A day in the life of this PCV

8 March 2012

Early morning walk to work. 

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

“Dhena adesh” “Nagga boultanii”

“Salam no” “Akkam jirta”

“Good Morning”                                      “Dhena adarachuu”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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