Goodbye Sisay

4 February 2012

          Nestled between Assela and Bokoji, I never thought that the lonely town of Sagure would be a destination of ours, nor did we think that the events leading up to it would occur; but it did happen, and today we went... to Sagure to mourned the death of our beloved Oromifa teacher:

Sisay Lemma.

The last day of class: Me, Sisay and Dexter learning vocabulary for body parts. I was teaching Sisay Spanish. 

Sisay had been working with PC for around 7 years. Dexter and I were his last two students in training. Somedays it was difficult to tell if we did more laughing or learning, but I suppose they are enhanced by one another anyhow. To learn new vocabulary occasionally we would play “Go Fish.”  Some cards would hold the vocabulary word and the idea was to ask others for the card bearing the translation or definition in order to make a pair. After English, Oromifa is the first language Dexter has attempted to learn and after 30 years of being a chiropractor, his memory doesn’t retain as much as he would like. During our games of “Go Fish” Dex would quickly end up with 20+ cards in his deck because he couldn’t recall the word to match his hand in order to find pairs. Sisay of course knew all the answers and would let Dexter fill up his hands until cards were falling on the floor, then Sisay would clean Dexter out by asking for one card after the next until he was the winner. Fortunately Dex was a good sport because Sisay didn’t have much self restraint when it came to laughing, and these moments would get him choking with laughter until his eyes would tear up. Soon enough I would begin laughing at Sisay’s antics and then Dex would give up and join us.  

Sisay was easy company because he was hilarious, intelligent and considerate. He had the mannerisms and lingo of a 20-something American, yet he was also Habesha through and through. I have yet to meet an Ethiopian who can balance the best of each culture. He was never put off by our strange questions about Ethiopia culture, though to others they may have seemed insensitive or ignorant. He was also very familiar with American culture and politics. Once, Dexter and I wrote a short life story in Oromifa about Michael Jackson. The exercise was to practice tenses and time sequence vocabulary, instead we all three ended up in deep discussion about the virtue and integrity of the Kind of Pop’s career. I still have the story and I read it occasionally with others to have a good laugh. For me, the novelty of being able to talk about Michael Jackson in an African language is fantastic, but Sisay would be pleased to know that I can have such a profound conversation in his mother tongue.

He and his mother were very close as she was a single parent of two boys, Sisay was the eldest. Sisay’s mom taught him to cook and clean as would have been the case if she had had a daughter. It is rare for Ethiopian men to know and exercise such skills, and Sisay was proud of them which made it even more unique. During training he cooked for and taught other PC instructors (both male and female) their way around the kitchen.

When he wasn’t working and traveling with PC, Sisay lived with his mom in his hometown of Sagure. Last Sunday they went to a nearby lake to relax and visit the Orthodox church on the lake’s island. When they returned from the boat ride to the island the family was resting on the shore, and Sisay was in the water. Before anyone realized anything had happened they saw clothes floating on the surface, and then they recognized it was Sisay floating… drowned… dead. No one heard any struggle or splashing, they are unsure if he slipped and hit his head or if he had been trying to swim. It happened too quickly for them to recognize a problem or to revive him. Sisay was only 27 years old.

As with all Orthodox Christian funerals he was buried the following afternoon and the mourners have been with his family each day since. Today, 5 days after the event, we went to visit his family and pay our respects. We wanted them to know that the time he was away from his family, and with us in training, we loved and appreciated him also. As soon as we walked in the front door it was obvious our arrival was a surprise, her astonishment quickly transitioned into loud wailing and chanting of his name. It was as if she’d forgotten that he wasn’t simply a wonderful son, but also a compassionate teacher who touched many lives. She cried for him, for his kindness and talent as a teacher, for his future which had been cut short. Another one of our Oromifa teachers, Ayu, had come with us to Sagure. She had not only worked with Sisay the past 7 years, but they also went to the same University together. Though Ayu is Muslim, she attends Christian ceremonies if she is invited or interested. In the Muslim religion women do not attend the funeral. Families may fast for weeks, and crying is not encouraged. As with Sarah’s funeral just 2 months before, Ayu was weeping alongside us. I admire her spiritual flexibility and the courage it takes to show such raw emotions.

After we cried ourselves dry we were served a lunch of lentils and injera followed by a coffee ceremony. In return we gave them gifts of coffee, sugar and money. The room’s emotions lightened and we began to chat amongst ourselves. During this time many people visited the family offering their condolences and gifts. Sometime after lunch we heard an engine running outside the house. People began shuffling the furniture and Ayu sat fidgeting next to me. She whisperd “the priest has come and I don’t know what it means.” Dressed in ornate outfits and each carrying a hand carved wooden cross, 4 Orthodox priests floated into the room. The highest priest (as made evident by the shape of his hat) sat next to Sisay’s mother and brother. He offered a prayer and two more priests spoke after him (it is times like this when I wish I had learned Amharic). After prayer a pitcher of water was presented and prayed upon to create holy water. Most everyone in the room gathered around the priests as they dipped their hands into the pitcher and threw water against the already damp faces. One of the priests came over to greet me, and I told him that Sisay had been my teacher. We embraced and just as quickly as they arrived they departed. Inside the home, I am not sure if the priests’ attendance is common, judging my Ayu’s words I think it was a special event, and it seemed to please Sisay’s family as they settled back into their seats, soaking wet and in a daze.

Out of all the opportunities I have had to integrate into Ethiopian culture, mourning over the people I’ve grown to love is not my favorite. Before Ethiopia I had never attended a single funeral. In the past two months we have said farewell to two very young, vivacious and remarkable individuals. There is no rationality for such tragedies and my heart goes out to their families: may they have the strength to live for those who are still with us. 

So what are you doing for work anyway?

31 January 2012 

My assigned work office is the Agriculture and Rural development office, which I am involved with through my connection with Zewditu. Our town is the center of the woreda, or district, in the zone of W. Arsi which is in the Region (essentially a state or province) of Oromia, there are 9 regions in Ethiopia.

 Inside our woreda we are responsible for 22 kabeles, or rural towns. These kabeles were originally separate klans which had their own means of governance and land distribution. In 1974 when the imperial regime fell with the death of Emperor Haili Selassie, the communist Derg regime came into power and land reform was at the top of their agenda. The idea was that before private land holdings created a system of feudalism where very few people held land creating an enormous lower class of indentured workers. The Derg nationalized all the land so it was not possible to own private land. The traditional klans became kabeles with “peasants associations” as a form of small-scale local governance. The office I work with acts as a liaison to implement the national government’s policies in the rural kabeles. Are you still following me? If so, here are two of the ongoing projects my office is busy working on:

Soil erosion mitigation: Creation of physical structure to reduce soil erosion. These terraces, check dams or canals are all built by hand, not machines. My office loans out tools as the peasants don’t even have the basics to begin the work. Currently soil conservation measures are of high priority because the rainy season (our first of two) is coming next month and with the rain washes the soil and the potential productivity of next year’s crop. It is astonishing to see the work ethic of these farmers as they build 300+ m of bunt terraces, and canals to channel water away from fields.

Nursery development and reforestation: Since Ethiopia has seen a deforestation rate of 150,000 hectares annually with a total forest cover loss of 40% (historically) to 3% (currently). The government is attempting to replace trees in hope of reversing the trend. My office is mandated to give free tree seeds to any individual, group or peasant association that desires to plant trees. The strange part is that my office has to buy these seeds from the government and their budget is pretty limited already. Regardless, they do their best to meet the needs of the people. Currently we are weighing, sorting and delivering tree seeds from several native and exotic species. The recipients are expect to grow the seeds to seedlings are replant them to their permanent site taking all the precautions necessary to ensure their survival. This process requires a lot of time and money spent by the people in my office who work 6 days a week, unfortunately their efforts are trumped by an annual seedling fatality rate of around 50%.

Somewhere in all of this there is an opportunity for me to have a master’s thesis. I’m considering investigating the mortality rate and figuring out a way to give greater incentive to the farmers for them to better ensure the seedlings’ survival. Also, there seems to be a lack of training to care for seedlings, which are notoriously finicky. A project to encourage reciprocal knowledge sharing so that the people were teaching each other, instead of waiting for someone from the government to re-train them every few years would be ideal.  Seems like a good area to spend my time that would give back to my office, the greater community and the beautiful landscapes I get to call home for 2 years. 

Staying centered

29 January 2012

In Ethiopia I find myself walking through the pages of a National Geographic magazine, whose timeless photographs are now animated, the characters have become my neighbors and the scenery the route of my daily morning run.

I witness happiness where others see hardship and hunger.

I see beauty through wrinkles, scars and exhaustion.

I hear hope in the laugher of children, rustle of eucalyptus leaves and the pounding of the mortars and pestles.

I am learning a culture of tradition, spirituality and patience;

a lifestyle of love, gratitude and simplicity;

a disposition of optimism, compassion and curiosity.

Sometimes I forget that I am living the most outrageous, exquisite and memorable adventure of my life. When I least expect it, like today riding back from Hawassa on a stuffy, overcrowded bus I find enlightenment. I am overcome by emotion as my eyes scan the landscape through the open window, as I notice the stranger I share my seat with, or as I begin to tune back into the background noise of conversations in numerous different languages.I must be adapting if these sensations are just moments, instead of astonishment every waking hour of the each day.