She’s Hot and She’s Cold

Today I decided to make a trip to the market, and spend some time in my kitchen. It’s weird to think this is the only time in my life I’ve ever had my own kitchen. (Ok, so maybe it’s a hallway with a table and a propane tank hooked up to a stove top. But still, it’s mine.) And I have my own bathroom, and my own room. And I can walk around naked if I want. And after living here for more than two years, I’m packing things up and heading into a new unknown adventure.

It’s not the first time I’ve done this. It’s not even the fifth time I’ve done this. In the last 10 years, I’ve been doing nothing BUT packing and moving. In fact, this is the longest I’ve lived in one place since graduating high school. Scary.
What’s really scary, is that no matter how many times I pack up and head into the unknown, it still makes me jittery. I end up laying awake at night, and fretting through the day. I know I’m doing the right thing, things always work out, blah blah blah. I’m still nervous.

What’s next for me… I’ve decided to go to India and do a 6 1/2 week yoga teacher training course. If you know me, you know this is pretty much what I was born to do. I’ve been heading towards this since my first downward-facing dog. The flight from Ethiopia to India is cheaper than I could ever get it from the States, and the flight from India to the States is cheaper than I could ever get it from Ethiopia. So basically, the universe is saying do it. I’m incredibly excited. But also, India is crazy populated and I’m wondering, what the heck am I getting myself into? I’ve spent the last two years getting to know a completely foreign culture, and now I’m about to dive head-first into another completely foreign culture. I’m a little exhausted.

Or maybe not.

Maybe I’ve just been stagnating a little too long, and I’ve forgotten the rush of new sites, sounds, foods and smells. I look at pictures of India and I get an instant smile. Like a dog being tempted with treats, I’m drooling on the inside. This is coming up, this is really happening!

And then.

I start to pack, and it’s like a river of memories from the last two years. I pack all the things in different piles that I’m giving away, and then I picture what it will be like saying goodbye to all of the people and places I’ve made home for the last two years. I have a best friend here who’s been my other half for the last 10 months. Will it be the last time we ever see each other? Maybe. I have a trip planned next week to visit my host family for the last time. It was hard saying goodbye to them the first time. This time.. Oh boy.

One of the great things about moving around and exploring is that you’re always meeting new and amazing people. One of the hard things about moving around and exploring is that you’re always saying goodbye to amazing people. I think this time just might break my heart. I’m hoping to put it back together in India. And what’s next after that you ask? I’m wondering the same thing.

Bump in the Night

When I was preparing for Peace Corps, one of the things I read over and over were about problems with rats. It freaked me out a little. I packed cat treats and hoped for the best. I’ve lived at site now for 18 months, listening with a sympathetic ear to my fellow volunteers who struggle with rats. I thought I lucked out.

Then, after returning from a two-week trip, I had a suspicion something wasn’t right. At night, when I turned out the lights, I heard a scratching, chewing noise. The back of my mind said rats, while the rest insisted it was nothing.

Two nights later, I awoke to a crash. I thought maybe it was my neighbors, but the back of my mind told me again that it was rats. That morning, I found my candle stick laying on the floor. Coincidence? Maybe it just fell.

Then I found hard evidence. A piece of fruit was sitting on my counter with its flesh half-exposed. Little pieces of the skin were laying all around it, and there were trails of dust bunnies on the counter. Closer inspection of the fruit revealed flat-edged teeth marks. The optimistic side of me said it could have been a mouse. The back of my mind said rats. I searched around for more evidence, but found nothing. I tried to forget the incident, hoping that the critter had moved on.

Just around dusk, when it was time to close the doors and windows, I saw a grey body with a distinct snake-like tail float across my floor. No more lies, no more guessing. It was definately a rat. I got the broom and  thought perhaps I could chase it out. Instead, it disappeared thorugh the narrow space between my bed and the floor.

All I could think to do was call my landlord, who lives next door. He came right over with a stick and moved my bed. The rat came scurrying out and headed straight toward my feet. I screamed. Then it darted under another door. Unfortunately it was a locked door to which we didn’t have the key.

The next step, my landlord brought over a trap. He toasted some bread to create an alluring scent. We set up a table and some boxes around to help guide it toward the trap. And I waited. By 7:30 it was dark and I was losing hope. I closed my door and resigned myself to the idea that I’d be spending the night with a rat. 

Around 8:30, a friend called. I was just about to lament my troubles to her, when I heard a loud snap. I hung up the phone and called my landlord. I listened to the painful sounds of struggle, and then silence. My landlord showed up within minutes and inspected. Sure enough, the rat was caught. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and thanked him about a hundred times.

This whole fiasco was over so quickly. I have many Peace Corps friends who have ongoing struggles with rats. They find rat-torn packages, chewed up plastic and entrails everywhere. To them, I salute. Peace Corps is not easy.

Market Day Quandaries

Today I am thinking of going to the market. I haven’t gone in months.

When I first got to site, I went every market day, 3 times a week. Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday I would go with my plastic bag down the dusty road, through all the people and the shops to the place tucked back in the deep part of town. I’d follow the same path, stop for coffee at the same place. I’d greet the same people, and sometimes new ones. I’d buy carrots, tomatoes or onions, garlic, ginger, sometimes beans, once in awhile beets or potatoes. I’d always leave with a sack full of things and walk back through the crowded streets.
Women on the ground selling fruit from tarps would sometimes tempt me to stop and add something.

At home, I would experiment with cooking elaborate meals of stews and chili, or different stir fries.

After awhile I became exhausted of it. My appetite decreased, both for the food and the stimulation of all the people. I resorted to eating oatmeal and bananas, scrambled eggs… anything simple and available nearby.

Even now, I wonder if I’ll really go to market. It sounds daunting. At some point the novelty of being a novelty wears off. When you’re here long enough, you just want to live your own life, not under the guise that everyone projects of you. It can make you jaded, cynical I think. You begin to brush off a simple greeting, your mind so focused on being done and getting home. You question every hello as a possible request for money or sexual harassment. And deep down that part of you that really likes people, that loves to connect and socialize, gets stifled. It becomes lost and suppressed under your barrier of protection. I feel it. I feel it all the time. When I recognize it, I pull the barrier down, just a little. I smile at people. I take my time to crouch down and greet the kids. I look them in the eyes and ask how they are, what their name is. Then I repeat it back to them, as best I can, to show that I understand. They giggle at the sound of their name in my voice. Their laughter relaxes me, and I continue on a little lighter.

I realize that moments like those are passed every day. I just have to take the time. It’s about getting out of my head and letting others in. The requests for money, the lewd comments from guys who are high on khat… those will never go away. But I shouldn’t let them steal away all the moments of happiness that lurk inside the cracks.

Along Came a Spider

I love holidays. And so, in the spirit of Halloween, eight of us volunteers gathered in Bonga to celebrate. Pumpkin-carving, pinatas, scary movies and Halloween cocktails made the weekend feel like a legit October celebration. I came home feeling fully fulfilled.

I unpacked my stuff and settled into bed with my netbook. As I was reading updates of all that I’d missed through the weekend, something caught the corner of my eye. I looked up and saw a large black body creeping across my floor.

My heart began racing. It wasn’t a mouse, although it looked like the size of one. A giant cricket? I  tried desperately to think of an explanation for something other than what I knew it was.

I set down my computer and got up to take a closer look. It stopped behind the leg of a chair, so I couldn’t quite see its whole body. But the long legs of a giant spider were in plain view. I yelled at myself, be brave, be brave, be brave… holy shit! What do I do?!

I thought quickly through my options… fly swatter.. roach spray. That’s all I had.
Roach spray. I could stay far enough away and not have to make any physical contact. I tip-toed to the table with the spray and hurried back to my room. The monster was still there. Ok, ok. Be brave. I crouched down as near as I dared and started spraying.

Immediately it sprang from its hiding place and crawled across my floor to the other chair. I jumped back screaming, still holding down the button. I can’t honestly remember what came out of my mouth, but  I couldn’t stop screaming.

Soon I heard my neighbor’s voice from the next room. “Kay-tee?”  I tried in my best Amharic to explain: Huge insect! Spider. Huge!

At this point the giant was perched steady on my chair, somewhat stunned from the spray but certainly not dead. I thought in thirty different directions. I reached for my camera and turned it on, took a few steps near it, then threw it down and ran away screaming. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit… it’s all I remember thinking. I grabbed my phone and unlocked the keys, stared at it, then threw that down because who the hell am I going to call?

I got my fly swatter from the wall and stepped slowly towards it. Nope! Nope, nope, nope, nope. Holy shit! Be brave. I was sweating and my heart was pounding and I felt myself shaking. I could barely breathe, which was probably good because the room was filled with roach spray. It felt like hours as I stared at it, tried to get close, then ran away cursing.

Finally my neighbor and another man came to my door. I pointed to the cause of my commotion and she looked around for more. “No, there!” I told her. She pointed her light at it, then continued looking. “There, there, there!” I yelled. I realize now that she just didn’t believe a spider was the cause of all my panic. The guy she brought with chuckled, walked up to it with my fly swatter and slapped it, scooped it up and walked out.

Ten minutes later I was still shaking, trying to get the image out of my mind and trying even harder not to question whether there were more. I wrapped my mosquito net around my bed and sat under it. Dear God, don’t let there be more.

There was no going to the bathroom that night. There was no leaving my bed. Every time I woke up, I saw the image of it creeping across my floor. Was it really that big? Where did it come from? What if there’s more? I try to tell myself I’ve faced the fear, it’s over.
I guess that’s Happy Halloween.