Tuesday, October 23, 2012

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…

Sunday, October 7, 2012

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.