Sleeping with the enemy

I tried to convince myself these itchy bumps were mosquito bites. I really hoped mosquitoes were somehow infiltrating my net.  I can kid myself no more. Two days ago I spotted a leaping little speck on my bed. Later on I found another on my leg. Closer inspection confirmed my fears: I have fleas. I don’t know how these unwelcome little house guests made their way in, but they’re officially ruining my night’s sleep. Every little tickle sends me scrambling to the flashlight for inspection. Of course it’s futile since they’re almost microscopic and can leap over a foot. The only proof that I’m not going crazy are the tiny little bumps all over my feet and ankles. Their size is misleading: They itch like a bitch. Naturally I turned straight to Google for more information. The leading advice: Get an exterminator. I can say with straight certainty I won’t be finding one of those anywhere around here. So.. I guess I’m feeding a family of fleas for awhile. And another little fun bit of info:  They carry Typhus. I know a few volunteers in my group who have already had it. If the itching doesn’t keep me up at night, the thought of contracting Typhus will. I’m almost positive this will be one of those funny Peace Corps stories to look back on… almost.

Growing

I have no urgent desire to be a parent or have kids. (Sorry Mom.) And my recent effort to adopt a kitten lasted one day. Here’s my last attempt at being responsible for a living thing. Since they won’t be peeing in my house or dragging raw meat under my bed, I’m feeling optimistic. 

Be grateful your laundry day doesn’t look like this…

When my clothes get dirty (which inevitably happens here quickly) I have 2 options. One: Go around town in search of someone who wants to make a few extra birr, set an appointment for them to come to my house, and wait for that person who may or may not show up. Possibly repeat.  Or two: Get out the buckets and start scrubbing.

I’m sure you’re probably thinking option two sounds simpler. My guess is, you’ve never had to wash a whole load of clothes by hand before. This is my most loathed chore, and if nothing else, has taught me what a miraculous invention washing machines are.

A Carnivore’s Dilemma

The dish of choice for fasting season.

It’s been awhile, so I’m trying to resist a lengthy 3 month update and instead fill you in on a current issue.

As most of you know it’s Lent right now… meatless Fridays for practicing Catholics. Here, the Ethiopian Orthodox Christians take Lent a bit further by making every day Friday. No meat, no animal products… strictly vegan for two months. I’m not Orthodox, but my lack of veil means everyone generally assumes or accepts that I’m Christian. Being a non-Orthodox Christian, I don’t need to fast. Apparently though, I do need to pay attention to the symbols outside of restaurants. A look of shock and hurt came over my poor Orthodox friend’s face when I told him where I had my lunch. I guess I missed the crescent moon and star outside. It was a Muslim place, and Christians do not eat Muslim meat.

I feel bad for disappointing my friend, and for the confusion that I probably sent around town. At the same time, I feel unfairly held to their religious expectations. Meat is meat in my religion. Should I pretend that it’s not? Boycott all the Muslim restaurants in town for some fake display of Christianity? I respect their culture in every way possible (just check out the farmer’s tan on these shoulders!) but this is one issue I’m drawn on. Rumors fly here faster than Hollywood. Do I apologize for my oversight and refrain from Muslim restaurants? Or do I follow my own heart in not pretending?

Honestly, I’ll probably avoid Muslim meat from now on; I don’t like it enough to face the drama. But it’s got me thinking: Where do we draw the line between adapting to culture and following our own beliefs? Isn’t pretending, in a way, also a lie?

Baking and Plumbers

It’s about Christmastime… Two weeks, right? You could have fooled me. (Where does the time go?!) In my bright and sunny Muslim town, very few things say “Christmas” around here. I do have a little tree that helps, and some occasional iPod jams to invoke the spirit. I also made a grand attempt at baking yesterday. Mind you, we have no ovens. This endeavor was dutch oven-esque, using a big pot, some rocks and a smaller pot. I’m happy to say the event was a success. The best part was giving it away. Common as it may seem, banana bread is a novel treat here.

And speaking of cooking endeavors, I also made my first burgers yesterday. This is big for me. I’m not really a meat person in general, and especially not when you have to see the hanging carcass as you buy it. But I did it. And I’m not going to lie, it was an experiment. But I think they were OK. Peace Corps goal #3 is sharing American culture with Ethiopia, so I invited a habesha friend over to try them. And… he may or may not have eaten them to appease me.

The other fun news going on here is that I moved to a new house. Still in Agaro, just down the hill. The place is cute and cozy and I love it. Except for the plumbing. I was really excited to get an actual bathroom with a toilet, but I’ve learned to be careful what I wish for. After five appointments with the plumber (a term I use loosely), my toilet is still quite broken. The original problem was flushing… the new problem is leaking. A constant drip fills buckets on the hour. Guess I can’t complain about no water.

Welcome to Agaro

There were tourists in my town yesterday! I was walking with a friend, when three farenjis stepped out of a jeep. I’m not used to seeing other white people in Agaro, so I was very Ethiopian-like in my curiousity.  I assumed they were from some NGO in Jimma, the next biggest town over. Nope! Turns out, they were French tourists. Tourists. Meaning they weren’t here to try and fix anything. They weren’t here for research. They were merely here to see the town, and the beautiful birthplace of coffee.

I found this video, randomly, while working on my Community Needs Assesment. I couldn’t quite get it all to load here with my speedy cdma internet, but thought it might be fun to post anyway. It’s centered on the main streets of town. The rural areas not shown are where the lush, green beauty is… but I love this town. All of it.

Connected!

This past weekend my former site mate finished his service, leaving me all alone in Agaro.. along with his CDMA internet device. So I’m online! I can’t promise this will mean more updates, but I’ll try. Thanks to everyone who has written so far. You’ve brightened my days, and insured a strong friendship with Agaro’s postal workers.

It’s been three months since I came to site. Hard to believe, it goes by so fast. Then again.. there were 2 weeks in there that involved no water. That time went by a little slower. But I’ve had a great time exploring the town and getting to know people. “You!” and “Farenji!” are starting to morph into various forms of my name. Kachi.. Kari.. Kateem. I enjoy their efforts. To be honest, the best thing about this town are the people. I can sit down at any one of a hundred coffee stands here and find interesting conversation. Most people are generous in their welcome and have given me a lot of insight. After only a few months, my perceptions continuously change, and I expect they’ll continue as I make myself at home.