tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40242847103805033862024-02-06T18:46:32.030-08:00...Two continents and an OceanMy journey as a Peace Corps volunteer in Ethiopia.The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.comBlogger70125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-89110309501200453752013-11-21T23:23:00.001-08:002013-11-21T23:26:16.065-08:00Hair Care(less). <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;">Hair styles are varied in Ethiopia, from men to women and all the children, everyone has something different. Here are some of the most entertaining hairstyles that I've captured on camera.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggOYleMCUAX13xFJxTq0Vj839oebyRtpYJBDyWE-6V4ZenKNdKDmwdxM1PhIAiYVjjc8UF33YfO-lTLoF04_Kfe8vzF-Svo0URqcxY7-n8WMU828oEQDVZjaebwfpno6BgPFgdDbyfLFK1/s1600/DSC05556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggOYleMCUAX13xFJxTq0Vj839oebyRtpYJBDyWE-6V4ZenKNdKDmwdxM1PhIAiYVjjc8UF33YfO-lTLoF04_Kfe8vzF-Svo0URqcxY7-n8WMU828oEQDVZjaebwfpno6BgPFgdDbyfLFK1/s640/DSC05556.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you turn a wig inside out this is what the stitching looks like. <br />
My favorite part is the little tail coming out the crown of her head.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZTgA8akLpz-5D5qHCTnGd2V7c2cle-fmZG3rqmnke6XSm71YFTNzVaJKBK6Kf4asJJSLopUZNzubMgCs4BStVtH1jx0kCn3QRVC6vKhyphenhyphenU-X7xXaaHRPa_4181H2Gwqnv7MT9NOwwWWjRp/s1600/DSC05558.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZTgA8akLpz-5D5qHCTnGd2V7c2cle-fmZG3rqmnke6XSm71YFTNzVaJKBK6Kf4asJJSLopUZNzubMgCs4BStVtH1jx0kCn3QRVC6vKhyphenhyphenU-X7xXaaHRPa_4181H2Gwqnv7MT9NOwwWWjRp/s640/DSC05558.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rat tails are still in style for Ethiopian boys</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Od9JqrT6AFSU1xiwcL3quJtQPreZNTgCu7Ba_ItnqOpvcQsZUt1TKRctAk6YCSofUu-lH630GiPxdwxNWPebq4MabC7qYUozslgk9bo917NQOh1-YSnlu4prDQdFEB-OWkaFZVDKM5lX/s1600/DSC05573.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Od9JqrT6AFSU1xiwcL3quJtQPreZNTgCu7Ba_ItnqOpvcQsZUt1TKRctAk6YCSofUu-lH630GiPxdwxNWPebq4MabC7qYUozslgk9bo917NQOh1-YSnlu4prDQdFEB-OWkaFZVDKM5lX/s640/DSC05573.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loomi after she took her braids out</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqTC6OAvgaV46YTo7BNgRCdKByJXUpAhBz3ZJzZ4puAGzOZPUkvdl7egqYjiUN_fSnsHWDd-iR4S8P5Z51qNZVNh2jOB2phlipWy1d99JjRI4txP5k-MPavjyrNJg1cH9yZ3E4iXaT5uwD/s1600/DSC05593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqTC6OAvgaV46YTo7BNgRCdKByJXUpAhBz3ZJzZ4puAGzOZPUkvdl7egqYjiUN_fSnsHWDd-iR4S8P5Z51qNZVNh2jOB2phlipWy1d99JjRI4txP5k-MPavjyrNJg1cH9yZ3E4iXaT5uwD/s640/DSC05593.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mituu with her Tigray region bumps</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkN75U4UnR00vqNApQtCXuNiLS7OY-Q6gOW3z3vG0ec6DxaOeFR4nLO4bRKA7O0Vzy2EH0dGtv28KmPYdLuAbYABX38ZObhNa30GsbtAYQRdklE52_Up-Hn8-zZ-ut3ZS_gJvJyQeYBnxC/s1600/DSC06052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkN75U4UnR00vqNApQtCXuNiLS7OY-Q6gOW3z3vG0ec6DxaOeFR4nLO4bRKA7O0Vzy2EH0dGtv28KmPYdLuAbYABX38ZObhNa30GsbtAYQRdklE52_Up-Hn8-zZ-ut3ZS_gJvJyQeYBnxC/s640/DSC06052.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Once, I braided Loomi's hair for school. Not to bad ehh? </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPIzifhkyzWdtlFZUtFkyt3V1Z9i4ZEdlVFTUq2PFwziE4vLMTW6DcyLvfZFYhZBkA5jOri6RsX1wq7S3rWpJ6CC_tsofy__VhZRwS56M6u1fnnLz3qCEdqObrWtSDCeKkFgb2avFmKfz-/s1600/DSC_0576.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPIzifhkyzWdtlFZUtFkyt3V1Z9i4ZEdlVFTUq2PFwziE4vLMTW6DcyLvfZFYhZBkA5jOri6RsX1wq7S3rWpJ6CC_tsofy__VhZRwS56M6u1fnnLz3qCEdqObrWtSDCeKkFgb2avFmKfz-/s640/DSC_0576.JPG" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tigray girl who hiked with me, the thin cornrows are traditional,<br />
the dread locks are her own style.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5iiAgtPynoAAJeIeabQyIpSedY72aWx_ZBgDiDnlrrd8fGfEjkhGJDQgUAVnOK4JB-TbWRtIDgKQlnShoTdKPXayxyNECST4aQQ6qc-RynHh8LVnojaWd6L35vLak8W0AbaZkGogVeimo/s1600/tigray+girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5iiAgtPynoAAJeIeabQyIpSedY72aWx_ZBgDiDnlrrd8fGfEjkhGJDQgUAVnOK4JB-TbWRtIDgKQlnShoTdKPXayxyNECST4aQQ6qc-RynHh8LVnojaWd6L35vLak8W0AbaZkGogVeimo/s640/tigray+girls.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My fellow PCVs in the Tigray region took it upon themselves to experience Ethiopian beauty salon magic.<br />
Yes, that is a lot of yellow weave!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgItWG-Q2DzIeM7KuaD9iNRKNSjiQPFepWe1xWTxYssNboZav39idQ-i5DoLajHjw10opXceEZ_YknIXwGrwgsiXBCD5Yqiw05mAwpg5P_k8t5-5-AD2yyTDlSmSIzoLAjmIG6bl2IwwucE/s1600/braid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgItWG-Q2DzIeM7KuaD9iNRKNSjiQPFepWe1xWTxYssNboZav39idQ-i5DoLajHjw10opXceEZ_YknIXwGrwgsiXBCD5Yqiw05mAwpg5P_k8t5-5-AD2yyTDlSmSIzoLAjmIG6bl2IwwucE/s640/braid.jpg" width="514" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I had a moment of trepidation about leaving Ethiopia, so my friend Burtukan braided my hair. It seemed like a worthy activity at the time, but obviously is not something I should have explored. It's not a look I plan on repeating, but plenty of laughs were had from it. You're welcome.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijaASsTzLv0-1jIQulucI0VzjzSFmfu-Zoig1NItdiUgCLqIQ71PmGwvjiPzFFcpsYcph1wFxCNT7Wr9r4EHdl9aKuQGI-8Bag22lhpDyIHzTwYS7LmsqmcVoy7yZ0mR_ibELitf_rpKK_/s1600/crazy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijaASsTzLv0-1jIQulucI0VzjzSFmfu-Zoig1NItdiUgCLqIQ71PmGwvjiPzFFcpsYcph1wFxCNT7Wr9r4EHdl9aKuQGI-8Bag22lhpDyIHzTwYS7LmsqmcVoy7yZ0mR_ibELitf_rpKK_/s640/crazy.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is after I took out my cornrows. It looks like I'm a librarian addicted to prescription drugs.<br />
Again, it's not a look I plan on repeating or a lifestyle I will adopt, but it gives plenty of laughs. You're welcome.</td></tr>
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The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-10456791785034916062013-11-07T00:00:00.002-08:002013-11-07T00:15:09.644-08:00How to make a world map!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilJUtFY0nqFhWYBiFa0CBi9bBgId3SSE1gqwkGlHVYDopXCi_GJ2ZG-5o6SNhmmr8k4NEDvsq5vpXOb0bK8gH3jqaKFN2x2sRFSK9HjmsMQUdvXotO_GCLOZ0pTe3zfz22s892wm4zleq-/s1600/DSC_0153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilJUtFY0nqFhWYBiFa0CBi9bBgId3SSE1gqwkGlHVYDopXCi_GJ2ZG-5o6SNhmmr8k4NEDvsq5vpXOb0bK8gH3jqaKFN2x2sRFSK9HjmsMQUdvXotO_GCLOZ0pTe3zfz22s892wm4zleq-/s640/DSC_0153.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Starting fresh! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_J4DWufpy2cfXqdTmNXp2pVxiztUvX0M3auUMbIn8WrS-P9NpSmO2HVRzuZm4Iy4w2BmCTOaSPgLGoNjggpKmuJzYO3Vv47aplMxnAKs3daNsMlTdjtKtYDVd0SIoAMpcgjKTaYP_5nJ/s1600/DSC_0159.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_J4DWufpy2cfXqdTmNXp2pVxiztUvX0M3auUMbIn8WrS-P9NpSmO2HVRzuZm4Iy4w2BmCTOaSPgLGoNjggpKmuJzYO3Vv47aplMxnAKs3daNsMlTdjtKtYDVd0SIoAMpcgjKTaYP_5nJ/s640/DSC_0159.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All the world oceans</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-GzHlvsZ5cd3KO2HbBlxahc3-JLUrhpAkdg62jxLBhVqzUdme41Zq4BxPFzxdGpH9XcX0FcpcNMCohS_AB6dAdNXGdtrzrxm2ogwNrsjhfuUb9NsfUEg-V6O90WiHcGmKLRRDp39uF0H-/s1600/DSC_0168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-GzHlvsZ5cd3KO2HbBlxahc3-JLUrhpAkdg62jxLBhVqzUdme41Zq4BxPFzxdGpH9XcX0FcpcNMCohS_AB6dAdNXGdtrzrxm2ogwNrsjhfuUb9NsfUEg-V6O90WiHcGmKLRRDp39uF0H-/s640/DSC_0168.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">South America is penciled out</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTj0v2y-ztISSxI-PIvgrDxE_2vvMk2cpvWZfugE4HKEG_dGu7LVhmyMhp5hs-hCheLXhFErO7ovQ9M4ibHaX-_3T2AUo6qXdX8z9SMGhdPR7q4skSHd4aJQ9l8sxXsIcDLK7vyTuhUEAx/s1600/DSC_0170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTj0v2y-ztISSxI-PIvgrDxE_2vvMk2cpvWZfugE4HKEG_dGu7LVhmyMhp5hs-hCheLXhFErO7ovQ9M4ibHaX-_3T2AUo6qXdX8z9SMGhdPR7q4skSHd4aJQ9l8sxXsIcDLK7vyTuhUEAx/s640/DSC_0170.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Recruit friends to help make the mundane work more fun</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTuzCmjfW-0PEwYEOsxaTlDGQHg4UZbftdTmthPg6oVT3ICoQyfGNKjlVcBDw0XI36uzz4jX-9skRdKCjKvDDZblDlMivCqRr6QpGevsT5dWVAT4QN6i9_5DRi_h-_UEH5BCsQhMv3Gl6g/s1600/DSC_0213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTuzCmjfW-0PEwYEOsxaTlDGQHg4UZbftdTmthPg6oVT3ICoQyfGNKjlVcBDw0XI36uzz4jX-9skRdKCjKvDDZblDlMivCqRr6QpGevsT5dWVAT4QN6i9_5DRi_h-_UEH5BCsQhMv3Gl6g/s640/DSC_0213.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joe starting to paint</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLSUn1CHCluoP_3M3O_19ASganWJ7GUZ0xILTzn1oSr0toTQPyUsVQoWFF_ZKEzpP6W3Z1WrSSvvK4uvxcjIrhbIadtgz_UwZUgcRz-B1wIRLmJoUP7zxYqrYXnWOZScTQuQ5u4qbin01i/s1600/DSC_0220.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLSUn1CHCluoP_3M3O_19ASganWJ7GUZ0xILTzn1oSr0toTQPyUsVQoWFF_ZKEzpP6W3Z1WrSSvvK4uvxcjIrhbIadtgz_UwZUgcRz-B1wIRLmJoUP7zxYqrYXnWOZScTQuQ5u4qbin01i/s640/DSC_0220.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We recruited Ibsa to help us paint, over 200 countries takes a lot of time.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqmuEtn-L-uJONN_wg44GM1sMtod_wdU7jhwuATdvyB6KhwOBnljW6VyQ5pP7rlqTNufgWu10FEniGvPwfeGlfFXmojV1OaMYXUjUKCVj0iSGtVUARGw3CTG4SBiBCTnitNMoclegRKBPY/s1600/DSC05969.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="630" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqmuEtn-L-uJONN_wg44GM1sMtod_wdU7jhwuATdvyB6KhwOBnljW6VyQ5pP7rlqTNufgWu10FEniGvPwfeGlfFXmojV1OaMYXUjUKCVj0iSGtVUARGw3CTG4SBiBCTnitNMoclegRKBPY/s640/DSC05969.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All the countries are painted and our little friends approve!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyphenhyphenvtJDdCGGm_a7bli1lIJI4_rLV_GM9PbvxjxfyKM6TiQrfMNN3w1tOQASZLH8CW59lW274eZgm2yWQLmEkfm2oMnJxX7mn0Iztm1uj1KeCG-xpwZr4bNPVFb1RdN6LoUdPYXUDcG-hO5/s1600/DSC05976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="515" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyphenhyphenvtJDdCGGm_a7bli1lIJI4_rLV_GM9PbvxjxfyKM6TiQrfMNN3w1tOQASZLH8CW59lW274eZgm2yWQLmEkfm2oMnJxX7mn0Iztm1uj1KeCG-xpwZr4bNPVFb1RdN6LoUdPYXUDcG-hO5/s640/DSC05976.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Labeling, labeling labeling</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj52QRGJEZVIAoomTUQzS19Z34BPHs-La2ANNYE7HYHr0ZGuH1rDGSkV6EOwxieOObvOoioWT-q_mwQUXfvUEDrS_B1srvQpoox_TatDWEdTG80YYlHJIjvwEDXX9aXcfRiySCCbvsRZw4O/s1600/DSC05987.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj52QRGJEZVIAoomTUQzS19Z34BPHs-La2ANNYE7HYHr0ZGuH1rDGSkV6EOwxieOObvOoioWT-q_mwQUXfvUEDrS_B1srvQpoox_TatDWEdTG80YYlHJIjvwEDXX9aXcfRiySCCbvsRZw4O/s640/DSC05987.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Labeling, labeling, labeling...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPI-ohbLJM5WXimrmGk3N8RgZhEgXGpEehS8Z6UrmcoW-a1-O7X4NktIXGEYx9sosPUycgn3rAyj-Jeub3BNVSz3NdzkE-4bt2TwLKtN4WivxsCa5x5G3WQd1Gplypx4uwbCzetNtm3Vt8/s1600/DSC06064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPI-ohbLJM5WXimrmGk3N8RgZhEgXGpEehS8Z6UrmcoW-a1-O7X4NktIXGEYx9sosPUycgn3rAyj-Jeub3BNVSz3NdzkE-4bt2TwLKtN4WivxsCa5x5G3WQd1Gplypx4uwbCzetNtm3Vt8/s640/DSC06064.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished product! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-76660188156341043682013-11-06T23:15:00.002-08:002013-11-21T23:35:26.334-08:00Bad signs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
These are poorly written signs that I have seen in Ethiopia. I hope they make you laugh as much as they did me. (This blog idea was taken from my friend <a href="http://peru-tiful.blogspot.com/2013_07_01_archive.html" target="_blank">Stasia</a>, who is serving in Peru.)<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibrFXkU5B41AWtZrXRwFwkgoCJILn5QHlqmqFDNoFbRnFVQ0JESQQprN2SX_3QK0aA4Pvb08qKL539tU7OurSXIC4y3ofjVpuhViKZz5rhEMuy3zOWywwSQhnbAFlrynAIMZjolSzLqvbV/s1600/DSC06173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibrFXkU5B41AWtZrXRwFwkgoCJILn5QHlqmqFDNoFbRnFVQ0JESQQprN2SX_3QK0aA4Pvb08qKL539tU7OurSXIC4y3ofjVpuhViKZz5rhEMuy3zOWywwSQhnbAFlrynAIMZjolSzLqvbV/s640/DSC06173.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turns out this organization works on food security and tree nurseries that generate income for vulnerable women and children; an ideal work counterpart for me in my town. Unfortunately, I only recently was able to read their sign and figure out what they call themselves. There are no cognates between English and Oromiifa for "Action for basic development initiatives." This is the worst attempt I've seen for written English.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZT7rFyG8-_uG-KgyAa4NEjJp052Ik0eVLyCqEJ3AvJwwCHHqm8OeqqHw93XN4-jOyDS1AKRofLeRkFxLqHEcnaHWhYE49Lgc9meUMsFbmMxWIMHeM7dMjaNatMOD9qgHVtSY2GHaIwLIA/s1600/DSC03407.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZT7rFyG8-_uG-KgyAa4NEjJp052Ik0eVLyCqEJ3AvJwwCHHqm8OeqqHw93XN4-jOyDS1AKRofLeRkFxLqHEcnaHWhYE49Lgc9meUMsFbmMxWIMHeM7dMjaNatMOD9qgHVtSY2GHaIwLIA/s640/DSC03407.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGhpZD0K0CepJDCqpq-mHWaRHlKEMrkMyPnz-yRGfbJHsWqLCeU12ihjrheDoS37VVNJMa7_XDROkV0hWavtP93dxlCGptNzzaa_b2502joQqkB4499tgsmvPgCECjRUd_jjuz3ObUurZN/s1600/DSC03406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="547" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGhpZD0K0CepJDCqpq-mHWaRHlKEMrkMyPnz-yRGfbJHsWqLCeU12ihjrheDoS37VVNJMa7_XDROkV0hWavtP93dxlCGptNzzaa_b2502joQqkB4499tgsmvPgCECjRUd_jjuz3ObUurZN/s640/DSC03406.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I'm not much for hamburgers, but this one looks especially unappetizing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2FjqjvrrHYdHI0QB6EopT2E-KvSlyE3SjxnutBgwv9RJX7AKcvzduAnBmk9PozdaN3pIaxy8fUpFtnUA-BgOBP-b3cStQnqcCJd-hegYU6uwRRJFMdvrEwgCirnnll2apLQaCl9ZaDYOh/s1600/DSC05875.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2FjqjvrrHYdHI0QB6EopT2E-KvSlyE3SjxnutBgwv9RJX7AKcvzduAnBmk9PozdaN3pIaxy8fUpFtnUA-BgOBP-b3cStQnqcCJd-hegYU6uwRRJFMdvrEwgCirnnll2apLQaCl9ZaDYOh/s640/DSC05875.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A "perception desk" is not a bad idea.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhCWevDi-uhnmUgB2z88Db51XhSRcbBzpkNwZ6euFvpmAwuWFi28uoSpQGQLNz_VR55b-MosduDN0ItY49lSSlx8WG15X_opwPVPhDYaqgsUEdkW5shLqF4IcEOr6ioNiFPrqJV1adLFbX/s1600/DSC_0836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhCWevDi-uhnmUgB2z88Db51XhSRcbBzpkNwZ6euFvpmAwuWFi28uoSpQGQLNz_VR55b-MosduDN0ItY49lSSlx8WG15X_opwPVPhDYaqgsUEdkW5shLqF4IcEOr6ioNiFPrqJV1adLFbX/s640/DSC_0836.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4SVGj9NjaTikRLbnBJaFlR7e1rNKg0Ky_biMW5Wvrlx9mAP0FIVdcweOtK-GQMoXxYdVveWYtiV9zJ8VEOCs0nEy_TpuFNTXYkfTfHq78MwOJ-14fJ-fRSBNq1t3Rwr_LMgsNCm_Onxo/s1600/P1010510.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4SVGj9NjaTikRLbnBJaFlR7e1rNKg0Ky_biMW5Wvrlx9mAP0FIVdcweOtK-GQMoXxYdVveWYtiV9zJ8VEOCs0nEy_TpuFNTXYkfTfHq78MwOJ-14fJ-fRSBNq1t3Rwr_LMgsNCm_Onxo/s640/P1010510.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Public litter boxes would be an improvement in Ethiopia, but alas they don't actually exists.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJMpNwgGVn-2diA-z6BfYjYxqc_-q2iz2x6JJsbGbfP8j5XN2oiEtbRtOcBaW74Xp1ZbPkLJB2J_K2pQBXgrei1l3TXEIU-PDBucZB4B0y6SGM8rsDvjg1csrSfhFcIbNQ9DtmISj13Qm-/s1600/DSC06115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJMpNwgGVn-2diA-z6BfYjYxqc_-q2iz2x6JJsbGbfP8j5XN2oiEtbRtOcBaW74Xp1ZbPkLJB2J_K2pQBXgrei1l3TXEIU-PDBucZB4B0y6SGM8rsDvjg1csrSfhFcIbNQ9DtmISj13Qm-/s640/DSC06115.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birds as transportation? </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkHOSs0uoAc22PEwPYPXQoBJ4WZb_qY895cpki-qzO6kWt4rhivXBnkcGqK6iAGuHTg9YBqi4zHesyIjrEfSzCRjBORVKpEyd153IDr_0mF0c03g4EA4KHGGVlH7zwCso0GeRqGT32E6tJ/s1600/1175186_671559757094_1705488053_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkHOSs0uoAc22PEwPYPXQoBJ4WZb_qY895cpki-qzO6kWt4rhivXBnkcGqK6iAGuHTg9YBqi4zHesyIjrEfSzCRjBORVKpEyd153IDr_0mF0c03g4EA4KHGGVlH7zwCso0GeRqGT32E6tJ/s640/1175186_671559757094_1705488053_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just bad advertising. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-17462113978854916992013-11-05T07:44:00.003-08:002013-11-07T00:03:07.638-08:00Meet my neighbors: part II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
4 November 2013</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>“Peaceful Fruit”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">With a name like “Peaceful Fruit” one would find
it hard to believe that Freissalaam is so much trouble. At 3 years old he’s
asserted his dominance between the 30 meters of street in front of his house.
Few cows, sheep, goats, horses, donkeys or children go unattended to. From sun
up until sun down my little friend runs wild. Mostly it’s his mom that suffers from
his poor behavior and antics. Fortunately for Freissalaam, he’s cute...</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUIK7Ftk0413VmPAlJDASEuRfinNBljBqAGEZRYDUbGVYQpyvoNkf0qutVSFJTCqfsaHCGpNQ9MDOVr1DwaoG041003buv18Uci414sqh1AiumjYSkXoH-851X2FuWuXQLtLsHPMiEwNEw/s1600/DSC06102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUIK7Ftk0413VmPAlJDASEuRfinNBljBqAGEZRYDUbGVYQpyvoNkf0qutVSFJTCqfsaHCGpNQ9MDOVr1DwaoG041003buv18Uci414sqh1AiumjYSkXoH-851X2FuWuXQLtLsHPMiEwNEw/s400/DSC06102.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
REALLY cute!</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Along with the mosque and the Orthodox Church, Freissalaam
is one of the main reasons I wear ear plugs at night. Without them I would probably
average only 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep per night. I don’t know when
Peaceful Fruit sleeps because whenever I’m awake, I hear him. I hear him
harassing the livestock. I hear him bossing around his friends. I hear him
pretending to cry when he’s disciplined. And most of the time I hear his
mother:<br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
“<i>SALAAM, quarta mei!!” (SALAAM! Come to me)<o:p></o:p></i><br />
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is repeated about 6 times before she just hauls off on
him and starts yelling and screaming high pitch noises and chasing him down the
street; shortly thereafter I hear him crying and hitting things to vent his
frustration. From the comfort (but no peace) inside my home, I can identify all
the neighbor children by the sound of their crying and tantrums. I know each of
them for their unique build-up, their chorus, I know when it’s fake and when
it’s real and I know their mother’s response. It is like musical theater, one
that would never sell tickets or gather a gratifying audience.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2KdDZNIofpH72hW6fw7Rm6lIQkm3b7n_oyUPP84B8QT7ox32yCDaFy2MxE4xTx8QT7QM-zBIfsu2uZfZ0FXrLD4lWtq4CFK0HjPgUO7FAkTe7r9TPiIupWEZGjr6ellbkYzvvVLR584C_/s1600/DSC06043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2KdDZNIofpH72hW6fw7Rm6lIQkm3b7n_oyUPP84B8QT7ox32yCDaFy2MxE4xTx8QT7QM-zBIfsu2uZfZ0FXrLD4lWtq4CFK0HjPgUO7FAkTe7r9TPiIupWEZGjr6ellbkYzvvVLR584C_/s400/DSC06043.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking cool in Amanda's sunglasses</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My favorite part of having all these noisy, needy children
as my neighbors is not their cacophony of cries, or that they’re always sticky,
snotty and pooping in the middle of the road, my favorite part of all these
kiddos is how sweet they are to me. As soon as I leave my compound, no matter
how discrete I try to be, I am quickly spotted. <br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3HJxQlbY3x580pkY0YuaMF3LW_0aDzZpE4lOJc3Iddg4V69XfNhuCFH5F6Gq86BNxVIepnusLJkd-yhM-ZozmQDnzRqC5mJVledmOvrpVCZXPe2hvhJiVjBHopRwvBPbC3WKxns4mfPxh/s400/DSC06062.JPG" width="300" /></div>
“<i>B!!” </i>Shouts the first witness, then like a
stampede of clumsy puppies they come running towards my kneecaps. In a
remarkably short amount of time I am surrounded, as if trapped in quicksand, I
lose mobility, I feel trapped. The more I resist the tighter they squeeze. At
least once a week they share fleas with me, but as a lonely foreigner who
doesn’t receive much affection, I dismiss any concerns about flea bites and hug
them back, rubbing their small backs, tickling their necks and scratching their
rough and untidy hair. Their giggles and lingering embrace lets me know that
they appreciate the extra affection too. We finish our group huddle with some
fist-bombs, bumping our knuckles together when I command them with “<i>gitch</i>!” which means fist. Many of the
children will kiss their knuckles after they pull them away from mine and tap
their chest. This is a version of street slang and hoodlums that I can hang
with.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ-5OyrGbU7jD-LT4JX8n4NPkHBL5NybhlnbMUT6C6iLiIcT4spBgpRo4Wi4G0SBS4rZAsULn4octtegEg6b0FuRnc-c2eN5gLfxnk1NmZR_oKJCrFiJ5u95TFhN7fYZF78y1IE63bi7Tf/s1600/DSC06040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ-5OyrGbU7jD-LT4JX8n4NPkHBL5NybhlnbMUT6C6iLiIcT4spBgpRo4Wi4G0SBS4rZAsULn4octtegEg6b0FuRnc-c2eN5gLfxnk1NmZR_oKJCrFiJ5u95TFhN7fYZF78y1IE63bi7Tf/s640/DSC06040.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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</div>
The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-3151354782754584092013-10-22T06:29:00.003-07:002013-10-22T06:29:47.504-07:00Awkward encounters<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
22 October 2013</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
On my way to a nearby town I sat next to a man who began to berate me
with all the common questions Ethiopians ask foreigners: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>“Where are you go?”</i> “<i>Where do you live?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 4in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i>“Can you speak Amharic?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 1in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i>“What is your job?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 2in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i>“Can you help me immigrate to your country?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i>“How is
Ethiopia?” <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 1.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i>“Which language is better Amharic or
Oromiifa?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 1.5in; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Finally it
came to my marital status because he noticed I wear a gold band on my left
hand. I spoke my standard lies: “<i>Yes, I
am married. He is not an Ethiopian. He lives in America. He has a job.</i>”
Then we moved into more linguistically complicated territory: </div>
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<i>“Do you have children?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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I have enough language skills to say “<i>no</i>” or “<i>I am too young”</i>
but because I like to subtly confuse and upset Ethiopians from time to time I sometimes
enjoy lying to these annoying and intimate questions. Most of the time I say “I<i> don’t want children. They are dirty,
expensive and they cry too much.”</i> This normally is a sufficient answer
because the interrogator is so dumbfounded they can’t continue the
conversation. However, this stranger with 20 questions sitting next to me was
not put-off. “<i>Do you and your husband have
sex anyway?” “What’s the point of being married if you’re not going to have
children?</i>” The questions went on and on until I finally said “<i>Actually, I wouldn’t mind having children,
but my health is not good and to tell you the truth, I’m barren</i>.” I looked
down at my stomach and touched it softly as I let the words sink into his
brain. When I looked up again he said “<i>okkkaayy…”</i>
as he diverted his eyes and let the tidal wave of awkwardness hit him. Like a
magical spell, my over-curious bus mate got quiet and the conversation was
over. Why didn’t I think of this brilliant line 24 months ago? </div>
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It doesn’t take much time before the coin changes sides in
Ethiopia and the revenge of the awkward silence found me when I least expected
it. Today, I was shopping at the small corner stores around my house buying
ingredients to make banana bread. As I waited for my neighbor to collect eggs a
crazy man came up and asked me to buy him cigarettes. I ignored him but he
lingered there as I stood, unable to leave, waiting for my eggs. I held my bag
tightly, checked that my phone was secure in my pocket and prepared myself for
anything. Then <span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">BAM!</span> Without
any sudden movements his pants fell down! He stood there motionless and un-phased,
though he must have felt some draft of cool air. I turned quickly and faced the
fence as I tried to pass time by calculating the days until I get to move out
of my town.</div>
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The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-17904815233339725182013-10-22T06:28:00.002-07:002013-10-22T06:28:26.910-07:00Justice in Adaba<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Last week during market day there was a big commotion on the
main road of Adaba. Typically that is where all the excitement happens as we
only have 1 asphalt road which makes it a near constant and chaotic scene of
loitering, traffic, horse taxis and young boys selling roasted barley, sugar
cane, lottery tickets and shoe shines. I avoid the main road as much as
possible unless I’m riding my bike which makes me faster and therefore
difficult target for getting involved in nonsense which usually consists of
thrown rocks, sexual harassment and awkward conversations. Never the less, I don’t
need to be hanging out on the road to hear about what happens there. In a town
as small as Adaba, word travels fast. </div>
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As the story goes, an Isuzu truck was parked on the side of
the road, the driver was waiting in the cab. In an act of anger, a high school
student threw a rock through the side window of the truck. This student was did
not fit the stereotype of Adaba’s best trouble makers: a young and attractive
female Muslim girl. It became aware to the local police that it wasn’t a random
act, but that this young woman and the driver knew each other. At the police
station authorities tried to determine who would pay for the broken window.
They first asked the perpetrator to explain herself. She elucidated that this driver had been
involved with her, but recently she discovered that he had a wife and children
at home. Irate at his deception and ego she took her first opportunity to seek
revenge and publicly expose his shameful character. The police asked the man if
her accusations against him were honest and he confessed that it was true. It
was determined then that the man was at fault for the broken window and would
pay for replacement as he provoked the young woman to throw the rock. </div>
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As for the young woman, I think she should get a status
a-kin to that of Rosa Parks in Adaba. Hopefully the <i>duriye</i> (good for nothing) driver gets worse treatment from his wife
at home. </div>
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The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-34872114550374879622013-10-19T23:44:00.002-07:002013-10-19T23:46:07.889-07:00Born Free<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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11 October 2013</div>
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During a visit home-stay family we took an excursion to the
<a href="http://www.bornfree.org.uk/campaigns/wildlife-rescue-centres/ethiopia/" target="_blank">Born Free foundation</a> just outside of Menagesha. When I lived there people would
tell me “there are lions here” as they pointed off to some obscure point in the
forest. I brushed them off, thinking they were re-telling fables, exaggerating
or mistranslated “lion” for a smaller wild feline (People often tell me about
the “tigers” in Bale, yet there are no tigers in Africa. I think they mean to
say leopard, but don’t know the difference). My friend Millian, <a href="http://millyethiopiatour-net.webs.com/" target="_blank">a popular tourguide</a>, works part time there and offered to show us the animal rehabilitation
center. </div>
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Born Free is an organization which rescues and rehabilitates
animals that have been taken from the wild as pets. The end goal is to
re-release them into the wild again if no injury or development issues prevent
it. I was struck by how serene and beautiful the compound was. I feared it
would seem like a zoo, but instead it was all natural vegetation with no
concrete. The confinements were spread apart from one another and the animals
were given abundant space in their areas. The walk in between animal habitats
was a short hike through brush and trees where Millian identified different
birds, rodents and the tortoises who languidly munched away.</div>
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Most of the animals were taken from Jijiga, the capital of Ethiopia's eastern Somalie region. This area has a lot of wild animals being taken as pets because it is close to the D'jibouti/Somalie border where they are taken across the Red Sea. The animals are frequently sold to wealthy Arabs in the Middle East. Most commonly this is the case with Cheetahs, who I learned are not that aggressive, but rather sweet, enormous house cats. As Millian was telling us how this group of cheetahs were discovered, he reached his hand into the fencing where two male cheetahs walked towards him and began purring as he scratched their ears. I asked if I could also try my luck at making a cheetah purr, and he winced explaining that since they aren't familiar with me it might not be very safe. I have never seen cheetahs so closely, and even as an animal enthusiast I have never fully appreciated, until now, how gorgeous they are. If I were wealthy and without better ethics I would also be tempted to own a cheetahs as a house cat. </div>
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We also saw 5 Abyssinian lions. Most of who will not be able to return to the wild due to the harm done from their previous owners.</div>
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One lion had striking blue eyes which I learned had been the result of nerve damage from a too-tight collar which the owners were afraid to adjust as the animals grew from a cub to an adult. The two mature males showed their stunning black manes, a unique feature of the Abyssinia lion found only in Ethiopia. Previously the original name for Ethiopia was Abyssinia, named after this rare sub-species. These lions are a national symbol known as the Lion of Judah, made most famous by Emperor Haile Sellassie and henceforth the Rastafarian community. Like the Cheetahs, I was struck by the beauty of these creatures, but refrained from sticking my hand into the fence to see if I could make them purr.</div>
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Born Free works throughout Ethiopia to control animal trafficking and also to support the <a href="http://www.bornfree.org.uk/campaigns/wolves/wolfinaction/ewcp/" target="_blank">Ethiopian Wolf Conservation Project</a>. The day at their animal sanctuary was eye opening to see the commitment the organization is making to improve conservation of these precious African creatures.</div>
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The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-47019881008239612122013-10-17T07:08:00.002-07:002013-10-17T07:08:43.135-07:00Anchi! Wadishalo<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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11 October 2013</div>
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In 7 weeks I will complete my service as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Ethiopia. For 22 of these months I have lived alone traversed through language and cultural obstacles. Without my amazing home-stay family, who I lived with the first 10 weeks in country, these obstacles would have been more difficult to clear. Several times through my service I’ve returned to visit them. I’ve noticed my parents make career advancements; both have traveled to South Africa to represent Ethiopia in international medical conventions. My 11 year old sister has transferred to a more rigorous school which she commutes alone to each day on a public bus into Addis Ababa. When I first arrived her English was very basic, but she now speaks easily and with great confidence. My 22 year old brother who had only started college is now a junior engineering student at the military school. My aunt finished her master’s degree this summer after several years of working full time and attending classes. I am extremely proud to see them each have their individual successes which make the family a stronger unit. They are an upstanding and hard working family who represent the best of Ethiopian cultural and the country’s potential.</div>
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Unfortunately, not all change has been good. The beloved family dog Jack, who was a favorite friend of mine during those first few months, was eaten by a pack of hyenas last year. More recently my uncle passed away due to alcohol related illnesses earlier this spring. May they both rest in peace.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYQJe2AIPbEFq_q1Yjm3EaGXWIUjlCRoNZGbhHwnC4jKAH1sil0lJEKCBd7K927Uxg2nPKkeuykECm-54IiWxbYkg4hOUh1pSl_oqWTjBX0IF3-4oeO8t19XWozl681o4KQSu-FXUGbFfm/s1600/guz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYQJe2AIPbEFq_q1Yjm3EaGXWIUjlCRoNZGbhHwnC4jKAH1sil0lJEKCBd7K927Uxg2nPKkeuykECm-54IiWxbYkg4hOUh1pSl_oqWTjBX0IF3-4oeO8t19XWozl681o4KQSu-FXUGbFfm/s1600/guz.jpg" /></a> Though the time I’ve spent here has seemed quick, I consider all of these changes and realize how significant 2 years are. No single individual has proved this more than my beloved home-stay sister Guza-guz. Also known to me as the most adorable child alive!</div>
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<v:shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f"><v:stroke joinstyle="miter"><v:formulas><v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"><v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"><v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"><v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"><v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"><v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"><v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"><v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"><v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"><v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"><v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"><v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:formulas><v:path gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect" o:extrusionok="f"><o:lock aspectratio="t" v:ext="edit"></o:lock></v:path></v:stroke></v:shapetype><v:shape alt="DSCN5142.JPG" id="Picture_x0020_2" o:spid="_x0000_s1027" style="height: 158pt; margin-left: 1.35pt; margin-top: -6.45pt; position: absolute; visibility: visible; width: 119.35pt; z-index: -1;" type="#_x0000_t75" wrapcoords="25419 18982 25419 2871 -3330 2871 -3330 18982 25419 18982"><v:imagedata o:title="DSCN5142" src="file:///C:\Users\BRIDGE~1\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.jpg"><w:wrap type="tight"></w:wrap></v:imagedata></v:shape>When I moved into my home-stay family’s house Guz was only 8 months old. She spent most of her days </div>
wrapped tightly against her mother’s broad back asleep to the laundry, cooking and sweeping that kept her mother busy all day. By the time I left the house her first 4 teeth had arrived, only adding more charm to her smile. I returned 4 months later at Easter to a toddler who was crawling busily and had doubled her pearly whites. The next visit, 6 months later she was mobile and alert! Instead of being swaddled, she spent most of her time she spent walking, dancing and feeding me food helpings (a cultural practice called “gorsha”) from her small palms. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgMvG01OF2mS3kftbdK9DJNb9E5cgnBcISaFgDvs_zF_RV9IEneNnaZ93V-t4dP08VMmoCGWuBOa71AX9_auO0BZ0-JhurdzjmTkpqAAdnGokfNB94B1PAqv_b2EoDHhdgk3VP-Skx0by3/s1600/DSCN4579.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgMvG01OF2mS3kftbdK9DJNb9E5cgnBcISaFgDvs_zF_RV9IEneNnaZ93V-t4dP08VMmoCGWuBOa71AX9_auO0BZ0-JhurdzjmTkpqAAdnGokfNB94B1PAqv_b2EoDHhdgk3VP-Skx0by3/s320/DSCN4579.JPG" width="240" /></a>Another long stretched passed without much contact between me and my family until one holiday when I called to catch up. As the phone was passed between each family member we shared greetings until it was finally given to Guza-guz who said<br />
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“<i>salam nesh Brijet? Wadishalo anchi</i>”</div>
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(“How are you Bridget? I love you!”)</div>
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I was silent in dumbstruck disbelief and I felt my heart soften and ache with guilt that I could be absent from her long enough to let her grow up so suddenly. She was talking in sentences! Saying <i>my</i> name! Professing her love for me! I ended the call with promises to see it all for myself in a short time and soon enough I was reunited again with my sweet family and my favorite baby. We spent the weekend dancing, cuddling, napping and chasing each other. I have spent more hours holding her and observing her development more than any other infant in my lifetime. Maybe I should blame my age on my growing maternal side. Maybe it’s simply that this girl is so charming that anyone with a pulse would feel as enamored as I do. No matter the rationality, to put it plain and simple I am in love with this sweet child, even if her nick name Guza-guz unfortunately means “diaper”.</div>
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<v:shape alt="cutie.jpg" id="Picture_x0020_0" o:spid="_x0000_s1026" style="height: 193.55pt; margin-left: 314.7pt; margin-top: -75.05pt; position: absolute; visibility: visible; width: 144.35pt; z-index: -2;" type="#_x0000_t75" wrapcoords="-224 0 -224 21427 21548 21427 21548 0 -224 0"><v:imagedata o:title="cutie" src="file:///C:\Users\BRIDGE~1\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image002.jpg"><w:wrap type="tight"></w:wrap></v:imagedata></v:shape>Easily I can recall the first week I arrived in Ethiopia, Peace Corps held a panel discussion for my group with more experienced PC volunteers where we could voice our concerns. Many people were worried about language acquisition (worldwide, Amharic is the most difficult language PC volunteers are trained in). In response to our trepidation one volunteer plainly stated “By the time you finish your service in PC Ethiopia you could have conceived a child, given birth to it and taught it to speak. You’re already grown adults, so all you have to do in two years is learn to speak the language.” I remember the silence in the room as we all realized the simple, yet astounding truth of his statement. Low and behold, Guza-guz and I have both acquired sufficient language skills in the last two years. Though our Amharic and Oromiifa vocabularies are more robust than when I arrived 24 months ago, the most profound message we’ve always shared is between our smiles. </div>
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The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-84013128296986224062013-09-24T08:09:00.001-07:002013-09-24T08:09:18.524-07:00Meet my Neighbors: Part I<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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23 July 2013</div>
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This morning, like most, my neighbor Marie, age 3, is
crying.</div>
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It is 9am and her beloved sister
Nani left for school 45 minutes ago. Marie adores her sister and cries when she
goes to school every morning & when she leaves after lunch in the
afternoon. “My Nani!!!” She wails as if her sister has been taken away never to
be seen again. In fact Nani will return home in a few hours, as she does every
day. Marie does not seem to notice or find comfort in this pattern. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHhEXjAb1OEMuQKZHwrRXDzofYe0DSW1dhRyiIJC95cHOez0bdFTB3wPuqneSQU4nGCZX031ZGaElHESYzo7AxpiGVPQQLFsda1mkP_AyErS5ldaF8OrTdccxT83eG1hP1eDWJD66Ge2dg/s1600/nani.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHhEXjAb1OEMuQKZHwrRXDzofYe0DSW1dhRyiIJC95cHOez0bdFTB3wPuqneSQU4nGCZX031ZGaElHESYzo7AxpiGVPQQLFsda1mkP_AyErS5ldaF8OrTdccxT83eG1hP1eDWJD66Ge2dg/s320/nani.jpg" width="172" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nani is very fashionable. Her shoes<br /> are wearing sunglasses and wings. </td></tr>
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To be fair Marie’s sister Nani is
pretty great. She’s a charismatic leader and natural attention hog. </div>
Nani is
adorable. Unlike most kids in my town, Nani’s parents keep her clean and well
dressed. Frequently she gets her hair done at the salon; weave is braided into
her baby hair making it longer with large bouncy curls. It’s sort of an absurd effort
since Nani is only 5 years old, but at 5 I was sporting a bowl cut so what do I
know.<br />
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Several times I’ve caught Nani
standing on an overturned carton singing like a pop music sensation to a small
audience of neighborhood babies under her age. They children stand mesmerized
as Nani shakes her finger and hits all the wrong notes. I blame these kids’
young age for their impressionability, but as I attempt to be discrete peering
through the wooden fence I find myself just as guilty for enjoying her
performance.</div>
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Every
time I go outside Nani and Marie call out “B” repeatedly to </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nani peeking through the fence.</td></tr>
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catch my attention
as they sit behind the rickety scrap wood that constitutes the fence between
our homes. I say “hello”, wave and look their way, but the girls persist as
they started without acknowledging I’ve responded at all. “B, B, B, B” It’s a
sweet sentiment but after nearly 2 years I’m short on patience. For all their bravado
I find it surprising that outside of their home compound neither of the girls
will talk to me. I see them at the neighbors’ get-togethers, at the market, in
the street or at school and they are both too shy to utter anything or even make
eye contact. All the other neighborhood
kids give me hugs and fist bumps when I am in the street except these two. <br />
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The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-54974031140433820842013-09-24T08:00:00.005-07:002013-09-28T06:28:53.241-07:00Badee<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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23 September 2013</div>
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Loomi disappeared 3 months ago. For a few days I was out of
town and when I returned to my compound my stomach told me something had
happened in my absence. Everyone was normal, quiet and calm, but Loomii didn’t
appear at my window or at the spicket to fetch water. I was afraid to know the
truth, so I gave it a day of denial before I began inquiring. I went back to
her house and called her name, nothing. I found other people on my compound and
ask what happened. Their Amharic was dumbed down for me as it was explained “she’s
gone, but she will return.” Why?! I couldn’t get the information I needed to
understand the severity of the situation. Where did Loomii go and why? Later
that morning one of my English speaking neighbors came home so I began to
interrogate him. To my horror I had learned that there was an incident which
resulted in Loomii being returned to her family nearly 150km away. </div>
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It took a long time and different narratives to piece
together enough details to construct a coherent story. Many people tried to protect
me by not telling me the upsetting truth. They told me bits and pieces, but
spent more time assuring me that it was okay and she would return. Ethiopian’s
don’t like to upset or distress others. They keep a constant calm demeanor of
happiness from morning to evening (unless they are in a bus station, then all
bets are off). As a foreigner, they are very unnerved by my emotional side and
avoid instigating it at all costs. Not because I’m a sociopath, but because
they don’t understand people being emotional outside of wailing at a funeral or
fighting for a seat on a bus.</div>
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The story goes loosely like this: Loomii’s uncle, her
primary care taker, is Muslim, but everyone else she interacts with in Adaba is
Christian, either Orthodox or Protestant. She has Christian leanings because
she isn’t exposed to much else on a daily basis. In Ethiopia however, to stray
from your assigned faith is an enormous act of treason. At 9 years old Loomii
doesn’t understand this, she just wants to be normal and enjoy as her peers do.
One afternoon Loomii snuck off to the church with her school friend. She didn’t
ask for permission or tell anyone that she was leaving. She returned to her irate
and belligerent uncle who beat her and took her back to her parents the
following day as punishment. </div>
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Loomii’s parents live in a remote village outside of a very
rural town. There is not a school within a reasonable walking distance from
their home; there are not enough basic resources for them to support her.
Despite this level of insecurity, her family continues to grow; she is the
second oldest of 4 and more siblings are likely to come. Loomii was returned to
her family and they sent her oldest brother (11 years) and 2<sup>nd</sup>
youngest brother (4 years) to Adaba to replace Loomii. Loomii’s older brother
took her place cooking and cleaning for their uncle in Adaba while the youngest
spent his days in a homesick-induced daze.</div>
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I approached many people to help me resolve this issue of
Loomii’s exile and her unreasonable uncle. It all seemed like an over-produced
Disney movie script without the assurance of a fairy godmother or a magical
prince to remove her violent uncle. Everyone sympathized with my distress. They
agreed that Loomii’s uncle had disturbing behavior but his age classified him
as an elder, meaning he is to be respected and left unchallenged by all who are
younger. If I were to approach him it could make things worse for Loomii
if/when she returned. I spoke to my landlord who permits her uncle to live on
his land and who has known him for 30+ years. He agreed to speak with her uncle
and demand that Loomii return. So I waited, unable to do more than sit on my
hands and keep quiet. Every week I was told she would return in 2 weeks, until
one day I was told she would arrive the following day. </div>
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For selfish reasons I wanted Loomii back in Adaba. She has
many friends who look over her here, she has enough to eat, a good school to
attend and she seems happy most of the time. Her uncle is dangerous but she seems
capable at delicately walking on eggshells and avoiding trouble. In her home
village she can’t go to school, she doesn’t get enough to eat and I worry that
she is more vulnerable to harmful cultural practices (FGM, abduction, early
marriage, or painful body modifications). Both options are risky, but at least
she has options. Loomii’s story doesn’t instigate much sympathy or label her as
unusual among Ethiopians. Most kids are disciplined by physical violence at
home and at school, many are separated from their families who cannot provide
for them, many are kept out of school to work and support their families at a
young age. Surprisingly Loomii, compared to some of her peers, has many privileges.</div>
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Loomii did return to Adaba. My neighbors told me of her
arrival one rainy afternoon as I arrived home. Elated, I ran to her house, slipping
through the mud calling her name eagerly. She came to the doorway with a quiet
smile, apprehensive to step out in the rain and mud. I picked her up and hugged
her as we became drenched in rain and sentiment. Loomii was a bit embarrassed by
my enthusiastic display as her uncle had visitors who sat starring at us. To
avoid causing any trouble for her, I set her down and asked her to come to my
house later that day. When she arrived later we celebrated by playing games
with Joe and my friend Ibse and went out on the town with her school director
for dinner and coffee. I seemed more shaken by it all than she was. She seemed
normal, albeit a little taller, thinner and with newly pierced ears. She told me
stories about her family and seemed un-traumatized by the summer’s events. </div>
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Through this many people have told me that I should adopt
Loomi, an option I have given much consideration to. They reminded me that I
seemed to be concerned for her more than anyone else and I’m a privileged American
who can provide for her easily in my country, <i>why don’t I take her</i>? While this may be true I have some questions
that no one here can seem to answer: <i>WHY
am I the one who cares about her more than anyone else</i>, though I’ve known
her for less time and can communicate with her the least? <i>WHY is it culturally uncommon for Ethiopians to adopt children outside
their family</i>, but encouraged for foreigners who cannot adequately speak or understand
the child’s native culture or language? <i>Why
do I feel more guilt and responsibility for this young girl than those who have
known her longer and more intimately than I?</i> I suppose the only answer to
these questions is “cultural values and differences”. </div>
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It may afflict me the rest of my life but I do not plan on
adopting Loomii. As someone who is still financially depend on her own family, I
am not prepared to accept responsibility for a minor nor am I in the position
to pay tens of thousands of dollars to complete a successful adoption. I’ve
lived in Ethiopia for 2 years, and understand not everything but enough to know
that Loomii’s situation is manageable. She’s doing well in school, she’s accustomed
to her own culture and meets friends who love and look after her everywhere she
goes. I cannot protect Loomii from everything or ensure that she has all of her
needs met, but I believe that she is in the position to grow up and do well for
herself. While I have lived here I have tried to take actions to improve her
situation and feel confident that she is generally happy and will continue her
education at least until 8<sup>th</sup> grade. This is more than most Ethiopian
children can hope for.</div>
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I also realize that like many experiences I’ve had in Ethiopia,
none of this seems like reasonable logic to my acquaintances in the United
States. I’ve run out of excuses to mask the complacency and helplessness I feel
for Ethiopia’s disturbing customs. I’ve run out of the naivete<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;"> </span>that everything
will work out well in the end. </div>
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The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-76071639166495051652013-07-26T07:02:00.002-07:002013-07-26T07:02:22.924-07:00Fuel efficient stove coop in action!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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24 July 2013</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Filling the molds with cement which is pounded down for compaction</td></tr>
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Last year I was approached by a representative of a local
women’s cooperative who wanted training to learn how to produce fuel efficient
stoves. It’s a desirable technology in Ethiopia as traditional 3-stone fires consume
a lot of fuel wood leaving Ethiopia at its present state of having lost nearly
90% of natural forest coverage. Additionally, these traditional fires produce a
lot of smoke leading to pulmonary issues in women in children; this is common
in Africa and is the 2<sup>nd</sup> largest cause for mortality next to
Malaria. Fuel efficient stoves reduce and redirect smoke, use less wood which
saves families time and money. </div>
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The coop organized themselves by writing a business plan and
formalizing themselves through the regional cooperative office. Meanwhile, I
wrote a grant to some local NGO’s: FARM Africa and Frankfurt Zoological Society
(FZS) who partnered with us to purchase our raw materials and provide us training.
Our fuel stove training was done by FZS who brought 3 experienced women from
Dinsho town.. Everyone was consistently punctual and worked really steadily.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our advertisement in 3 different languages</td></tr>
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The coop has 20 members: all women who are unemployed
between the ages of 40-70, half of who are illiterate, all mothers with
demanding families to feed, clothe and care for. I didn’t know what to expect
with this group and I’ll admit I wasn’t initially eager to work with them because
I was concerned they wouldn’t appreciate the reality of the opportunity as much
as the concept (which I’ve seen with so many other people who approach me about
collaborating on projects). My trepidation was quickly dismissed the first day
when all women were present and punctual and continued to work 6 hours a day
for the next 3 days until we finished. At the end we gave them per-diem for
their work and they said they didn’t need to be paid for </div>
learning this skill,
so they decided to each donated 60% of their payment to the coop to build
capital. My head was spinning I couldn’t believe how motivated and clever these
women are! Our next step is to continue purchasing our supplies, build a
workshop for our production and hold demonstrations at the weekly market to
advertise our product. We’re on the way to something great!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigbMUg1TncS8rExUBe_MEgH_8v6L6XE8nAaFCBcKlEju-5daI68UT-24f6YhgWYhqEMDyTHpkuhY8brbiAEIDw1q7LqJZZJo0KtxkfEirzllDpU1i3UtgLneVg3gSihCcsREYhbhjgbip5/s1600/DSC05726.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigbMUg1TncS8rExUBe_MEgH_8v6L6XE8nAaFCBcKlEju-5daI68UT-24f6YhgWYhqEMDyTHpkuhY8brbiAEIDw1q7LqJZZJo0KtxkfEirzllDpU1i3UtgLneVg3gSihCcsREYhbhjgbip5/s400/DSC05726.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This part diverts the smoke by acting as a chimney (see the advertisement photo)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCRlk6iYL28Y2wdkP88P1HzSSh1KJFOjH1VttaviVnEv99YptsoKjoBuNIsrjhtDye8xhQB194WQy_s-O7-2D9-TUOLw1AutDk4YtQX6yvqjuVzPUfp_EdedR85V392CGr_UBwmdEcXpuB/s1600/DSC05727.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCRlk6iYL28Y2wdkP88P1HzSSh1KJFOjH1VttaviVnEv99YptsoKjoBuNIsrjhtDye8xhQB194WQy_s-O7-2D9-TUOLw1AutDk4YtQX6yvqjuVzPUfp_EdedR85V392CGr_UBwmdEcXpuB/s400/DSC05727.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4 of these parts make up the main wall around the fire</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEill2KCxktydts40gV4pRQNIXaOO6GIBmpDMsC2VJFWMvUAvcpR66eQX46qg6DrC1HyWpMQtSMbk5qWEWZVHPlL_0jJXSEB20pqvBxhqcMekjzIw_syRReHrMdZDVe9mIXeKctbzimOv6kV/s1600/DSC05731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="351" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEill2KCxktydts40gV4pRQNIXaOO6GIBmpDMsC2VJFWMvUAvcpR66eQX46qg6DrC1HyWpMQtSMbk5qWEWZVHPlL_0jJXSEB20pqvBxhqcMekjzIw_syRReHrMdZDVe9mIXeKctbzimOv6kV/s400/DSC05731.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hauling the cement from the mixing area</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCYAcJx3tTV9c7ECNNo2jRMjMC38G_1H1XR0i_skQ2RCAx4w8s8bFK12Z3tOP_RwN8zZ0Lbks-wRUc_S58ti6CjutAvb-npARZBseMasvlkWoiq1iIxxwetQrNWKxnLC5zjal9uKk1JP3R/s1600/DSC05741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCYAcJx3tTV9c7ECNNo2jRMjMC38G_1H1XR0i_skQ2RCAx4w8s8bFK12Z3tOP_RwN8zZ0Lbks-wRUc_S58ti6CjutAvb-npARZBseMasvlkWoiq1iIxxwetQrNWKxnLC5zjal9uKk1JP3R/s400/DSC05741.JPG" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikEaEd1WoBHv_o7RDIMg49_42XNSlUrfwGUnjdydN0lnv6WnGDDB3kKoCBukQ1kCiylpAGXjEOoOWmDRqFG8-WSjJjzc60nPDX3vCY1NW9vzV5FRjG2gyO1eyZbzvLSDJemsujcoA_hfc2/s1600/DSC05760.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikEaEd1WoBHv_o7RDIMg49_42XNSlUrfwGUnjdydN0lnv6WnGDDB3kKoCBukQ1kCiylpAGXjEOoOWmDRqFG8-WSjJjzc60nPDX3vCY1NW9vzV5FRjG2gyO1eyZbzvLSDJemsujcoA_hfc2/s400/DSC05760.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1 of the walls waiting to dry after the mold is removed.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZ5324PnttLGUzwXsVx5mRinBTXIWUgC7_mrssoAnmYhCND0npAN7gIi2og0fAH0WptQtJPdDB8JLvAlvccjTHvSc9op52aXQcSxpUItWJLtLsJE0StqeXVznOTYm_MozFcwYD4eAC_Ez/s1600/DSC05787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZ5324PnttLGUzwXsVx5mRinBTXIWUgC7_mrssoAnmYhCND0npAN7gIi2og0fAH0WptQtJPdDB8JLvAlvccjTHvSc9op52aXQcSxpUItWJLtLsJE0StqeXVznOTYm_MozFcwYD4eAC_Ez/s400/DSC05787.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This piece is the final chimney to divert the smoke and is also used as a "stove burner" <br />for preparing wat and soup</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaDTej4DeEYue6FVp4mlqUY1aRbwDKBmLAp92lqxtoFpqPYBI2TbWZ9lw9l6GHxOlSCTOjhT4oioQaeFdA1EXMId9eWRQ2SLM_IbXtjBifOeUCbFf2ec1jJrXYEXSud6-4L-7BfhBArGMV/s1600/images+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaDTej4DeEYue6FVp4mlqUY1aRbwDKBmLAp92lqxtoFpqPYBI2TbWZ9lw9l6GHxOlSCTOjhT4oioQaeFdA1EXMId9eWRQ2SLM_IbXtjBifOeUCbFf2ec1jJrXYEXSud6-4L-7BfhBArGMV/s320/images+(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">traditional 3 stone fire</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9yA_smtu7-wyOmQuEnd49gdiGlNM75k3DysVLhpRnIqgSwAv33_DwYs18IPHmWPdnUC71YJGDwjefrR_nI5Zwl_fVrHcjyV1ZHMvJZH8mfYcbNOtWl-eiG2LcUJ7t638otTWso7Sgf0U_/s1600/10361_injerra+oven+insmeren+web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9yA_smtu7-wyOmQuEnd49gdiGlNM75k3DysVLhpRnIqgSwAv33_DwYs18IPHmWPdnUC71YJGDwjefrR_nI5Zwl_fVrHcjyV1ZHMvJZH8mfYcbNOtWl-eiG2LcUJ7t638otTWso7Sgf0U_/s400/10361_injerra+oven+insmeren+web.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished Mirt stove. The main fire is covered by a large clay plate <br />which is used to cook <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Injera" target="_blank">injera</a>, the main staple food of Ethiopia</td></tr>
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The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-82137274174879647762013-07-16T07:30:00.003-07:002013-07-16T07:30:49.147-07:00Camp GLOW 2013!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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17 August 2013</div>
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Last week I directed South
Oromia’s Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) which was attended by 12 Peace
Corps volunteers, 9 Ethiopian counterparts and 21 8-9<sup>th</sup> grade female
students. We selected only females of these grades because they will all be high
school students next year. High school is a difficult time for girls in
Ethiopia as their studies become more demanding so do their responsibilities
with house chores and pressures for them to get married and drop out of school also
increase. Our main focus for this week
of camp was self-confidence, good communication, HIV/AIDs and safe sex
awareness, team work, strength, goal setting and creative writing. Here are
some pictures from the week.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0YdkbTpwKoheluVTW5gYbJnmcVYmZgg9iU2fMOVOfEOQUQo6GlIpKEyCWC009F4QGUa6gZ7KCn9DGrA6J_uSIsSNaw2F5Ur37tP4JoJdjHxgdPsa7m_nuSZZ2JfhGflhA_xij_lD_FjYn/s1600/DSC05609.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0YdkbTpwKoheluVTW5gYbJnmcVYmZgg9iU2fMOVOfEOQUQo6GlIpKEyCWC009F4QGUa6gZ7KCn9DGrA6J_uSIsSNaw2F5Ur37tP4JoJdjHxgdPsa7m_nuSZZ2JfhGflhA_xij_lD_FjYn/s400/DSC05609.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Discussing how the girls define "self-esteem"</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyxR0igF2n28oVI04UBYeXJZ4ZvOtHXh6UceJZfl4fojnF3-rN4ImXFDQfzBaFFPkRKx_MUrmlLecUdNWu2D2T4_3bn6fykG07EbBDalCEwhDgBpas9Fsz5iZgHjOmwtdkHpTeoZJQlHxn/s1600/DSC05610.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyxR0igF2n28oVI04UBYeXJZ4ZvOtHXh6UceJZfl4fojnF3-rN4ImXFDQfzBaFFPkRKx_MUrmlLecUdNWu2D2T4_3bn6fykG07EbBDalCEwhDgBpas9Fsz5iZgHjOmwtdkHpTeoZJQlHxn/s400/DSC05610.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two of our amazing counselors who joined us at camp</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibll9nwCCPHhzIY5H9eOl01s0LNkf-TLwj-zXrt5ToL2PQCkqtlh4OVo5fcar5uEDuZRzGM4sKP_GjthL2FXmj-cqry6yKCcWw1cyD_4oWKDtDtDMdiR8y5c7tW0_yYHeoaGr7MzOk5rr1/s1600/DSC05612.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibll9nwCCPHhzIY5H9eOl01s0LNkf-TLwj-zXrt5ToL2PQCkqtlh4OVo5fcar5uEDuZRzGM4sKP_GjthL2FXmj-cqry6yKCcWw1cyD_4oWKDtDtDMdiR8y5c7tW0_yYHeoaGr7MzOk5rr1/s400/DSC05612.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peer pressure skit</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje2uW4iZQxOunx2Nk0sdgbRZVtWBoQiMU9wyySugQeDz6UH21Bs7gQ1rOUdJS-jeka0xJggNfrSmRio05wXV3uUSvmScN926UTNatgz2gpEmvQ9MAkG4MIaUrK-vqBk5Jj5LJ6ZXq0V2xy/s1600/DSC05616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje2uW4iZQxOunx2Nk0sdgbRZVtWBoQiMU9wyySugQeDz6UH21Bs7gQ1rOUdJS-jeka0xJggNfrSmRio05wXV3uUSvmScN926UTNatgz2gpEmvQ9MAkG4MIaUrK-vqBk5Jj5LJ6ZXq0V2xy/s400/DSC05616.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Self-esteem collages</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-PbVQQq51-hT-tavI7ouddvkc27nM3E8JZzULKnQ99NAZVKuhcZqoMdVzzbmrQDHbm70Cfr4U1yE3eSKOsfpa_n55c9PHMmNfsFIiemHebT4mxfyF8RI1i9noByodD_2D_QA7w8qfJKAm/s1600/DSC05672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-PbVQQq51-hT-tavI7ouddvkc27nM3E8JZzULKnQ99NAZVKuhcZqoMdVzzbmrQDHbm70Cfr4U1yE3eSKOsfpa_n55c9PHMmNfsFIiemHebT4mxfyF8RI1i9noByodD_2D_QA7w8qfJKAm/s400/DSC05672.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We made it to the top of the mountain!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmQNzV08jovrVgA8wJp1JhCKjobLiBqPQv3YD6vHnEnxvAYpeJHJ69pgSEFhixJt7sKdLCHgQkhwykpF9t54dUQDRWi1tE9g2SrmVEsKl47w9LX0uR-d6EAwp6TK7YYqQOJUBMgJloNed1/s1600/DSC05648.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmQNzV08jovrVgA8wJp1JhCKjobLiBqPQv3YD6vHnEnxvAYpeJHJ69pgSEFhixJt7sKdLCHgQkhwykpF9t54dUQDRWi1tE9g2SrmVEsKl47w9LX0uR-d6EAwp6TK7YYqQOJUBMgJloNed1/s400/DSC05648.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The whole camp before our hike</td></tr>
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Highlights included a hike up Mt. Gelama,
an enormous obstacle course, a professional women panel discussion, hilarious
condom demonstration (included interactive song and dance), HIV + music band
who came and performed songs and skits. On our final day we held a giant
bonfire where we had the campers throw in their “I can’t” lists they had made
earlier in the week, the act of incineration would symbolize that over the camp they had gained skills and
self-confidence so that all they had listed the first day as things they felt
were their weaknesses had since been invalidated; the fire would devour their
doubts in themselves, leaving them only with an “I CAN” attitude. I noticed one
girl didn’t throw her “I Can’t” envelope in the fire and I asked her to do so,
but she refused. I figured she was still holding on to doubts and negativity so
I started in on a big speech about how amazing she is and that she needs to
cast her self-doubts away. She replied “No, that’s not it at all” and she read
her note inside the envelope which said ‘I can do anything I set myself to’. Apparently,
some of the girls at camp didn’t need the self confidence boost as much as
others.</div>
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It was an amazing week of fun and
learning for EVERYONE, even the adult counselors who were teaching. I learned
many new dance moves, gained several fantastic friends, got my first cornrow
braids and only got thrown-up on once during the week. What a success! </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3IIvvLm6juD6q-AWwOSt81gXw9PsnKvgVUxCZ4iW68xn78oTCJCdkhjBmDvwgk8gBN4d2d36wIXWoJsxx69DqanoN2utDDGRaacbdCTeaU9i9v9KPdf056F9M_ctQuu3t9L6nEPZv4fF5/s1600/DSC05639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3IIvvLm6juD6q-AWwOSt81gXw9PsnKvgVUxCZ4iW68xn78oTCJCdkhjBmDvwgk8gBN4d2d36wIXWoJsxx69DqanoN2utDDGRaacbdCTeaU9i9v9KPdf056F9M_ctQuu3t9L6nEPZv4fF5/s320/DSC05639.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I look terrible terrible in braids but they feel so awesome.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-11908725055427844992013-07-16T07:12:00.001-07:002013-07-16T07:12:51.541-07:0024 hours of normal lunacy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Being a PCV has been more of an emotional roller coaster than I could have ever imagined. In America, or what I refer to as my "real" life, I considered myself to be a pretty stable and consistent adult. Ethiopia has brought out the scrappy 9-year old Bridget I used to be. Where I would pick fights, throw sass around and spend a lot of time in my bedroom dreaming about who I would be when I grew up. Well at 26 I didn't expect myself to become so familiar with niave and irratic inner child, but my life here has led me to discover that in order to survive living in chaos you must be insane yourself. Below is a brief documentary of a 24-hour period I experience recently. </div>
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2 June 2013</div>
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6:00 pm: Paid $9 for my 1 hour full
body massage </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Feeling</i>: calm and content</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Thinking</i>: money well spent</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
6:15: Mistook a monkey to be an
alley cat</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Feeling</i>: surprised and enchanted</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Thinking</i>: Ethiopia is still awesome</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
8:30: In the middle of an unusual
and very detailed dinner conversation of how the 7<sup>th</sup> day Adventists
started in Ethiopia 3 generations ago. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>Feeling</i>: Amused and informed </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>Thinking</i>: That pizza was delicious</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
10:00 Almost asleep except for the
neighbor’s subwoofers and the barking dog. Soft spanish guitar in my headphones
lulls me to sleep</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>Feeling</i>: too tired to yell at the
neighbor</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>Thinking</i>: I wish I could find my
earplugs</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
7:00am Got caught walking in the early morning
rainstorm and enjoyed the company of the street dogs</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>Feeling</i>: carefree and nostalgic</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>Thinking</i>: Puppy season is the best time
of year in Ethiopia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
8:00 received a long distance call from
my dad and watched Amanda serve the sassy waitress a piece of her mind (no it
was not on the menu)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>Feeling</i>: loved and homesick,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>Thinking</i>: Amanda is serious about her
breakfast!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
9:00 Paid 15% of my monthly salary to fill
my propane tank; now I have 25kg/55lbs on my back and 2 buses worth of travel
before I can get it home</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<i>Feeling</i>: Poor and apprehensive </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<i>Thinking</i>: I wish I had a private vehicle</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
10: Saw a man defecating on the
side of the road. Rejected bus creeper’s attempts to initiate me in conversation.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>Feeling</i>: violated and nauseous</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>Thinking</i>: Ethiopia’s development goals
are highly ambitious </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
11: After moving my heavy propane tank
from 4 different vehicles I’m on the last leg in Shashamene. My onerous tank become
the subject of controversy in the bus station: confusing argument in 4
different spoken languages leads to aggressive behavior in belligerent macho
men and ends with me physically assaulting the figure of contention by way of
my palm across his face. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>Feeling</i>: adrenaline and dissapointment</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>Thinking</i>: I wish I could communicate
more effective verbally than physically</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
2pm: Arrived at home in time to miss
the rainstorm and in time to enjoy a cup of coconut hot chocolate and the first
grapefruit I’ve eaten in 8 months. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>Feeling</i>: relieved, introverted,
exhausted</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>Thinking</i>: Home is the only place I can
have privacy and peace</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
4pm: Skyped with Joe and counted down
the days until his arrival</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i>Feeling:</i> Adored</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;">
<i> Thinking:</i> August 19<sup>th</sup>
can’t come soon enough</div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-19715951498013670812013-06-20T05:44:00.002-07:002013-06-20T05:44:25.048-07:00The girl who brings me flowers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
17 June 2013</div>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs_e4l35LH_WgMwMGYrGHqgqefZhHiBkYIhCBNJQcEJuGVi1SGUtPme7Hsj3xP1mGXxPeyEGz9FFaiPvbG2WEdnfEkfQbIpx0YHXdrZiM8HGB21qs7KszF0OIt6c-uveKhUCHlOBxiBGUL/s1600/DSC04026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs_e4l35LH_WgMwMGYrGHqgqefZhHiBkYIhCBNJQcEJuGVi1SGUtPme7Hsj3xP1mGXxPeyEGz9FFaiPvbG2WEdnfEkfQbIpx0YHXdrZiM8HGB21qs7KszF0OIt6c-uveKhUCHlOBxiBGUL/s320/DSC04026.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every morning I receive a visitor, a small head of braids
with big brown eyes peeps through my front window “B!” she sends out her
greeting and we run through all of her short English phrases within a minute:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Good morning Loomii. How are you?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
“Good morning. I
am fine.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Would you like a banana?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
“A yellow banana?
Yes!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I invite her inside my small home, a place that offers
refuge for her, where she can be unseen and not called to work, but instead
spend her time coloring, enjoying books, movies and dance the afternoon away.
She steps out of her broken plastic sandals and embraces me. When I first met
Loomii she didn’t know how to receive a hug. She would run to greet me, her
arms spread wide and as we met and I wrapped myself around her she would stand
there, arms limp against her stiff body, enjoying the affection but unsure of
how to return it. Now she’s a master of hugs which are a fantastic compliment
to her beautiful smile and I get plenty of both each day. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhciDGSeSNUJCNTsJQDdY1cdV4b4-Xb8TN94cNLlzoprmucn582MdNmV3tj0ZBEG1tBxClBXproIecPm2n5wdfeT0-oRO6LrVIQotRbCZ1BTpDAIjny_y_oVCt3UYMLZc9oEvusTjuR8Q3U/s1600/DSCN5274.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhciDGSeSNUJCNTsJQDdY1cdV4b4-Xb8TN94cNLlzoprmucn582MdNmV3tj0ZBEG1tBxClBXproIecPm2n5wdfeT0-oRO6LrVIQotRbCZ1BTpDAIjny_y_oVCt3UYMLZc9oEvusTjuR8Q3U/s320/DSCN5274.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I moved into my house I noticed Loomii immediately
because she was always fetching water from the spout outside my door. Where did
she live? Who did she live with? Eventually I learned that she lived on my
compound in a small shack out back, but I saw no family that cared for her as
made evident by her perpetually filthy clothes and independence. After
inquiring to the people who share my compound I learned that Loomii moved to
Adaba 3-4 years ago, when she was around 6 or 7 years old. Her parents and
siblings reside in Kokoso, a small village about a 4 hour drive away. She moved
to Adaba to help her old petulant uncle with house chores as he never married
and has no immediately family. For Loomii’s parents, giving her away was
financially a smart decision as they could not afford to send her to school and
provide for her other essential needs. At 6 years old, Loomii moved out of her family’s
home and into a world adult hood. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In Adaba she began going to Catholic school, which offers
free tuition for many students. After school Loomii would come home to help
wash, cook, run errands and clean for people on the compound. An Ethiopian version
of Cinderella. She quickly learned her second language, Amharic, as her mother
tongue Oromiifa, was not spoken by many people she interacted with. She
adapted, matured and made the most of life without her family.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUESq0ahpd8H-DwdJH0WhBvNdn9zB5x69Nzcw67eR434aGlrf8CCUpTB_KZSgW-TDINHGf6o80BYnA4yx0NDNS_fC36VK72NBAdNXxHQgfclhXwGC0v2D-yAovp9fxPjYVIS219KCWyIQ2/s1600/DSC04061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUESq0ahpd8H-DwdJH0WhBvNdn9zB5x69Nzcw67eR434aGlrf8CCUpTB_KZSgW-TDINHGf6o80BYnA4yx0NDNS_fC36VK72NBAdNXxHQgfclhXwGC0v2D-yAovp9fxPjYVIS219KCWyIQ2/s320/DSC04061.jpg" width="272" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Loomii always intrigued me because she is sweet and
respectful, unlike 95% of rural Ethiopian children. She never begged or
expected much. She never cried or carried herself with anything other than a
smile and patience, yet it seemed that she had every excuse to do otherwise.
For <span style="background: white; mso-shading-themecolor: background1;">these reasons
and</span> more it didn’t take long for me to fall in love with Loomii. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We started sharing meals together, as it was evident that
she needed the nutrition and calories. She taught me some Amharic and Oromiifa
and I helped her with English. We colored together and I read books to her.
Before much time had passed Loomii was taking warm water baths in my home, I
was washing her clothes and helping her study. In return she would indulge me with short
stemmed flowers she picked on her walk home from school. Through these small
expressions of love Loomii and I have bonded immensely.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It may sound crazy, but I have considered adopting Loomii.
She deserves so much more and I worry that she won’t meet her potential. I
worry that no one in her life will advocate for her and that she may get pulled
out of school early. I worry that she won’t get enough affection, nutrition and
emotional support. I worry that she may never realize how amazing she is and
how bright her future could be. However, compared to many children in Ethiopia,
especially in Adaba, Loomii’s situation is good and I have spent much of my 2
years here trying to help her succeed. I am convinced that pulling her out of
her country, culture, and further away
from her hodge-podge “family” would be more harmful to her spirit.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMISpolxOIPMJciz15ZlFxyGPkg6sFKntcjZ7sJRCOmM8qs6oYzBE-hFHkLTcQ6yLDg8dg0hLfa-t3CNExt7XYrgWZM6uNQmjFQXh7u6iq9syq5Wh2HyC9HyzHihyphenhyphenANP8RwlAGhS4J8iMN/s1600/DSCN4879.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMISpolxOIPMJciz15ZlFxyGPkg6sFKntcjZ7sJRCOmM8qs6oYzBE-hFHkLTcQ6yLDg8dg0hLfa-t3CNExt7XYrgWZM6uNQmjFQXh7u6iq9syq5Wh2HyC9HyzHihyphenhyphenANP8RwlAGhS4J8iMN/s400/DSCN4879.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loomii with her cousin Rama (left) and another kid who briefly lived on our compound.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My recipe for loving Loomii is affection, good food,
attention and compliments. I believe that these things will help Loomii grow up
healthy and happy. Her height is measured monthly against the dingy paint on my
door and quarter inch marks reveal her rapid maturity. We stroll around town,
hand in hand as children approach </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5jL18LHa8W6NR1jQtBhyQEhCctomQj1Zmd5vgAPsLyc1rk_lMtm38KB2itr-84N_zi6O0PIkLJDcd5gKk79ZNIsOht2rWPNXZptsCqLvNpjXXHfLLEjekFG-rEOcNMEHk65M3rNNUOINy/s1600/DSC05513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5jL18LHa8W6NR1jQtBhyQEhCctomQj1Zmd5vgAPsLyc1rk_lMtm38KB2itr-84N_zi6O0PIkLJDcd5gKk79ZNIsOht2rWPNXZptsCqLvNpjXXHfLLEjekFG-rEOcNMEHk65M3rNNUOINy/s200/DSC05513.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
wishing to join our parade and Loomii corrects
them by saying in Amharic “Her name is not ‘ferengi’ or ‘china’ don’t be rude”
and we smugly walk away. She stands up for me, and once after I witnessed her
uncle physically attacked her, I had the opportunity to stick up for her too.
We are each others’ alibis.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I transferred Loomii to the best primary school in Adaba. A
private school with small class sizes, the only one where kids attend full day
instead of half, and the teachers stay late to help with extracurricular
activities. Loomii loves her new school and has made a lot of great friends.
For an annual enrollment fee of 100 birr ($6) and a uniform for 250 birr ($15)
Loomii’s education has had a dramatic upgrade. At 9 years old she has just
finished kindergarten; her graduation program is at the end of the June. From
grade 1-8 I will set up a fully funded scholarship so that she can stay in
school and no one will have an excuse to remove her. I’m hoping after 8<sup>th</sup>
grade, at 17 years old, she will be confident enough to stand up for herself.
To insist that her education is important, that <i>she</i> is important, and she wants to continue to high school. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgviByrymCe8b3wLXD60vgoxhgARopGOY6fhV6Lu6Vle5-_5x4pclogtdzabILB4qRGLTLkNlLC6gBVKwYDkbZFXR6piGmAznGb77_T-B5HHmbLnu4Xbre8oTwRUmRPA9xtfJfbmMW91CEH/s1600/DSC05503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgviByrymCe8b3wLXD60vgoxhgARopGOY6fhV6Lu6Vle5-_5x4pclogtdzabILB4qRGLTLkNlLC6gBVKwYDkbZFXR6piGmAznGb77_T-B5HHmbLnu4Xbre8oTwRUmRPA9xtfJfbmMW91CEH/s400/DSC05503.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loomii and her best friend Mituu at school.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I leave I don’t know how to keep in contact with
Loomii. She’s too young and our communication is too poor for me to tell her
that I will leave, forever, that I want to be in contact with her, but until
she gets a phone or e-mail or understands the post system this will not be
possible. I don’t want her to forget me or to think that I could ever forget
her. I want to make her a photo album of our 2 years together and write a
message for her in the back. Maybe when she’s older and can read English
fluently she will know that that ferengi called “B” was more than just a food
vendor. That crazy white girl adores you and hopes that your life is
fulfilling, full of people who love and respect you, full of mystery that is
welcoming and not daunting, and unlike the hundreds of other people who have
asked me, that YOU, Loomii, do have a sponsor in America if you wish to
immigrate or join University across the Atlantic. Maybe 12 years from now I
will get a long distance phone call in America from a woman named Loomii When I
say “hello” she will greet me brightly, “B!”. <br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</div>
</div>
The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-25261814149852852802013-06-05T08:55:00.001-07:002013-06-05T09:03:07.191-07:00The motherland of coffee<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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5 June 2013</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVJcn0OVHJ3sLqXd8QdDWxG5Vze3OiqjwyYWeJkiUiUkSPHPy22dWCP0fcpVKXtWnUmg79aLa4TX9BYU-JPh82K_MPI2AjqTNgz84Tye1IAnKC_zcn_ylUsX92PMvLUL2cEhBYf3H5sWFk/s1600/DSC04034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVJcn0OVHJ3sLqXd8QdDWxG5Vze3OiqjwyYWeJkiUiUkSPHPy22dWCP0fcpVKXtWnUmg79aLa4TX9BYU-JPh82K_MPI2AjqTNgz84Tye1IAnKC_zcn_ylUsX92PMvLUL2cEhBYf3H5sWFk/s400/DSC04034.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Traditional Ethiopian clay coffee pot<i>.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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After oil, coffee is the second most
exchanged commodity in the world. It’s the fuel that keeps many societies
working; the reason why so many of can even begin to consider rolling out of
bed each morning. If you’re a coffee drinker, you might be interested to learn
that Ethiopia is the motherland of coffee. </div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Cafe arabica</span></i>
o</span>riginates from Western Ethiopia in the Kafa zone. The local legend says that
many years ago a peasant was herding his livestock and began to notice them
expressing strange, erratic behavior. Upon closer observation he noticed that
they had been eating leaves from an unfamiliar tree. He picked the tree leaves
and cooked them for himself, experiencing a more energetic feeling after
consumption of the brew. Ethiopian today use the leaves, fruit hulls and fruit
seeds as a stimulant which is prepared by first drying, roasting, crushing and
boiled with water. The seeds are most commonly used in other countries, but
many parts of the plant contain caffeine and a taste great.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC5wGmxDvTs3oss939XMCF-hucYsqE5HTTDrRhvFQjRhBecoz2XfOkPP-tk9WJiDTH1lQIQ3yZ5X2VDNQPrOaY4BrEDq1eeZF4eThV8VET1ukWR9LNJ2J_f_VA4ra81NulQs8J008I6CaQ/s1600/DSC04029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC5wGmxDvTs3oss939XMCF-hucYsqE5HTTDrRhvFQjRhBecoz2XfOkPP-tk9WJiDTH1lQIQ3yZ5X2VDNQPrOaY4BrEDq1eeZF4eThV8VET1ukWR9LNJ2J_f_VA4ra81NulQs8J008I6CaQ/s320/DSC04029.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green coffee beans and their dried exterior hulls. <br />
Both of which make a delicious beverage.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Recently a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve was established in the Kafa zone
of Ethiopia to protect around 200,000 ha of natural forest where the wild
coffee g<span style="background-color: white;">rows (<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><a href="http://www.kafa-biosphere.com/">kafa-biosphere.com</a></span>).
T</span>his area is intended to be left under conservation so that the coffee may grow
naturally without any human interference thus the genetic integrity and
evolution of coffee is maintained. If cultivation and domestication of coffee
ever goes awry with disease or pest problems (as seen with other popular crops
includi<span style="background-color: white;">ng <span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><a href="http://www.npr.org/2011/08/30/139787380/bananas-the-uncertain-future-of-a-favorite-fruit">bananas</a></span>) th</span>e
Kafa Biosphere will be the saving grace. If left to grow and evolve naturally,
plants such as coffee will have enough genetic diversity in their wild stock to
have resilience against many pests and diseases. This biosphere in Ethiopia is
a gift to the world, because without it if there ever was a disastrous coffee
epidemic we could find ourselves caffeine fiends without our beloved morning
buzz. </div>
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The majority of US adults are coffee drinkers. (Duh!) Many
people never make their own coffee but purchase it instead. Many people are
satisfied with instant coffee, some buy it pre-ground, and others do that
“work” themselves each morning. But how many of you have roasted coffee
yourself? In Ethiopia, coffee preparation starts from green beans every time.
Here’s a step by step of the coffee roasting process. </div>
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1) Wash the beans at least 3 times and pick out all the ugly
ones.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8cRj4b2wLusGHdT42nPe9Nr3BW4lvJKGEuUbuxXkWANbszj-7uuoToQmmES9U9ZHIZ4LtNtqmVWyL0HyaMooCo9cyIuKNEjGG1Y-aAOntcKkDgxleR3hYvNsJXl6TNM3ou-hWUr6T_yLv/s1600/DSC04054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8cRj4b2wLusGHdT42nPe9Nr3BW4lvJKGEuUbuxXkWANbszj-7uuoToQmmES9U9ZHIZ4LtNtqmVWyL0HyaMooCo9cyIuKNEjGG1Y-aAOntcKkDgxleR3hYvNsJXl6TNM3ou-hWUr6T_yLv/s320/DSC04054.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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2) Roast them over medium heat until they crack, swell, become
oily, smoke and smell delicious</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtpahFwtsETzPrUyft2Cu_Q4ZgEmeCM8AjkPeYydvOK0byoSwxYn1NT4-9VxHrFqMAoUcu3o3gA7vcpE3blhHw_T2xX65p-DSrSXampyqAqPQyCNgvuZh7FeqTOnYCMeLJFVih3gT1cPFr/s1600/DSC04058.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtpahFwtsETzPrUyft2Cu_Q4ZgEmeCM8AjkPeYydvOK0byoSwxYn1NT4-9VxHrFqMAoUcu3o3gA7vcpE3blhHw_T2xX65p-DSrSXampyqAqPQyCNgvuZh7FeqTOnYCMeLJFVih3gT1cPFr/s320/DSC04058.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8hV2sQ8PD9CGdO7bIbvXPrZ6qQl4XHsFghlElUAY3HR86uHzZuoh7VAzuw64HLVMmdIaX0h15Gkklk_QOfTDv63db4kR3OptjwE3KDZSb38pc0eVBZYi-H2iF4vcrBemoMcBr9lZjKqVK/s1600/DSC04059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8hV2sQ8PD9CGdO7bIbvXPrZ6qQl4XHsFghlElUAY3HR86uHzZuoh7VAzuw64HLVMmdIaX0h15Gkklk_QOfTDv63db4kR3OptjwE3KDZSb38pc0eVBZYi-H2iF4vcrBemoMcBr9lZjKqVK/s320/DSC04059.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYhyphenhyphen28fOXlfqy4r5QUMucG-_tjTUe1kuDPuR1YZ24dyZgqJTq_DfjmqKe8LEMMUsxda9gmgQT1SKGz3ZTVDC2L5ZUOHuTd2nlUkxFdvn-F6ax559L-DMMIeUyPhGtEPGt78u5crw7YqL-O/s1600/DSC04052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYhyphenhyphen28fOXlfqy4r5QUMucG-_tjTUe1kuDPuR1YZ24dyZgqJTq_DfjmqKe8LEMMUsxda9gmgQT1SKGz3ZTVDC2L5ZUOHuTd2nlUkxFdvn-F6ax559L-DMMIeUyPhGtEPGt78u5crw7YqL-O/s320/DSC04052.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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3) Boil water in “jebinah” (local coffee pot), add ground
coffee and boil again. After steam is visible let the jebinah sit at an angle
until all the coffee grinds have settled. Pour coffee slowly into “seenies” (teenie-tiny
cups). </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxDQkzBwK7IUIifugDht54izrgjRxPijkCdgf_sIa6MJtx7UfSt1HYYUo2pK8tVHlwv7DhjMVRFQ-u3oY-t51GjI0ijZXLj3_V4KAxdBZ99aUlkXPlpgtt4xmB4FUg9agHb19kLPNxmgG8/s1600/DSC04039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxDQkzBwK7IUIifugDht54izrgjRxPijkCdgf_sIa6MJtx7UfSt1HYYUo2pK8tVHlwv7DhjMVRFQ-u3oY-t51GjI0ijZXLj3_V4KAxdBZ99aUlkXPlpgtt4xmB4FUg9agHb19kLPNxmgG8/s400/DSC04039.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My friend Tarikwa preparing a coffee ceremony at her home. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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If Ethiopians were into poly deism, coffee would be up there
with Jesus Christ himself because Ethiopians worship coffee. Typically a “bunna
mafla” (full coffee ceremony) takes 1 hour from start to finish and happens
about 2-3 times a day in any given Ethiopian household. I wake up and go to
sleep each day hearing the pounding of the beans being ground and smelling the
coffee boil from my neighbor’s home. Watching an Ethiopian celebrate coffee
each time they gently wash it, patiently roast it and slowly drink it (2 ounces
at a time) makes me a little sad for my American culture. We consume more
coffee than most countries in the world but do we really appreciate it? We have
the opportunity to give more economic power and benefit to the farmers and
countries that produce this substance we are so overwhelmingly addicted to, but we don’t. We buy it in bulk, we
drink it like water but many do not know what a coffee tree looks like, where
it originates from or how to make coffee from the start of a green bean to the delectable
finish. But now YOU do! </div>
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I encourage you reassess and better appreciate your early
morning friend, and give a big Halleluiah to Ethiopia, the motherland of coffee
(Is it a coincidence that Ethiopia is also considered “the cradle of humanity?”)</div>
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<br />
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P.S. Buy some Ethiopian coffee and let me know what you
think!</div>
</div>
The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-86430371249979544782013-06-05T08:33:00.000-07:002013-06-05T08:34:12.109-07:00Rainy season commences<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
3 June 2013</div>
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<br /></div>
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The big rainy season, known as “Krimpt,” is my favorite time
of year in Ethiopia! Here are a few reasons why:</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<ul>
<li><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Kids caught in the rain pull up their shirt
collars over their head to protect themselves from getting wet. All I see is a
bunch of mini Bevis and Buttheads running around. Fan-tastic!</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->It’s the only time I don’t feel bad for women
wearing burkas.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->When the rain falls Adaba doesn’t smell like
S@#%.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->I don’t have to worry about my school gardens or
tree nurseries that always need watering.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->The streets vacate as everyone escapes the rain.
The rare and beloved silence is relaxing.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->There is no guilt when I spend all afternoon
writing letters and reading. </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->I love Ramadan and the rain means it’s almost
here! </div>
</li>
</ul>
</ul>
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<br /></div>
</div>
The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-22746313361477203682013-05-28T04:07:00.000-07:002013-06-03T08:21:37.883-07:00coming around...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I’ve been absent for a long time, probably most of my blog
followers have given up on me and found more maintained blogs with better
pictures, stories and grammar. My apologies to those of you who know me
personally and enjoy my blog because it’s one of the few avenues you can stay
connected to me (maybe I’m giving myself to much credit?). So here’s a blog for
those who still bother checking: including photos and personal details: stuff
that entertaining blogs are made out of! </div>
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<o:p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihEXyUsfGLGjEc4gWzKZQjwgnRQrFwSLRsY75K8oUPkIe3zxCwkczeN0204TPiosyVVDjz_JdG0KAJu_IgCNeczPmH257ayHi9Tok_AVOGxW_py9U0P7_TMbb4oxJKko8n6HZmN4W0RA0S/s1600/DSC03248.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihEXyUsfGLGjEc4gWzKZQjwgnRQrFwSLRsY75K8oUPkIe3zxCwkczeN0204TPiosyVVDjz_JdG0KAJu_IgCNeczPmH257ayHi9Tok_AVOGxW_py9U0P7_TMbb4oxJKko8n6HZmN4W0RA0S/s640/DSC03248.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(I've been busy exploring Ethiopia)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The truth of the matter is that for many months I struggled
with something unfamiliar to me, and could be categorized by others as
depression/self-absorption/laziness or a unwelcome reality check. Put simply, I
got burnt out by Ethiopia. Fortunately I had a long series of visitors over the
past 6 months all of whom came to visit me at my site and experience life as I
know it here. Highlights include:</div>
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<br /></div>
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When Brett played guitar and sang for students at the
primary school with me. We wrote a song together and the students still sing it
with me when I work at the school. Hopefully they understood the message and
are more inclined to wash their hands, eat vegetables and say please and thank
you. Before he came to visit Brett was mostly a friend of a friend but I’m
delighted to know that I have a great friend to go paragliding and mountain bike
with when I return to Missoula!</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVes_vCy6h6fF1ua40dRGaPsMbVCirwCQgXxSO3qruX9B6yL7LWa950e8DvV_KvIQ4N4JbuzuF41O-vS3lpVpYG-FlBJcVoMv1J5MPePaqdayIDaEQo8kvkB422Yo94UkePiz-gQZTPWPY/s1600/brett.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVes_vCy6h6fF1ua40dRGaPsMbVCirwCQgXxSO3qruX9B6yL7LWa950e8DvV_KvIQ4N4JbuzuF41O-vS3lpVpYG-FlBJcVoMv1J5MPePaqdayIDaEQo8kvkB422Yo94UkePiz-gQZTPWPY/s640/brett.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Brett wandering around the fields outside of my town.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm7Vea71f-a06A03F1bVW22qFqe2aXpccYNinM6aEditx0m7Pte7qLfncQwv47c5LOpkFnYYs7GBxRvAxLszyk2kl-eoxw-tuE-6s-l8fUkVmjQ2I7piVoHiLv_0IOBT0lSweWf1egFAxP/s1600/brett2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm7Vea71f-a06A03F1bVW22qFqe2aXpccYNinM6aEditx0m7Pte7qLfncQwv47c5LOpkFnYYs7GBxRvAxLszyk2kl-eoxw-tuE-6s-l8fUkVmjQ2I7piVoHiLv_0IOBT0lSweWf1egFAxP/s640/brett2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying Lake Awassa with our very knowledgeable and unsuspecting bird guru.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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John and Shana came to visit me in February and what an
adventure we had. I don’t for see me having such long string of exotic
expeditions ever again. Memorable and humors events are a guarantee whenever
John’s around, and it was only made better by his lovely lady Shana who taught
me a lot about being graceful in Africa and relishing each moment. We covered a
lot in a short period of time and were all totally worn out by the end of it.
Thanks for helping me re-discover Ethiopia Shana and John. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl2SQLzFxMSHYxEiYFcSUckapu2LV5np-5RfWwHJTdlyNuARnEb46Wq0hglzrQqJVOicrd1JHHJVkSCna4d2PVvURJ9BE80p3_zrWE1GU0sPpDV5cuOhcKdiU10KrtmpE8rN_er-AgqHo6/s1600/DSC03384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl2SQLzFxMSHYxEiYFcSUckapu2LV5np-5RfWwHJTdlyNuARnEb46Wq0hglzrQqJVOicrd1JHHJVkSCna4d2PVvURJ9BE80p3_zrWE1GU0sPpDV5cuOhcKdiU10KrtmpE8rN_er-AgqHo6/s400/DSC03384.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bale Mountains National Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next up was Hayley, </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJI1F4zpnqlhhC_hxX_anedajGJm_wg-CQLiVqDOgRWzYkESP5yBD35o4VJ45iO0dtHvWwX9bqFJT-cS-DNyuQsAALOfyoWvARu3FmERUETc4qhPraenQYrL7F59QOx3oZDLmiAgVyxsDa/s1600/DSC03524.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJI1F4zpnqlhhC_hxX_anedajGJm_wg-CQLiVqDOgRWzYkESP5yBD35o4VJ45iO0dtHvWwX9bqFJT-cS-DNyuQsAALOfyoWvARu3FmERUETc4qhPraenQYrL7F59QOx3oZDLmiAgVyxsDa/s400/DSC03524.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
one of my best pen-pals since I arrived and the only friend I actually believed when she said she was coming to
visit during my PC service. Hayley was the only person who could calm me when I
was worked up and scared about moving to Ethiopia. She assured me that I could
not have had better luck than to be place in the Horn of Africa, and I think
she was right. Hayley and I had 2 weeks in Ethiopia where we got lucky enough
to see a wild leopard, hippos, Ethiopian wolves and the elusive honey badger.
To wrap up our time together we went to Zanzibar (which again I was reluctant to
do and she talked me into it; she always seems to know what is best for me).
The pictures will reveal that Zanzibar is absolutely the most beautiful place ever,
with wonderful people and all the nonsense fun that a bundle of low-budget
travelers could hope for. We hit all the
tourist spots, sampled everything from the ocean buffet and are all determined
to end up there again someday soon. Forget San Francisco, I left my heart in
Zanzibar. Hayley, Katheryn and I made great travel partners and feel confident
that we will stir up trouble somewhere else soon.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVuuzGhu44QboieGId8_JsPaHinvpJo4FwcnuFGBWmq8e6xutmdHms9pQijE2P5sc5qXhv2TAmqct8iCwOXd3SfAOuRrqku3E1H92ANECWiwttP06e2XMiSdonf2HaxsQ57tP76heEgLhP/s1600/DSC03598.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVuuzGhu44QboieGId8_JsPaHinvpJo4FwcnuFGBWmq8e6xutmdHms9pQijE2P5sc5qXhv2TAmqct8iCwOXd3SfAOuRrqku3E1H92ANECWiwttP06e2XMiSdonf2HaxsQ57tP76heEgLhP/s640/DSC03598.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stone Town</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAXrFvsf_LvsVCTHEc7wCqNzDj0m2RaNcLvLi6IXBgH1GgTbxn2Bl4fxmWeMOjL7WO9C12J6pdGIaNI5n6ei33IKCZgOEkxpgeRnjQ9v1bZ3EAi9Oj2FrEO7NtzM1AkIvq7Ub_PbbH7UQ/s1600/DSC03599.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAXrFvsf_LvsVCTHEc7wCqNzDj0m2RaNcLvLi6IXBgH1GgTbxn2Bl4fxmWeMOjL7WO9C12J6pdGIaNI5n6ei33IKCZgOEkxpgeRnjQ9v1bZ3EAi9Oj2FrEO7NtzM1AkIvq7Ub_PbbH7UQ/s640/DSC03599.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stone Town's windy back streets always leave you happily disoriented</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTfABW8mq2YeZcdd2xIpnLPIwseKkSNE6PGEDtDvpYa8O_rVvhm1eQjyFJ8u4naoz0DV3DhlLQ9tQuLODM6bO1FPQNvHkAoGZHXVfwzKuADgq_TzM6NfOAu3yp6TjG3tSV4CyO0pb3-Jg9/s1600/DSC03613.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTfABW8mq2YeZcdd2xIpnLPIwseKkSNE6PGEDtDvpYa8O_rVvhm1eQjyFJ8u4naoz0DV3DhlLQ9tQuLODM6bO1FPQNvHkAoGZHXVfwzKuADgq_TzM6NfOAu3yp6TjG3tSV4CyO0pb3-Jg9/s640/DSC03613.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picturesque beaches of Nungwi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjid0rMhVxes4IfyEOF7SJuJY6lEwZuDmbQhCMCCJze0UhIZTXqjA3b3aBda21dMEnVDrXOHXrhZTMuJF9pJye8U97vDWnGoBIaLjrl45izgwuhOOj4kgPC6TQIXSyPHyohg1FO0pKZ-3xJ/s1600/DSC03632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjid0rMhVxes4IfyEOF7SJuJY6lEwZuDmbQhCMCCJze0UhIZTXqjA3b3aBda21dMEnVDrXOHXrhZTMuJF9pJye8U97vDWnGoBIaLjrl45izgwuhOOj4kgPC6TQIXSyPHyohg1FO0pKZ-3xJ/s640/DSC03632.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way to Memba island</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGqcFjwFGoN9uX8VJe2DKsbmz4-PPbukNHE-2cT2pEld0qMJGMRAdQkGucRkIYyYCY4xCDXf9IDMGAD-VxYBklhxViayKAGs-zCIJAflBsrpTs-E42PMyUmIS_5beX_xtEjxidPXPzoZLg/s1600/DSC03692.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGqcFjwFGoN9uX8VJe2DKsbmz4-PPbukNHE-2cT2pEld0qMJGMRAdQkGucRkIYyYCY4xCDXf9IDMGAD-VxYBklhxViayKAGs-zCIJAflBsrpTs-E42PMyUmIS_5beX_xtEjxidPXPzoZLg/s640/DSC03692.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting up close and personal with the oldest extant animals in the world!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most recently my dad and step-aunt, Beverly came to visit for
a whopping 3 weeks! I made sure they got the full experience of near-death
minibus rides, nasty hotel rooms, bus station chaos and plenty of rainy
weather. We also had a lot of luxuries that I was grateful for including
private vehicles, fancy hotels, in country flights and constant cribbage
partners. It was a very busy couple of weeks but I’m really happy that we
filled our schedule so they could meet so many of my Ethiopian and PC friends,
experience rural life, learn that Ethiopia is very lush and mountainous and
give me the encouragement to finish my last 6 months here strong. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJbPU221J6UQZ3u1_XQ6KhmQCETL9IHDA-75aGq7OvXxJMgGrPGrsLALRLMXhhZGFJp2KqLi4ALAVmCHXt_sMQNrtZ84Mf65sbJxTCP0kc47lNr5FHWwy68awffK-DilzwQ1sQ0-4-PhGB/s1600/File2366.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJbPU221J6UQZ3u1_XQ6KhmQCETL9IHDA-75aGq7OvXxJMgGrPGrsLALRLMXhhZGFJp2KqLi4ALAVmCHXt_sMQNrtZ84Mf65sbJxTCP0kc47lNr5FHWwy68awffK-DilzwQ1sQ0-4-PhGB/s640/File2366.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like father like daughter</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi70L1aJ-TB6hpq89RSlsUc9EZjdAUUwDu4LKMHfH-ooRQqYdqWSHy3htAD-1kla-htISqvhyfM0c4Ty5r5wrLlZpcoigMk1FDKJOWrWbVIP33Y7Gigspwfs-ZMsW-zEYkb5S4yIJaWF6p3/s1600/a+walk+in+the+park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi70L1aJ-TB6hpq89RSlsUc9EZjdAUUwDu4LKMHfH-ooRQqYdqWSHy3htAD-1kla-htISqvhyfM0c4Ty5r5wrLlZpcoigMk1FDKJOWrWbVIP33Y7Gigspwfs-ZMsW-zEYkb5S4yIJaWF6p3/s640/a+walk+in+the+park.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking in Bale Mountains National Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRTtOJBBInxgNmLEjeK0Js94kOsRoshf331UzvRZwtGNoD9zAUUHRObDvPTqIHEXFcX3qBBQS4-QgkaqCo192BeX2Pb0Yh55_NXRmKG-Kji76oHSbdEVdFe01a84-jUjERQEerue1vHUox/s1600/dad+and+bridget+in+awassa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRTtOJBBInxgNmLEjeK0Js94kOsRoshf331UzvRZwtGNoD9zAUUHRObDvPTqIHEXFcX3qBBQS4-QgkaqCo192BeX2Pb0Yh55_NXRmKG-Kji76oHSbdEVdFe01a84-jUjERQEerue1vHUox/s640/dad+and+bridget+in+awassa.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We make great travel companions together!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next visitors that I look forward to receiving is my
ever-beloved friend from high school, Sarah, who wants to have it really rough
here so that she returns extra motivated before she starts her PhD program this
fall. Don’t worry Sarah, I’ll make sure that you are eager to leave and spend
the next 4 years living under florescent lights and chasing deadlines. No
problem! I promise I’ll leave the embarrassing “congratulations on your
transgender operation <s>Sarah</s> Sam” sign at home this time when I pick you
up at the airport. You’re going to love Ethiopia and I can’t wait to see you!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBp84991M3gNQcuOqbi4T0jRLgDi8zkBSoXfih2jouL81XfwggTYTw425bQdCTw0gubbXnHEqm0I-JiOLz5Z3YI4Vfst-EoEbRzZqyA0ylHxp7MtNSFt2QCvH6mUX_QrWdk5f3_5kCoDhJ/s1600/sarah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBp84991M3gNQcuOqbi4T0jRLgDi8zkBSoXfih2jouL81XfwggTYTw425bQdCTw0gubbXnHEqm0I-JiOLz5Z3YI4Vfst-EoEbRzZqyA0ylHxp7MtNSFt2QCvH6mUX_QrWdk5f3_5kCoDhJ/s400/sarah.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2011 was too long ago!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last but not least, my favorite Montana gentleman is coming,
a.k.a. JOE! Despite the mileage, poor internet access and turmoil Joe still
thinks I’m worth sticking around for. Ladies and gentleman please give this man
a pat on the back, a tip of the hat or a high five if you see him because I
adore him and he’s a stand-up guy for staying by my side. Ethiopia will be a
great reunion for us and hopefully the first of many travels we will share
together. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbJIpP6vxnLPIOKqgnhyphenhyphenAKJhnRoKuWqN1QeAxmbV09BmDpClm8G1_qHOswxe6pSKJ3VLfRKfZRSf4uXLECYF9IgbWHi4YOvMBQ_WSryshC8MimflwBtY1Jq7pPrVcRwTl6sTT3SkXW-5H9/s1600/joe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbJIpP6vxnLPIOKqgnhyphenhyphenAKJhnRoKuWqN1QeAxmbV09BmDpClm8G1_qHOswxe6pSKJ3VLfRKfZRSf4uXLECYF9IgbWHi4YOvMBQ_WSryshC8MimflwBtY1Jq7pPrVcRwTl6sTT3SkXW-5H9/s400/joe.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
To encourage me to keep writing blog posts, please put your
suggestions below! </div>
</div>
The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-80324219134402190942013-05-24T06:38:00.001-07:002013-05-28T04:17:16.818-07:00e-mail to my academic advisor<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hello Steve, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thank you for the e-mail informing me of what to expect when
I return to school next year. I’m eager to wrap things up, mostly because of
the financial aspect, but I know that I also need to be realistic and it is my
priority to complete an outstanding thesis that I’m proud of and positively contributes
to the people and places I’ve grown to love here in Ethiopia. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Regarding my thesis, many things have become jumbled. The
shortened version is that the bamboo company I was involved with went bankrupt
due to corruption and organizational issues. Fortunately I was working under an
independent contractor and our assignment will be finished according to the
original contract and handed off to local and international stakeholders. The
work I have been involved with was helping to write and execute HH surveys,
input and analyze data and finally to co-write the EIA report for both bamboo
forest areas. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It has been a tremendous learning opportunity for me to see
the challenges businesses face here in Ethiopia. This specific business was
striving to create an ethical development project with admirable benefits for
involved communities and bamboo forests. The concept appeared idyllic on paper
and was very inspiring work in the beginning, but now that someone is incarcerated,
90% of the staff was let go (unpaid), and the involved Ethiopian communities are
very confused and unimpressed I have little hope that the business will
survive. What a tornado of activity I’ve witnessed in the last 8 months! Fortunately
I was just along for the ride and managed to obtain experience and information
that will help me complete a thesis and hopefully prevent me from being a
victim of incompetent employers in the future.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With that said, I have access to social, economic and
ecological data from 2 different communities who rely heavily on bamboo for
their livelihoods. Unfortunately for my previous project idea, it was
recommended that I do not return to the communities to collect ecological data
( I wanted to conduct a bamboo forest inventory analysis) because it may
further confuse the community and disrupt relationships. I agree with this
suggestion and will work with the SEB and EIA information that I have.
Potentially I’m thinking about writing a case study comparing these two
communities and the potential of bamboo utilization and marketing in Ethiopia.
I need to brainstorm some more and organize my ideas to settle on a more
specific thesis plan.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For now at least, I wanted to respond to your e-mail and let
you know:</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
</div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I intend to graduate sometime in 2014</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Ethiopia is constantly chaotic and full of life
lessons</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">My thesis has veered off track, but I am
confident that I’m on the brink of some great ideas</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">After all your years at University of Montana as
an advisor, I’m sure none of this information surprises you</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -0.25in;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I anticipate when you return from sabbatical we
can laugh about all of this over beer and you can tell me your own shocking
stories of promising research projects gone sour</span></li>
</ul>
<!--[if !supportLists]--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Best, Bridget</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-77977639324829410992013-01-31T06:16:00.004-08:002013-01-31T06:16:34.919-08:00A bag of puppies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
27 January 2013<br />
<br />
Matt found a bag of puppies.<br />
They were so young their eyes were not open yet.<br />
He heard their whimpers while he walked by, lifted the rock and untied the knots to reveal them. The morning after they were nestled in rags, all 5 puppies fitting snug inside a small box. My presence awoke them as I sat with them, noticing their unique colors, their paws the size of pennies, their skin pink and pure. They pushed themselves around to get comfortable, to get oriented, to find the milk, but alas none of their siblings were lactating.<br />
<br />
“<i>It happens every minute all over the world my friend</i>” my brother tried to console me.<br />
<br />
So what do we do? “<i>Feed them goats milk and find a momma dog they can attach to</i>” says my brother in America. Well in Ethiopia, most of the female dogs are killed so they don’t produce and create such situations. We have plenty of goats, but no goat milk is readily available. Even if we fed them, kept them alive, made them strong… is that a good solution?<br />
<br />
Frank typed “Human ways to euthanize puppies” into Google search. Is this a superior solution? Are we saving ourselves from the burden of responsibility or are we really just shortening the time of calamity for these babies, letting them go quicker to peace.<br />
<br />
Are they better off to grow up into street dogs? To be beaten by people, hit by cars and feel perpetual hunger? To reproduce and make more puppies who will be bagged and taken outside. What is the best answer? What is humane?<br />
<br />
In Ethiopia the streets are shared by homeless dogs and people. I can’t lend much sympathy to either of them anymore. I offer “exabier yilisting” (God will provide) though these words are not sincere, and do not heal wounds, give shelter from the sun or offer hope for their children. We have no homes for the homeless, no money for pity, no help for the handicap and no space for sympathy.<br />
<br />
For their sake, I’m glad the puppies were blind and unable to see all the shame in this world.<br />
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The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-25024217103322999092013-01-25T00:30:00.000-08:002013-01-25T00:38:11.812-08:00An exercise in poetry<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
24 January 2013<br />
<br />
<br />
Before Ethiopia became a place of my reality<br />
I knew it only as a distant story<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>of ancient cultures, diversity and infamous misery.<br />
People who not only appeared but<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>spoke, lived and learned unlike me.<br />
Landscapes raped of naturalness,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>plowed, cut and inhabited for too long.<br />
History, culture and community<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>inconceivable to me.<br />
<br />
As Ethiopia became part of my future<br />
I knew it only as an unexplainable truth<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>of limitless opportunities, challenges and necessary discomfort.<br />
People at first unfamiliar but<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> become my family, friends and mentors.<br />
Landscapes to explore,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>admire and preserve for posterity.<br />
Stories will evolve as time dissolves; their contribution initially<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>inconceivable to me.<br />
<br />
When Ethiopia was my place of residence<br />
I knew it only as a constant battle<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>of values and virtues imbalanced, disappointment and eager isolation.<br />
People who lived meagerly<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>gave time, laughter and love abundantly.<br />
Landscapes ever changing,<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> contours of color, texture and exhaustion.<br />
Questions and answers like pieces to a fragmented puzzle<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>inconceivable to me.<br />
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The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-76103542170162654712013-01-19T05:41:00.001-08:002013-01-19T05:45:47.565-08:00A trip to the market<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
13 January 2013<br />
<br />
(All photo credits to Brett Kvo!)<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYEtSU4_NOA9PKOKRNRbS47fTb44s9_m5nUTpKhVIhnt30BL4wUE8uASpwhGAPsfVuY2uILthADk9pItPJ-yiuy8_4Nu81h-_iJaAFEE8VEfPiU_BDj_izOi8n4TvBP1mIUGlWiT6NZOAB/s1600/IMG_7336.CR2" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYEtSU4_NOA9PKOKRNRbS47fTb44s9_m5nUTpKhVIhnt30BL4wUE8uASpwhGAPsfVuY2uILthADk9pItPJ-yiuy8_4Nu81h-_iJaAFEE8VEfPiU_BDj_izOi8n4TvBP1mIUGlWiT6NZOAB/s640/IMG_7336.CR2" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Squeezing mangoes and avocados only 11 cents each!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Twice a week my small town of 15,000 people becomes flooded with thousands of horses and donkeys packing vegetables, clothes and animal hides. These pack animals are led by thousands of more villagers walking slowly towards Adaba’s central market which occurs every Wednesday and Saturday. Ethiopians do not use grocery stores as they depend on weekly markets and small corner stores called “suks”. Market days are a big event for everyone but especially the rural people (the other 155,000 people in my larger district) who are easy to pick out because their faces display shock and disbelief at the perceived “modernity” of my small town, which to many of them is the largest “city” they have ever visited.<br />
<br />
Market products vary slightly from town to town because of local farming practices, climate and culture. Because my town is near to the large towns of Shashamene and Hawassa I am fortunate to be able to purchase a variety of fruits and vegetables. Some volunteers are restricted to cabbage, potatoes and carrots as their only available produce. There is coffee from at least 4 different areas, herbs and spices for every dish or health ailment and so many types of natural incense that your nose becomes unable to discern the subtle aromatic differences.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgk1PYdko4CV9icvjVZAegBqUFerOM2IEptnIFb-tkfegARNwSBbEnPK9Ga2eAUUlPvkWQQ02xEKNJWPzksrT-qdC0-nY3VZVZT28-gvMlqPKW6RHYEywP5zydQ2-LfXPDsAk8pgIBl5i8/s1600/IMG_7343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgk1PYdko4CV9icvjVZAegBqUFerOM2IEptnIFb-tkfegARNwSBbEnPK9Ga2eAUUlPvkWQQ02xEKNJWPzksrT-qdC0-nY3VZVZT28-gvMlqPKW6RHYEywP5zydQ2-LfXPDsAk8pgIBl5i8/s640/IMG_7343.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dry peppers to make berberry with.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2jAbsk8THIZ4Jwqv0mgZ6auo8eiCa0gv6QZWVG3Ij_p08riIphvY-Gc4L6x2FZshBdUhQu_zCg3jVAXZD0O7Orb3RAXCiZJ03ktjkhc4eAHmcc5IvQ0QagZijE8pByKfBAjrtUwued84w/s1600/IMG_7358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2jAbsk8THIZ4Jwqv0mgZ6auo8eiCa0gv6QZWVG3Ij_p08riIphvY-Gc4L6x2FZshBdUhQu_zCg3jVAXZD0O7Orb3RAXCiZJ03ktjkhc4eAHmcc5IvQ0QagZijE8pByKfBAjrtUwued84w/s640/IMG_7358.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cardamon pods.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVAeoK6-SYED2OuJIu8M0D7sm8wOpHW5uVAwmBYTwcz6e4G9yYK3EhmZGNhqreDYf_HihNFyCfFabP5QjNseI7mhWQI3oXFgX7znFycWFBQZaDoGJ3hUPNdQJjl8EkC_rJVhhdfQHjXhM4/s1600/IMG_7360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVAeoK6-SYED2OuJIu8M0D7sm8wOpHW5uVAwmBYTwcz6e4G9yYK3EhmZGNhqreDYf_HihNFyCfFabP5QjNseI7mhWQI3oXFgX7znFycWFBQZaDoGJ3hUPNdQJjl8EkC_rJVhhdfQHjXhM4/s640/IMG_7360.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Salt from the NE area of Ethiopia, Afar.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIi53syald3OaOa94xwbjQRY0qrPbGfAmfnkG-qZOh6YusxxnS4R2feRa6U6Mbr_XUsE0_CQErf4-55Hh9oVFXnPOsYyLw2JIEGGRbDgURyAFQDUYOFO89j-QmjE45JsKgiqRzXkK93nRq/s1600/IMG_7364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIi53syald3OaOa94xwbjQRY0qrPbGfAmfnkG-qZOh6YusxxnS4R2feRa6U6Mbr_XUsE0_CQErf4-55Hh9oVFXnPOsYyLw2JIEGGRbDgURyAFQDUYOFO89j-QmjE45JsKgiqRzXkK93nRq/s640/IMG_7364.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coffee by the espresso cup only (2 birr = $0.11)!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil3li91Tirsmc1IocmbVb5KpJjkf8XfZgt4o39uH3nKjHznyE1Q150oL0PzO0XX1K7-viukRjXQz4oao72uE9nWUAgQ_lniczPvWeiv8AQS1xJD8SO1fnohXQlx9sjv5G5xo35sE3DVK4t/s1600/IMG_7373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil3li91Tirsmc1IocmbVb5KpJjkf8XfZgt4o39uH3nKjHznyE1Q150oL0PzO0XX1K7-viukRjXQz4oao72uE9nWUAgQ_lniczPvWeiv8AQS1xJD8SO1fnohXQlx9sjv5G5xo35sE3DVK4t/s640/IMG_7373.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Incense!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqAs7tULrXmdJPJEYIk0QglmVWMtSLRImdv-BWJbf2p3CTbI-v7YrzvMYNDOaa84hRLnjDEKTLhNewwyC02y74M-WFswa7-mr2CM_yLIsLs1uTgxcA3KEekLtWVYbIHjFR9UN11l64lcBL/s1600/IMG_7378.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqAs7tULrXmdJPJEYIk0QglmVWMtSLRImdv-BWJbf2p3CTbI-v7YrzvMYNDOaa84hRLnjDEKTLhNewwyC02y74M-WFswa7-mr2CM_yLIsLs1uTgxcA3KEekLtWVYbIHjFR9UN11l64lcBL/s640/IMG_7378.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sniffing some incense and learning about the local medicinal herbs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnqfOQu-tIfoCwNUI9oGZC6iEbmPCFuQ6C4Gl_iZdaIpnGSdt9rYJGdaI5FdufKNtAzu5VZGZcAIhqimYBBcMG9_8DhmgUHZ7iIx31qUQ3GIatioYkrHVfeBdPERzIsT3LvUg6O-DmKWIY/s1600/IMG_7386.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnqfOQu-tIfoCwNUI9oGZC6iEbmPCFuQ6C4Gl_iZdaIpnGSdt9rYJGdaI5FdufKNtAzu5VZGZcAIhqimYBBcMG9_8DhmgUHZ7iIx31qUQ3GIatioYkrHVfeBdPERzIsT3LvUg6O-DmKWIY/s640/IMG_7386.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Honey is abundant, but very dirty because it's only used to make mead (honey wine).<br />
I'm trying to start a women's cooperative to clean the honey and start a edible honey market in Adaba.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Most everything is sold by the kilo including shoes, honey, onions and coffee. There are limited handicrafts such as baskets, pottery and decorated gourds to purchase while other more popular items such as sugar cane and rancid butter are always abundant. My purchases tend to be produce and coffee, and when I have the patience and energy I enjoy wandering around to see what other obscure items or vendors can be found. Typically my patience is exhausted after 30-60 minutes because my presence quickly encourages followers, mostly children, who indiscreetly go with me from one stand to the next exclaiming on my every comment and purchase.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpDiw21CXndSJCHfesnmLckZrsB1zkIce_c1g5YUAFGLyLi_tfmTXXP9EGEMfPxXgVi7h0TpjtCVSe6KtfPfzeNftz790O10X_3XuJ0zwfrPQI0WDfgv0Rk2FaCcymqQZsuH-h3_1N8F9I/s1600/DSCN4876.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpDiw21CXndSJCHfesnmLckZrsB1zkIce_c1g5YUAFGLyLi_tfmTXXP9EGEMfPxXgVi7h0TpjtCVSe6KtfPfzeNftz790O10X_3XuJ0zwfrPQI0WDfgv0Rk2FaCcymqQZsuH-h3_1N8F9I/s640/DSCN4876.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Weekly market produce all under the price of $3.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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After the market I confine myself to my small compound for the remainder of the day because going out only welcomes a mild anxiety attack. Even a short trip to the corner suk invites several rural people to gawk and yell at me or a near collision with a high speed horse taxi. Because my town is predominantly Muslim belligerent people are not common but on Wednesday and Saturday drunk people are everywhere and public urination seems to become an unspoken completion. Butchers toss out vertebras, skulls and hooves for the dogs and massive hooded vultures that squak, steal and scrounge for the best meal of the week. Speakers on the verge of short circuiting thump as kids dash through the bumpy streets, past the busy foosball and pool tables and through crowds of men shaking hands, hugging and stroking each others’ beards. A joyous party for everyone, but me, who prefers to read, cook and wash until the chill of dusk encourages people to return to their villages and anticipate the next market day. <br />
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The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-32615341669460426152013-01-19T05:17:00.002-08:002013-01-19T05:17:32.456-08:00Addis Ababa’s allure<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
18 December 2012<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrroRFuypper0z5hePfx4-FqI767elzXYNLWZgF-XPpLB-ZH_EHcipdmMzZhoEqd7J98ssqo3B7O5GD9VckPXWSSVQMhvgueYYNARMo-vf-S-CPnW2ANGYDLTYwDrYZgYXEqfxKxVmEM5x/s1600/IMG_7093.CR2" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrroRFuypper0z5hePfx4-FqI767elzXYNLWZgF-XPpLB-ZH_EHcipdmMzZhoEqd7J98ssqo3B7O5GD9VckPXWSSVQMhvgueYYNARMo-vf-S-CPnW2ANGYDLTYwDrYZgYXEqfxKxVmEM5x/s640/IMG_7093.CR2" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Modern buildings, historic churches and child labor.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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As the capital of Ethiopia one would consider Addis Ababa to reveal a lot about the status of the country. Vividly I can recall my first night in Ethiopia as we drove from the airport to our hotel and I anxiously gazed out the window, searching for clues about this new country and culture. Much to my dismay I found broken sidewalks, corrugated tin metal construction, people sleeping in the gutters and trash carpeting the landscape. Typically a capital city has a concentration of wealth, and especially the area around the airport where all tourists and diplomats pass through; Addis immediately proved to be something different. Nothing indicated hope for prosperity only disparity, but I assuaged my fear by telling me that the daytime would shed light on a different story.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlqvkm1TRAMWOcdOoCs-nCnbsOAoZiqUtVpvFA7xkRWo8rnTZS5152xz8_qOoTaW-sXU1tKv00YLe9iQN-7n-MkCIMMO39HoDxPwYB0XGeqYIBDaX-soavgvzrWTNB0F2cQL9480DZF-qN/s1600/IMG_7106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="401" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlqvkm1TRAMWOcdOoCs-nCnbsOAoZiqUtVpvFA7xkRWo8rnTZS5152xz8_qOoTaW-sXU1tKv00YLe9iQN-7n-MkCIMMO39HoDxPwYB0XGeqYIBDaX-soavgvzrWTNB0F2cQL9480DZF-qN/s640/IMG_7106.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I woke up early the next morning to church speakers, diesel engines and mini-bus horns. Outside of my hotel room I saw the most expensive and impressive architecture of the city: the African Union buildings. Maybe, I thought to myself, things are indeed better than they had initially seemed in last night’s darkness.<br />
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Admittedly, it took me a few days to have the courage to leave the hotel and venture out into the streets. I walked across a bridge, the water below smelled of human waste and the soap from people washing upstream created a massive collection of bubbles. I turned the corner to walk toward the African Union, the epicenter of modernity, only to be chased off the road by an enormous herd of cattle and struggle to step between the rocks and muddle puddles on the main road. Translated Addis Ababa means “new flower” this is obviously more poetic than literal as the smell and sight of the “flower” quickly overwhelmed me and I returned to the hotel for refuge.<br />
<br />
Addis has become more familiar to me over the past 16 months, I can get where I need to go day or night but each visit reminds me of what a bizarre place it is. The expansive city is 203 sq. miles and inhabited by approximately 6 million people; one of the largest cities in the continent of Africa. Only four functioning stop light exist in the city, while other large intersections are directed by a single policeman working daily, or abandoned to the madness of taxi drivers, pedestrians and livestock. Only 14% of people in Addis Ababa have flushing toilets and the majority of electricity access (only 16% of the country’s population) exists here. Addis has the largest outdoor market in Africa, Mercato, where you can find nearly anything imaginable is available for purchase if you can spend your money before it is stolen. It seems that most areas in Addis are under construction, which seems to progress and expand but never be completed. The construction provides a constant obstacle course for pedestrians that must hop over putrid smelling puddles, pass by unsecure man holes, climb over boulders and avoid bulldozers and workmen.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQJELgZ5VMGUtBgzSD82OCSM1bnGIDFouQacmWZSfyjU5v8twMEx48THkWeW3BTmzEyf2at5hGfgLml1Kqebg-R_MTedDHP9-xqOfOXLebsLoffWCLDX1rHIYjAwAjg4BjZx8riWWymff3/s1600/IMG_7108.CR2" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQJELgZ5VMGUtBgzSD82OCSM1bnGIDFouQacmWZSfyjU5v8twMEx48THkWeW3BTmzEyf2at5hGfgLml1Kqebg-R_MTedDHP9-xqOfOXLebsLoffWCLDX1rHIYjAwAjg4BjZx8riWWymff3/s640/IMG_7108.CR2" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Comment like and share our food! Menu items include the "face burger" and "face pizza". <br />There is no such thing as copyright infringement in Ethiopia.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The metaphorical flower indeed is something to overwhelm all of your senses, and after many weeks and months in my small town I look forward to a trip to the capital. These visits permit opportunities to eat food from nearly any country in the world, buy groceries and gadgets that can be found nowhere else such as tahini, mouse traps or cooking knives. Such extravagant shopping sprees can make it is easy for me to spend 1,000 birr ($60) in a single day, which would take me 4-6 weeks to spend in my rural town. One of my favorite parts of going to Addis is witnessing middle class citizens, independent and modern women wearing pants and driving cars, well fed children and so many foreigners that I can go about my business unnoticed. My feelings towards Addis Ababa are capricious, as it is only tolerable in moderation and with the relief to know that I don’t live there.<br />
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</div>
The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-6215657010966745652013-01-05T11:36:00.002-08:002013-01-05T11:38:59.871-08:00Behind every successful woman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
5 January 2013<br />
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It has been said that “behind every successful man there is a strong woman.” In Ethiopia there is an addition to this: “behind every successful woman there is no one,” Implying that what helped make her successful was avoiding the social pressures of getting married and not pursuing her own education or career. This is not a society where women have many advantages and to be financially, professionally and academically successful an Ethiopian woman will face challenges and criticism every single day. <br />
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Many young girls are pressured by their families to immigrate to the Middle East for job opportunities. Often they work as house servants to families they cannot communicate with, and in a culture that is very modern and unfamiliar. They use washing machines, chemical cleaners and cook food that Ethiopians have never seen let alone touched or tasted. Risk of failure is high in these job settings. Even more dangerous is the sexual violence that is all too common among these Ethiopian immigrant workers. Women have come home maybe with more savings to their name, but at a high cost. Many women cannot afford to return home or if they migrated illegally cannot resolve the logistics to get back to Ethiopia. Knowing all of this I inquired to my friends why it is so popular for Ethiopians to go work there at all and I was told:<br />
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“Yes, work in the Middle East is difficult for Ethiopian women, but not as dangerous as being poor in their own country.”<br />
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Immediately I knew this to be true but was never keen enough to make the observation on my own. A young girl without education or a supportive family is a burden and must find her own route of stability. Often teenage girls are sent to work as a house keeper (“saretena”) for another family. Here she will work 365 days a year cooking, cleaning, washing and pretending to be invisible. This family may or may not send her to school even though public education is free school takes at least 5 hours which is time they could be working at home. I have heard that some saretenas wish to become pregnant by a man in the family so as to ensure stability in their life instead of someday be let go towards an unknown future. Every household has a saretena though some use their own daughters which is why on average girls have lower grades and drop out of school at a higher frequency. On my compound we have 3 saretenas: Lomii (9 years) Salomwit (15 years) and Mimi (18yrs). Only Mimi dropped out before high school, the other Salomwit will probably quit after 10th grade (next year). Lomii is an orphan who’s parents gave her up because they could not afford to feed and cloth her, she’s only in kindergarten and I worry for her future that they might pull her out of school so that she may work full time at the house.<br />
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Seeing how women survive in Ethiopian reminds me of the pre-civil war days in my own country, but instead of race people discriminate by gender and class. Being poor is dangerous anywhere, but especially in a developing country where you will not commonly receive sympathy because for nearly 85% of the country who live on around $1 each day sympathy is too much of a luxury for those who are just trying to get by.<br />
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The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-25048351234379418852013-01-04T11:16:00.001-08:002013-01-04T11:16:11.475-08:00Long term side effects<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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30 November 2012<br />
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I am the first volunteer in my small town but I commonly meet people who are familiar with Peace Corps volunteers. Teachers tell me stories about their PC teachers who invited them to dinner, took them hiking and loved them unconditionally. Several times I have had adult men sing to me English songs that they learned from their previous volunteers. Once a store merchant asked how long I was going to live in Ethiopia and when I replied “for two years” without hesitation he responded “Oh yes, I had a Peace Corps volunteer from America 40 years ago!” They always remember the volunteers’ first and last names and a physical description. Through their stories you can see their mind wandering backwards to those memorable years though they occurred decades long before. At these moments I am especially proud to be a part of this legacy, and I hope to spark the same smile and conjure up stories many years after I leave Ethiopia.<br />
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At the end of November we had a mid-service conference and one of our sessions was led by two horticulturists who taught us how to graft fruit trees. As one gentleman introduced himself he told us his own story about a young PC volunteer from more than 40 years before. He mentioned that she was always playing with the kids, and even carried them long distances to receive medical care in different emergencies. She was compassionate, she was selfless and he remembered. As he collected his thoughts and shared his story he became overwhelmed with tears, his words interrupted as he rested his face in his hands. We all feared the worst that the story would end in tragedy, but then he lifted his head only to say “I loved her very much.” It wasn’t sadness that made him cry, but love and happiness to recall such memories.<br />
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After 11 months I will finish my volunteer service in Ethiopia. Almost daily somebody from my town asks me about that fateful day. Am I really going to just pack up and leave? Will I ever return? Will I telephone my friends in Ethiopia? Am I interested in taking their child back with me? Can’t my family just move to Ethiopia so I don’t have an excuse to leave? I would like to think that they are not counting down the days until I leave so that they can loot my house, but that my absence will be felt because I made a difference in their lives. That someday one of the kids on my street will tell a story about Bridget, the Peace Corps volunteer who helped plant all those trees at the schools, who helped Gammachu finish his last two years of school, who helped plant gardens and taught about nutrition, who played soccer with the boys, taught students about natural resource conservation. The girl we went hiking with and who danced in the streets with the kids. My day-to-day work keeps me busy in Ethiopia, but a perk would be if these projects regardless of their degrees of success had positive long term side effects.<br />
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The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4024284710380503386.post-3406896456755162602012-11-16T04:24:00.003-08:002012-11-16T04:24:53.113-08:00The circus in Adaba<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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15 November 2012<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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“Well what about television? Most of the students see things outside of their culture on television don’t they?” I asked.<br />
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“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.<br />
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----my mind was blown-----<br />
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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.<br />
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The content of this blog is the creator's own thoughts and does not represent the views or opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16187651393624965025noreply@blogger.com0