Failing in Love

6 June 2012

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

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

…. The following day…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… The following night at 10pm…

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

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

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

Trial and error

22 May 2012

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

Sesbania seedling growing strong!

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

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

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

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

High School boys filling poly pots at the tree nursery.

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

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

A day in the life of this PCV

8 March 2012

Early morning walk to work. 

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

“Dhena adesh” “Nagga boultanii”

“Salam no” “Akkam jirta”

“Good Morning”                                      “Dhena adarachuu”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Melkam Fasica!

15 April 2012

Happy Easter from Ethiopia!

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

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

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

This picture was cropped. You're welcome!

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

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

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

Nani breaking up the blood chunks.

Jack enjoying some goat blood goulash for breakfast.

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

Mobaylii Koo Na Bilbiltii

13 April 2012

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

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

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

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

“HELLO! baby. Where where are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

Rude or not rude?

5 April 2012

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

·         Remarking about weight gain (Not rude)

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

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

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

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

Photos from Hawassa

3 April 2012

Here are some photos from Hawassa. All of my fellow PC environment volunteers gathered together for training and to celebrate our 6 months in Ethiopia

Nap time at the orphanage

Me trying to discourage the monkey from joining our training.

My work counterpart  Zewditu and me at training

Colobus monkeys outside our hotel room.

Colobus monkey with baby (less than 2 weeks old) browsing a hibiscus plant.

Katheryn and me on Lake Hawassa for my birthday hippo excursion.

Proof that I did see hippos in the wild!