the story goes, two drunk men were fighting in the street and he was an innocent bystander. One of the men picked up a rock to stone the other but his poor aim sent the rock flying into the mouth of this kid who was merely watching. I asked if the men had paid the family some sort of compensation for his tooth and was told that they were given 800 birr, about $47. The family took him to the dentist where the broken tooth was removed and the rest of the money went towards buying a new calf which will bring the family more income in the future. I did also notice a few weeks ago that the family had acquired a sheep, and I was curious to know how, but after learning about how the calf was bought I would rather not inquire. Who knows what bizarre incident occurred before they encountered the money to make such a large purchase.

Since we were on the topic of teeth I told them to excuse me while I ran home. Inside my house I gathered some toothbrushes and tooth paste that my grandma and dentist had sent me from Oregon. The American in me had been nervous about handing them out as I feared it would imply that I thought the recipients were somehow inadequate; when in actuality I know that these types of items are expensive and for many families buying them would mean prioritizing among other more important purchases such as school supplies and food. I returned with the gifts in hand and felt like Santa Clause. There was a lot of clapping, smiling, squealing and selfish grabbing and hoarding. They were so excited to have toothbrushes! They even sang me songs about using a toothbrush though they had never owned one before. We practiced together, discussing how frequently they should brush, which teeth to not forget, why brushing is important and they gave me hugs and said thank you in their very best English. I even helped Zerihun (the youngest) by brushing his teeth for him, but for fear that I would gag him I instructed him on how to brush his tongue. It was quite a bonding moment for us and more than ever I am considering the family’s offer that I take Zerihun home with me to America (not really, but it is tempting as he is really freaking adorable!!)

Oh my hail

12 July 2012

In Ethiopia, one of the oldest Christian nations in the world, it should not surprise me that seemingly biblical events occur almost regularly. Many people are familiar with the terrible famines that have given the country international infamy. Furthermore many foreigners have told me that they feel as though they are in a time-warp in Ethiopia, as things are done here as you would expect to have happened thousands of years ago. Many people live in round mud homes with thatch roofs, walk barefoot, flow by two oxen, eat without using utensils, etc… Simply put, for better or worse, life in Ethiopia is unbelievable. I have long before accepted this statement as a fact but still I catch myself repeatedly exclaiming “I can’t believe it!” So why was I caught by suprise, yet again, yesterday when we received a hail storm of epic proportions. The storm lasted for only 20 minutes but it left the town covered in white except for the areas when the flash floods tore through the town. I shrugged it off, mourning my young and probably deceased garden and stayed inside for the remainder of the evening.

My garden is a goner!

The next day, I woke up early to go to the primary school. Once inside the school’s compound I post-holed through the hail drifts, sometimes breaking through and the drifts I discovered they were as high as my knees! The rivers are thick and brown with mud and the banks are completely washed out. In one area of my town 11 cows were killed from the weather event. I saw snowball fights and kids making their first snow cones (albeit a little bit muddy). More than two days later there are still many patches of hail around town, some drifts still around 1 foot tall. Some of the hail balls were as large as cherries! Finally, people have something to talk about that is new and exciting again. 

The people that you meet when you're walking down the street!

5 July 2012


In public I am called at by at least 1/3 of the people that see me. After 9 months I’m finally fairly gracious about how I handle all the attention. Most of the time when I have the energy I respond, but I am guilty of ignoring the more obnoxious or ridiculing comments. Here are some of the names I am called, in order of popularity:

B

Fereng

Feregitti

China

Booti 

YOU!

Anchi! 

“Uhhhh”

Mister

Sister

Habasha

Budget

Bridget

British

After such charming titles these demanding or inquisitive phrases follow:

“seena” (come inside)
“quarta me” (come to me)
“Shy bunna dugdhee” (come drink coffee or tea)
“How is the life?”
“Are you fine?” (often followed by a creepy eyebrow raise)
“Neh Anchi!” (come girl)
“Essa baade?”  (where did you disappear to?)
“Biyya barrate?” (are you familiar with the country?)
“Where where do you go?” or “essa demta?”
“Where where do you come?”  or “essa dufte”

 

Get Together

1 July 2012

Thomas stirring the pot-of-meat

Yesterday I was invited to attend the High School faculty’s annual “get together” an end of the school year celebration. I was told to arrive at 10 am and that the party would last all day. I didn’t believe it. I was wrong. I arrived a little tardy at 10:30 (proof of my level of integration) and found the school yard was crowded with giant vultures. Their necks stretched tall, wings spread wide and beaks ready to bite as they fought over each vertebrae, hoof and other miscellaneous fresh carrion pieces. For around 60 adults, two oxen were slaughtered, one for the Christians and the other for Muslims. They say different prayers before killing the animal so they do not eat each other’s meat. The meat was thrown into the largest pot I have ever seen, with water, salt, onion, garlic, ginger and oil and cooked for 2 hours. I helped gather wood from around the school yard and chopped garlic. Inside the meeting room the desks were aligned in two rows with signs which declared “Muslim seating area” and “Christian seating area” so that no one would mix up the meat when they brought it out to serve. I sat in the Muslim area, trying to make a subtle statement because they all think I am a Christian. “Why are you sitting there?” “Come sit over on this side.” I explained that I did not have a preference for a seating area or for either meat. Furthermore, in order to avoid getting sick, I wasn’t even going to eat meat, but a lentil dish that was also provided. Eventually they pulled me over to the Christian side, where I was asked repeatedly why I would not drink beer (because in my community women don’t drink beer in public) and why I did not eat meat. I was gorshad a few times with bits of meat, but successfully avoided being pressured into drinking a beer.

Me with some of my favorite high school faculty holding my boratii

After the meal there was an award ceremony for those teachers who had successful projects or who had gone above and beyond their duties. They were given a certificate and a book. Even the school district authorities were there and they were given beautiful cultural items. My name was the last to be called and I was presented with a certificate of appreciation for my commitment and work with the school’s environmental club and tree nursery. They also gave me a “boratii” which is a wooden pillow that was used back in the day by the Oromo people in my region. Afterwards we had a long and awkward photo session. Each department took a photo of all the teachers, friends posed together and there was even one with the entire faculty. I am pretty sure that I am in each one of those photos (by invitation, not because I’m a meglomaniac). Then I helped prepare a large coffee ceremony and we had a great dance party, which I also participated in. One of the highlights for me was a poem read by one of the English teachers that went something like this:

“Get together

Together we laugh

Together we cry

Together we hold hands

Together we share secrets

Together we make love

Together we share joy…

Get together with me”

Yes, the title of the party was “get together” and yes the poem used the word “together” repeatedly. But no, the direct translation is not appropriate for a High School teachers’ party.

Overall, it was a fantastic celebration. It did last all day as I was there for 7 hours, but I enjoyed it thoroughly. The next day we had a follow up meal to finish all the leftovers. The room where we stored the meat smelled rotten when I entered it as I discovered two huge buckets of raw meat. They just cooked it up and re-created the previous day’s events. These teachers know how to have a good time, and I’m glad I get to be included in their fun.

Failing in Love

6 June 2012

I’m a simple girl when it comes to dating. I’ve only been on 1 semi-fancy first date that involved me purchasing a new outfit, being picked up at my home at a set time, dinner at a nice restaurant and ended with the classic extended and tense goodbye.  Mostly they’ve been along the lines of a hockey game, local breweries, parks or hiking trips. A few previous boyfriends have even informed me that I’m a difficult woman to romance, something along the lines of my awkward outbursts, being difficult to read and not easily accepting the classic female role. I’m quick to open the door first, most often the one to make the first move and be the chaser and not the chased. In Ethiopia, I’ve been on the receiving end of very assertive, incredibly awkward and always pathetic pick up attempts. Really I have come to appreciate the dating game of my own culture and all the men in my life who’ve exercised their version of modern day chivalry. You could all teach these Ethiopian men a thing or two…

Scenario 1: Random guy starts showing up at my house, calling me and acting like we know each other. In my confusion I actually believe that maybe I know him but have just forgotten. I agree to a coffee date where-in he quickly informs me of his plans to become a U.S. citizen by all means possible since Stanford Law recently told him that getting a full ride there unlikely. He heard that through false marriage becoming a citizen is a quick and painless process. I listen patiently (kicking myself for not having anticipating this) then I informed him that he has a better chance of getting an all expense paid invation to Stanford Law School. “I’m engaged to be married” I say (not true), “I’ve been with this guy for a long time and we’re madly infatuated with each other” (true as far as I can discern). “Please respect my relationship and my honesty when I tell you I am not going to marry you so you can emigrate from Ethiopia.” He laughed. I didn’t. We finished out coffee quickly and I made a bee-line to my compound, locking the door behind me.

…. The following day…

Text message from Samuel “I think God created me for you. On the first day I met you my heart started to beat for you! My soul desire to live with you everywhere you go. I did not expect this to happen in my life. But I realized that I always want to stay and live with you! My soul needs your love. It may be surprise for you that I failed in love with you. Bridget I really love you.”

A number of these ridiculous text messages (with hilarious misspellings) came forward even after I demanded that he never contact me again. Eventually I got my landlord involved and the phone calls and messages ceased. Fortunately he doesn’t live in my town so I don’t see him anymore.

Scenario 2: I held a high school writing contest to find candidates for a summer camp I and 11 other PC volunteers are putting on. The prompts for the essay were 1) introduce yourself. 2) Explain how you help support your community. 3) What do you see in your future and how are you going to achieve those goals?

Most of the writing was impressive. There was a lot of talk about how one of their parents had died and they worked hard to support their struggling family. A lot of the students discussed being a medical professional in the future and helping people with AIDS in the community. The means to achieve these goals was primarily faith in God/Allah. One of the essays that stood out was this:

“My name is Abda. I must get doctor. Because I help people for disease. I like advice for people for time to time. Oh My God I Love you. Give my solution. I see you my heart is very happy. My eyes see you. My lip kisses you. All my body for you. How will communicate you. I am very love you. I will give me solution in short time. Good luck.”

Needless to say I will not be chaperoning this students to a week-long summer camp. It gave me and the teachers a good laugh though.

Scenario 3: Leaving Addis the other week I was caught in public transit hell, hoping from one line taxi to another all over town trying to get to the most Southern bus station called Kaliti. A nice older man got on the bus and sat next to me. We struck up some small talk. I explained that I’m an environment volunteer who arrived 8 months before, I live down in W. Arsi and speak Oromifa, blah, blah, blah. When we got off the taxi he helped walk me towards my next mini bus. While zig-zagging through the bustling crowds people and boldly dodging traffic in the streets he told me that he was a university professor and he also works for the president’s administration council. This guy was well dressed, at least 50 years old and his phone even had a fancy key pad so it seemed believable. Before I climbed into the next bus he asked for my contact information in case he ever has work in my area and to make sure that I arrive home safely that evening.

… The following night at 10pm…

Text: “Bigit Hi! Why you didn’t answer my cal’? do you have a husband from Adaba? If your answer is yes, please for my disturbace at almost mid night. If you don’t have a husband there really I am highly impressed with your BEAUTY. Bcoz you are CUTE, SMART & ATTRACTIVE.. You are a LOVELY GIRL that is why I LoVe You. It is not JOCKING but it is from the BOTTOM of my HEART. Have a nice NIGHT! Honestly Yours Shimelis.”

I responded the next day simply with “Please do not ever contact me again.” So far I am in the clear.

Honestly, sometimes I want to wear a burka to conceal myself, but I know my hazel eyes will give me away. Other times I think I should see these moments as opportunities to have a discussion about the motives behind emigration. After all, if motivated and educated individuals abandon Ethiopia who will help work towards Ethiopia’s development progress? Mostly I haven’t had much patience to hang around after these men reveal their intentions. My heart goes out to all the Ethiopian women who are approached in such a manner and have less social-cultural liberties to tell these men what they really think.

Trial and error

22 May 2012

Peace Corps project #1:
Tree nursery establishment and management for local schools.

Sesbania seedling growing strong!

This project was given to me by my supervisor who casual asked if I would help prepare the schools establish individual tree nurseries. He told me that I was assigned to 6 different schools and that I should report back to him in 1 week. Even then I knew that he was under estimating the workload, but I gave it my best shot. Four months later, I have successfully help to build tree nurseries at 4 schools and have been working to manage and advise 6. Daily I average 5 miles of walking back and forth across town and to nearby villages to visit schools and help motivate them. Most of my time is spent talking about instead of physically working in the nurseries. That’s the culture here. It has taken a long time to get to know the teachers, school directors and students. Getting acquainted is equally important as each tree seedling that survives.

My high schools girl students helping to fill poly pots to transplant.

For a while I began to feel deeply discouraged by the lack of progress I was making. After the seeds were sown I felt a big sigh of relief, only to discover that the teachers thought the work was over and neglected to water and weed the seed beds regularly. Some schools never built a proper fence as they promised. Others began to remove fencing and shade structures after they were built because they didn’t understand how they helped to protect the seedlings. They told me they thought the shade structures were blocking too much sun and water; when in actuality seedlings need shelter from excessive sun (which will burn them and desiccate the soi)l and direct water (which can uproot and drowned them). GRrrrrr! For a while I considered abandoning certain schools whose nurseries were failing. It seemed logical to devote my time only into the schools that were more invested. After a few afternoons of isolation I calmed down and realized that if I lost motivation how could I expect the schools to stay interested?

Lesson #231 of my PC experience: Set the example you want others to follow.

High School boys filling poly pots at the tree nursery.

I returned to the schools and have been working a few hours in the morning at one school and a few hours in the afternoon at another. If teachers and students help me I am grateful, but I don’t expect them to. I’m making progress and I’m hoping that the outcome will impress people enough that they’ll be more motivated next year. We’re going to sell out seedlings for 2 or 3 birr each. Students have suggested that we can use the money we earn to help less fortunate students purchase books and uniforms. Worst case scenario: If only enough seedlings survive to earn enough money to help 1 student (roughly 70 seedlings at each school: around 170 birr) then I will consider it a success.

Lesson #232: “success” is a subjective term and its standard of measurement changes frequently.

A day in the life of this PCV

8 March 2012

Early morning walk to work. 

It’s 5:00am, 11:00 Ethiopian time, and I’m already awake. Though I lie in silence, it’s the noise I anticipate which keeps me from falling back asleep. Soon enough roosters, mosques, horse hooves and loud radios create a chorus which brings me closer to a conscious state. Finally I surrender and climb out of bed and into my clothes. I stretch, slip on my running shoes and begin the best part of the day. As I run south down my street I watch closely for rocks that wish to trip me and dogs that might bite. I greet sleepy church go-ers wrapped in their white cotton scarves (“natalas”) as the Orthodox Church’s megaphone beckons them. Up the hill miles from town the sun overcomes the mountain range making my shadow as long and lean as the Eucalyptus trees I pass.

“Dhena adesh” “Nagga boultanii”

“Salam no” “Akkam jirta”

“Good Morning”                                      “Dhena adarachuu”

It has only been 1 hour since I left my home, yet I’ve shared greetings with at least 20 people. I return home to shower, dress, eat breakfast and walk to work. Going to the office, or anywhere public, is the same performance of smiling, shaking hands, removing my hat, waving, greeting and making small talk. When I have the energy I am good at it and even enjoy it. I am always given the opportunity to meet new people each time I walk outside my compound. The trick of it is that Ethiopians are all better at socializing than I am (believe it mom!). They will often remember your name, talk to you as if you had nowhere else to be and then invite you to have coffee with them. When I explain that I have a destination, work, they smile and offer to accompany me. So we continue together, hand in hand, having a conversation that I may or may not be following. Today a man chased me down to ask me if I knew how soldiers were commanded to salute the flag in America…what? There is really no way I can best prepare myself for these encounters.

I caught my neighbor boy on his front porch pretending to wash clothes. 

At work there is another parade of people to greet as I creep closer to the office. After 3 months at site I only remember a fraction of their names and faces. They quiz me occasionally, which results in crowds of laugher and some embarrassment on my part and that of the person I can’t recall. Normally I am honest, but occasionally I mumble “...Mohammed?” and 50% of the time I’m correct. Then I give them a taste of their own medicine and ask if they know my name… silence. Now we can all laugh without embarrassment.

The woreda (district) natural resource, agriculture and vet offices. 

The office is full of friendly faces. People busy heading out to the field or writing reports. I appear to make the attendance roll but often leave within 2 hours to meet with school directors, friends or buy food from the market. If I have work to do I find an empty desk and get to my business. It won’t be too long before some bored co-worker from another office drops in to say hello and stare over my shoulder. I answer questions until I make it clear that I am interested to work and not shoot the breeze. So we will sit together in silence, me writing away, he staring at me writing away. After some time I may ask “you don’t have any work today?” and I’ll hear “yes, I do have work. That is why I am here at the office.” This confuses me because he is not from my Agriculture office, but his duties are next door, and so how could he be working if he’s not in his office…? My thoughts manifest themselves on my confused face and he goes on to explain “in Ethiopia culture it is common to be idle at work.” So that is that. Some days I have left work to find a group of 20 people standing under a tree outside the office. When I ask if the electricity is out, thinking that would explain things, they smile and say “no, the lights are on. Why do you ask? Never mind, come chat with us!”

More government offices. Made with local clay soil, manure, straw and cement. 

I return home and cook up some lunch. This normally involves some combination of kale, tomatoes, lentils, beans, rice, carrots or beets. Afterwards I read, write letters or work on computer documents (school work, proposals, PC reports) until my next appointment with friends, organizations or schools. After lunch I prefer to stay around my compound because with the warming temperature, the wind starts to rush through the streets bringing dust and stirring people up, making some of them too obnoxious for my patience. If I do go out at this time I walk with my head down to avoid dirt in my face and eye contact with socially aggressive individuals.

My walk home from work at the end of the day.

By the time the mosque calls at 6:30pm I’m normally in my compound preparing dinner and winding down from the day. Often I cross the street to visit with Zewditu. Her home frequently has guests and we sit comfortably watching Ethiopian news and making small talk. Zed’s house feels like home to me and I rarely go a day without a hug from her. When I leave to return to my house she follows me out to make sure I get inside my compound safely even though it is only 30 feet from her home. We remark about the ceiling of stars that float above us and identify the few we know. The stillness of night mollifies me and I am ready lie down. Usually before 9pm I’m already snug under my blankets working through my latest book.

It’s a comfortable life that offers frequent rest and relaxation. However, please believe that the down time is well earned. Though I may not be working steadily for 8 hours a day the few public activities I am engaged in are exhausting because I am listening to 2 different foreign languages and having to play the part of a spunky, carefree and competent individual, even when sometimes I feel just the opposite. Each day I am making strides, enjoying the culture and developing project ideas. At the very least I will be in good running shape for the duration of my volunteer service and teach people that freckles are not dirt, but a permanent part of some white people’s complexion.

Melkam Fasica!

15 April 2012

Happy Easter from Ethiopia!

To celebrate my first Easter in Ethiopia I returned to my home stay family who I spent 3 months with during training. After 8 hours on stuffy buses it was finally my turn to yell “WARAJJ!” (stop).  I stepped off the congested minivan, into the dark, and let the rain softly wash the public transport aroma off me. As I began to walk two smiling figures made their way towards me. My sister Nani and my uncle quickly embraced me and gave me shelter under their umbrella. We walked to our warm, quiet house where I was greeted with flowers and countless hugs, smiles and kisses. It feels great to return home!

Guz-Guz celebrated her first birthday since I moved and she
now has grown 6 teeth and can walk!

After 40 days of fasting the Ethiopian Orthodox Christians were overjoyed for Easter to commence. Orthodox Christian’s fast for over 150 days each year. Fasting here means not eating animal products, i.e. being vegan. Fasting is an important part of their religion and a major point of cultural pride; so you might be just as surprised as I was to learn that Easter is a massive blood bath. Having said that, I will now warn you that the rest of this blog is quite explicit and gruesome, and yes, we are still talking about Easter.

This picture was cropped. You're welcome!

At midnight my family broke fast by waking everyone up and eating “duro wat” the favorite dish of Ethiopians. Mr. Cock-a-doddle-do was sacrificed the day before as duro wat takes nearly 10 hours to cook.  I slept through the midnight feast but was again awoken in the morning at 6am, not too eat, but to observe the carnage. Though my family was eager to share this cultural experience with me, I declined my front row seat to watch the first victim, Billy Goat, be laid to rest. Outside our compound a large ox met his maker. For families who cannot afford their own individual animal they buy a large ox with 6-10 other families who all share the cost and meat.

After the deed had been done I took my fingers out of my ears and meekly walked towards my family who worked busily around the resting goat. Men are only allowed to kill animals in Ethiopian culture. My home stay dad Seyome announced a prayer to thank the animal and God for the nourishment and with haste Billy was laid to rest. Everyone was given a task to do. Nani collected the blood which was later grilled with the intestines and served with injera (actually quite tasty). My brother and uncle cleaned the internal organs and Seyome skinned the animal. On many levels it was an education experience for me. Not only did I learn how everything fits together anatomically, but my family explained to me which parts are delicious and how they are prepared for a meal. Just when I thought I was over the initial shock I was knocked back into it when my dad pressed his lips against the goat’s $@&#hole to inflate the bowels for easy cleaning. WOW!

For breakfast we had bread, injera, grilled meat, meet-meeta (spice) and wine. I was too in the moment to take pictures of our meal, but just imagine an enormous plate, nearly 2 ft in diameter, filled with small chunks of meat, rosemary, onions and peppers resting on top of injera. There were 6 of us around the table enjoying our FRESH breakfast. Having wine this early was a first for me, but it did compliment the meal and it was a better option than tela (homemade beer). Soon enough the gorshas began. Gorsha is another highlight of Ethiopian culture where someone hand-feeds you to show their love and respect. As the guest I was busy accepting food from everyone’s greasy fingers and trying to return the favor without getting my fingers bitten off. Never before in my life would I have thought such a gesture could be so affectionate and become sentimental; but this morning as I was being gorshad by a tableful of warm friends I felt an honest appreciation for Easter.

Nani breaking up the blood chunks.

Jack enjoying some goat blood goulash for breakfast.

My home stay uncle, brother and father skinning our Easter feast.

Mobaylii Koo Na Bilbiltii

13 April 2012

At 6:15 a.m. my ears are pierced with the ring of my cheap little cell phone. I stare sleepily as it wiggles and lights up demanding that I respond. Perturbed but curious I check the number to see if maybe my family is calling. +1259284--- no, I don’t recognize this number. A wrong number is especially annoying here because I don’t have the language skills to explain that I’m not the person they are trying to reach. Instead, if I answer they yell “hello” “hello” over and over again until I hang up. If I hang up or ignore the caller will ring me over, and over, and over, and over until they lose interest which can be a minimum of 6 phone calls. This is exactly what happened this morning. I didn’t recognize the number so I muted it and rolled over. After 4 callbacks I decided to press “answer” but not actually say anything or listen, just use up their minutes so they would be discouraged from calling back. I pressed “answer” and set the phone back down. After 3 minutes I noticed the caller had not hung-up. I put my ear to the receiver and heard eerie instrumental Ethiopian music on the other line. I listened for a while then hung up. We played this game over and over until my phone stopped ringing.

Often if someone wants to talk to you on the phone but they are too cheap to use their own minutes they will call you and hang up as soon as you answer. In theory this would entice someone to return the call in order to finish the conversation that hasn’t actually began. I understand the logic, and know that it is common in this culture, but frankly I find it quite annoying. Once at the bank someone was calling me in this manner and every time I reached in my purse to touch the phone the caller would hang up. It happened 5 times repeatedly and I got the feeling that someone was watching me.

Many phones have a feature called “fake call” where you can program your phone to call you at a certain time. From my experience here I would think this is most appropriate during a long, drawn-out coffee ceremony at your neighbor’s house or when a creeper is chatting you up and you want to escape. I have yet to use the “fake call” feature but I do find it amusing. If your phone doesn’t have a fake call setting you can just pretend you are receiving a call as I witnessed yesterday by a young man seeing me walk towards him on the street.

…Cell phone doesn’t ring, young man pulls it from his pocket and answers it swiftly as his friends snicker and play along…

“HELLO! baby. Where where are you?”

… brief silence as he pretends to listen to his imaginary girlfriend…

“I love you so much baby. Yes, you are my world.”

… drawn out pause as he tries to remember another phrase from an English romantic comedy movie…

“Yes I am going now to the market but I miss you. Baby I love you, come to meet me.”

Fun fact: In my county (known as a “woreda”) over 80% of people own cell phones but only around 65% have electricity in their homes. Cell phones are something of a new technology in Ethiopia and it is fun to see how people use them and become familiar. Most adults yell into the receiver no matter if they are in a loud room or alone in an open field. Being on the receiving end of this call is abrasive and frustrating. Cell phones also double as an mp3 player and many young people play their music of choice loud as they walk down the street or ride on a public bus. On such noisy trips, several volunteers, myself included, have worn headphones that were not connected to an mp3 player. This is a successful tactic to block some of the loud cell-phone music from harassing your ear drums and it also prevents people from making small talk with you when you are too exhausted to play the game of 10 questions. My fellow PCV Bree even goes as far to bob her head up and down, side to side to really convince people she can’t hear them and doesn’t want to be bothered.

Rude or not rude?

5 April 2012

          The last 2 weeks my environment group gathered in Hawassa for our in service training. We participated in various workshops to learn new technical skills, project design management, and also to discuss our cultural integration. One cross-cultural seminar we played a game to help us consider how American values are different than those in Ethiopia. The activity was called “rude or not rude”. This game was difficult because we are still learning to balance our American culture in Ethiopia. I found myself having to decide which scenario I thought was rude, in what context and if it even mattered in the big picture. I copied down the scenarios to share the opportunity for you to learn more about Ethiopian culture.

·         Charging a price (often double) for foreigners (common throughout Ethiopia)

·         Arriving late to a meeting without an explanation (common, but doesn’t apply to foreigners)

·         Wearing a knee revealing skirt in public (considered inappropriate in most of Ethiopia)

·         Seeing an acquaintance while eating and not inviting them to eat with you. (RUDE! Even if you eat in public amongst strangers you are expected to share)

·         Cutting in line at the bank teller window and looking at people’s account/transaction information (Common. One volunteer experienced a stranger asking the bank teller to announce the volunteer’s account balance because he was curious)

·         Asking someone about the strange appearance of their skin. (Common. Ethiopian’s generally have beautiful skin with few flaws or variation in color. If you have freckles or pimples Ethiopians will point them out and ask questions.)

·         Being critical of someone’s work during a workplace meeting (common and varies according to context)

·         Interrupting someone who is in the middle of a conversation to say hello (the interrupter is not rude, but if you don’t stop your conversation immediately and respond to them then you are considered rude)

·         Picking your nose (VERY common amongst all age groups as are snot rockets… ewww)

·         Insisting that the window on a bus stays open/closed (Ethiopians think that you can get sick (TB) from fresh air on public buses so they prefer the windows to be closed and will close your window if you don’t fight to keep it open. Even if they are sweating profusely or someone becomes sick on the bus they will not open the windows)

·         Clapping your hands at a restaurant to get the waiters attention (Not rude and often the only way you can get the waiter to give you attention)

·         Remarking about weight gain (Not rude)

·         Not washing your hands before a meal (Rude, but often people just rinse their hands without using soap so it isn’t really a matter of sanitation, just culture)

·         Not visiting a sick friend (Rude, especially if you don’t visit a family after a death)

·         Not allowing your neighbor to borrow cleaning supplies (Rude, things should be shared and value over people is higher than assets)

·         Not introducing others before you begin conversation (Not rude, even if you are walking with your spouse failing to introduce them to an acquaintance you meet is not common)