One Final Road Trip

I’m in Addis now, watching the last of my Peace Corps-Ethiopia intake group fly away to new adventures. I still can’t believe our two years have come to an end. Some days it felt so long, I thought I’d be here forever. Most months flew by, recognizable only in the rearview mirror.

One thing I’ve long had on my Ethiopia bucket list is a visit to the holy city of Lalibela. It’s the largest attraction in Ethiopia: A UNESCO World Heritage Site of 11 giant churches carved from the ground into bedrock. King Lalibela ordered their construction as a second Jerusalem, providing pilgrims a shorter distance of travel. The churches are nearly a thousand years old, and are said to have been carved in 25 days. Legend says it was through the help of angels that they were carved so quickly and beautifully.

Now that my time in Ethiopia is nearing the end, I decided it was time to go. Now or never. My Ethiopian friend, who has also never seen the churches, and I set out on a bus two Thursdays ago. Seven hours later we were in Addis, and the next morning we got on a bus to Dessie.

The first two to three hours of the trip felt exhaustively long. Four, five, six, seven, eight… we had had enough. It was the slowest bus I’ve probably ever been on. We exited early in a town called Kombulcha and collapsed at the nearest hotel. Once recovered, we visited the local Castle beer brewery, and the next morning we perused the local market. We saw giant mangos, textiles and camels, large tarp sacks covered with teff grains, and a bustling population weaving in and out through the narrow paths. Every town’s market has its own unique character.

After two straight days on a bus, we decided to take a day off and travel just an hour up to Dessie. We got our tickets for the next morning to Lalibela. Five-thirty A.M. rolled around and we were packed with our bags at the bus station in another small, crowded bus. We drove for seven hours up winding roads. Small plots of land were planted all over the mountainous countryside, with rock terraces built up to prevent watershed. Little round mud huts spotted the land. Occasionally we braked for small herds of long-horned cattle, skinny ribs poking through their hides. A few times we spotted a dead ox lying roadside covered in flies. A sign, we were told, of the recent drought.

We finally reached Lalibela in the early afternoon. We got a hotel and wandered around the quaint little town. It was definitely responsive to the influx of tourists it receives, having little souvenir shops on every corner and exploiting the costs on “Ethiopian coffee ceremony.” A small cup that costs 2 birr in Jimma was priced at 15 in one local cafe.

Regardless, I enjoyed the town. I came expecting a higher level of harassment, and instead was greeted with mostly “hello.” The pace of the town felt slowed down, with little of the hustle and bustle I see in other towns. Huge mountains loomed as a backdrop, and a light fog floated near the tops in the distance.

Me, in front of one of the 11 rock-hewn churches.

Day two in Lalibela, we found some breakfast and made our way over to find the churches. Ten minutes into walking and I was already feeling run down. We walked further and further, up hills and down, asking directions and getting pointed into different directions. By the time we reached the entrance, I was feeling nauseas. Clearly I was not used to the elevation.

At the ticket office, I paid a non-negotiable 937 birr. That’s the cost of about 75 meals. It’s more than 3 times the average cost of rent in a month. It’s a price reserved only for foreigners, and my resident ID card did not trump the color of my white skin. I winced as I counted out each 100 birr note. I tucked away the most expensive piece of paper I’ve ever bought. My Ethiopian friend entered for free.

Bete Giyorigis: My favorite of the rock churches.

It took quite a few minutes to get over my nausea, at both the elevation and the cost of my ticket. But once we started climbing down the rock walls into the churches, I felt the awe. The churches were much taller than I had imagined, carved from a single rock. Doors, windows and beautiful designs were etched into the surface. We removed our shoes to step inside, and felt the cavernous silence surround us.

My friend, walking through a rock tunnel.

Outside, we walked through narrow rock tunnels from one massive church to the next. My favorite, and the most well-known of the churches, was Bete Giyorgis (The church of St. George). It’s cross-like shape descends down into a deep crevasse, and looks flatly visible from the ground above. Inside, we saw both ancient and modern paintings of St. George, all slaying a dragon to save a fair maiden.

We finished touring the churches by late afternoon, and were both exhausted. We bought our bus tickets for the next morning, with a departure time of 4:30 A.M. The thought of that alarm gave me shivers, but I didn’t let it ruin our last night. We spent the evening at a local Asmari Bet, a popular tradition in the Amahara region. They served t’ej (home-brewed honey wine) and had a man and woman team playing a cultural guitar and singing impromptu lyrics to the patrons. The lyrics were either flattering or insulting, depending on tips, but almost always comical. Two men played giant drums in the background, and another man performed cultural shoulder dancing. (If you’ve never seen their dance style, check it out here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mrYLvcHF15U)
As the night was just kicking off, the dancing man came and stood directly in front of me, indicating for me to join him. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into the center of the room. It was a repeat-after-me sort of gesture, and I shook my shoulders in response, along to the music. It was a nervous rush, with so many eyes staring, and I having no idea how I was doing. My friend said it was amazing, he was shocked that I could do that. Whether or not this was flattery, I guess I’ll never know. But it felt exhilarating.

We stayed until early evening, then called it a night in anticipation for our early departure. The time came too soon, and we walked with our bags in the moonlight to the bus station, 20 minutes down the mountain. A small boy saved us a good seat for the price of 10 birr. The bus finally departed at 6 A.M. and we arrived in a small town before Dessie in early afternoon.

The town, called Haiyke, is home to a lake and a monastery. We decided to stay the night there and check it out. The rain ended up foiling our plans, and instead we spent the evening with no water, no power and searching for a decent meal. The town had practically nothing. I woke up early the next morning ready to leave. My friend wanted to sleep, so we met late morning in Dessie. We caught a mini bus to Kemisse, a low-land Muslim town about 2 hours away. We arrived around 10:30 A.M. with the sun already beating hot. Dust covered the streets, and cafes were boarded up due to Ramadan.

We arranged another mini bus to a town called Debre Birhan, 130 km from Addis. The mini bus experience was infinitely better than our normal slow bus experience on the way up. We were in Debre Birhan by early evening and found a decent hotel with a hot shower and good food. The town itself though was freezing. I would have liked to see a little more of the city, but the cold, foggy rain imprisoned me to the warm blankets of my bed.

We left late the next morning and were back in Addis by noon. My friend continued on to Jimma, and I stayed in Addis to treat a sinus infection I picked up along the way. I’m also doing my close-of-service medical tests and bidding farewell to my friends who are leaving.

I’ll be in Ethiopia for two more months, until early October, when I depart for India. It’s been my dream to do a yoga teacher training course, and I’m signed up to start October 7th. After the 6 weeks I plan to explore the rest of India, making it back home to snowy Minnesota by Christmas. I’m not going to lie, the thought of winter has me terrified. But I’ll see my family and friends for the first time in over two years. I hope they have their heaters turned up! I can’t wait to see them all.

Peace Corps Ethiopia Invades Addis

Peace Corps Volunteers of Ethiopia 2013

Originally, I was nervous for an All Volunteer Conference. There are about 200 volunteers in Ethiopia now: more than double the number here when I arrived. I spend almost every day surrounded by local people or alone in my house. The thought of suddenly being dunked into a pool of hundreds of farenji was intimidating.

As it turns out, the event was remarkable. Overwhelming, yes, but also exciting. Names and faces and regions and group members all started adding up. More than anything though, it was the first time all of the people I arrived in country with (minus those we’ve lost along the way) have been together since we swore in as volunteers almost 2 years ago. Catching up with them was amazing. It’s hard to believe that our G5-ers have only one more group event together before we all leap from our Ethiopian nests this summer.

As for the conference: Friday night was a dinner at the Ghion hotel. The U.S. Ambassador of Ethiopia joined us. We were all dressed up. (It’s amazing what PCVs can look like with a hot shower and some clean clothes.) The Ambassador gave a brief talk on the state of development in Ethiopia, and how Peace Corps fits in with that.

Saturday was a full schedule of events designed to help us meet each other, learn about the cross-benefits of working with different sectors (environment, education and health), and get information from different committees.
Saturday night, the talented members among us took the stage for a talent show. It sounds a little juvenile, but the show was wildly entertaining. (Who knew we could save the world AND bust out rap?) Even our country director participated with some folk songs he wrote himself.
After the talent show, the bulk of us wandered out to the nearest club and stayed out way past our 9 o’clock bedtimes.

Sunday came far too early. None-the-less, we learned about PEPFAR and Food for the Future: Two initiatives that sponsor HIV/AIDS related programs and food security. Afterwards we broke into regional groups to plan this year’s summer GLOW camps. Almost all of the volunteers I worked with at the Nekempte camp last year have decided to participate again, which is awesome because we had an amazing group. We’ve also got some new G7 and G8 members I’m excited to get to know.
And finally, we gathered for closing remarks. They weren’t your average closing remarks. In fact, they’re hilarious. Check out the video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=auBHtyTYcYw&feature=youtu.be

I went to dinner Sunday night with eight or so friends to a local Indian restaurant. Six of these friends had recently been to India and continue to make me more excited to go. After a long and delicious family-style meal, we met up with the rest of our crew. From India to Ireland, we went to celebrate St. Patty’s Day at our favorite local beer bar. One of the volunteers had gone all-out in decorations: Green glitter, green coasters, green everything. There was even green beer. The Ethiopian staff not only accomodated us, they full-on participated in our greeness. It was a great cultural exchange, even if it wasn’t entirely our culture to exchange.

Laura and I, getting our St. Patricks Day on.

Monday was supposed to be our departure date, but a change in the bus schedule kept us in Addis an extra night. Thirteen of us filled the bus on Tuesday and we shared one last dinner in Jimma before arriving to our own beds Wednesday night.

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.

Teaching Girls to GLOW

Camp GLOW, Nekemte, Ethiopia

Last week, 34 girls came together from seven different communities for a life-changing experience I will never forget.Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) is a camp for girls organized by Peace Corps volunteers  all over the world. This year, I worked with 10 other volunteers to create a Camp GLOW in  Nekemte, Ethiopia. This camp comprised of 9th and 10th grade girls from the southwest regions of the country. For most of them, it was their first time ever leaving home.

The camp started Sunday when we all gathered at the university. It took many of us several hours by bus to arrive. As the girls began meeting, they were mostly silent. They simply stared, uncertain and shy.

The first day, we organized them all into rooms and assigned each an animal group: Eagles, Elephants, Lions and Monkeys. A few counslers were assigned to each group and the process of getting to know each other began.

Sunday night was a lot of figuring out logistics and setting the ground rules. The girls got pink tote bags with journals and a few toiletries. They were given journal prompts every night and wrote in them just before bed.

During journal time, counslers met to discuss the upcoming day. We had programming all planned out weeks ahead of time. Still, life throws out obstacles and plans change. We hung giant charts on the wall for each day and had cards with each session taped on. Cards were switched around like a puzzle as we discussed what was working, what wasn’t, and what the realities of our time were. Contingincies were planned on top of contingincies. And even those changed.

Camp days started early and ended late, and each was filled with different events. There were skits on peer pressure, “girl talk” about sexual health, games to teach about HIV and some games just for fun. We had sessions to practice leadership and how to build teamwork. We taught about fuel-efficient cooking methods and learned how to plant trees. We had crafts to make useful items, and crafts that were just for fun. We had a day to visualize the future, created goals and planned out how to take lessons from camp back home. The last night was a giant bonfire, where the girls had their first taste of s’mores and wrote inspiring messages to each other in their journals. We sang songs, gave awards and recognized everyone for their hard work.

There is so much that can be said about this camp. The girls who started out so silent and shy were raising their hands to be leaders by the end. Girls who could mindlessly recite the use of condoms in HIV prevention actually saw one for the first time, and learned how to properly use it. They discovered first-hand the power of believing in yourself and had an opportunity to ask questions they never could before. It was overwhelming to see the transformation in every single one of them.

With all of the great things that came out of this camp, you’d think it went off without a hitch. That, however, could not be further from the truth. The latrines we had to use were up a muddy hill and covered in filth, our meal plans fell through, it rained at all the wrong times and we were out of running water for three days. I fell in the mud, twice, and got locked in a room for over an hour.  There were three different languages being spoken and time was consistantly misjudged.

Yet despite the setbacks, every counsler remained calm, optomistic and helpful. Problem-solving was an ongoing skill and everyone pulled together with enthusiasm. Honestly, the patient teamwork of every counsler was inspiring. And we couldn’t have done alone. Four Ethiopian counterparts, as well as three junior counslers, were indespensible. It was one miraculous team putting on one miraculous event. And it was truely unforgettable.

If you’d like to see the camp in action, here’s a link to some photos:

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10100298431338561.2388771.56008677&type=1&l=e3b11fe1cb

Bless the rains

Rainy season has been in full force for a few weeks now. After a few months of non-stop travel, I finally made it back to site long enough to do some laundry. The thing about rainy season is though, it rains. And rains. And rains. So it took a few good days of hanging my clothes out, watching the clouds, bringing them in, waiting for the rain to stop, hanging them out, etc. before I eventually had clean clothes to wear.

The other thing about rainy season is mud. Lucky for me, Agaro has a paved road through town that makes walking less of a slip-and-slide goo fest. The dirt road to the market, however, requires my giant mud boots and a patience for getting dirty.

Aside from wet clothes and mud, I kind of like this season. The sun cools down behind the clouds and I actually feel kind of cold. (Fully realizing I’m screwed if I ever plan on re-visiting a Minnesota winter.)

I also love that the rain brings fresh everything. Almost everything is in season right now. Most abundantly are the mangoes that drip from every tree. The trees are rather huge, so the people on my compound have fashioned a giant wooden pole with a nail sticking from the end. Every morning the compound guard and a neighbor take turns finding the ripe mangoes and  leaving  them in my window. They certainly make me smile.

How to Save a Life

I’m pretty sure my previous posts have updated y’all on how fanatic I am about my mosquito net. It’s my little wall of protection from all that goes buzz in the night. Unfortunately not everyone realizes the awe-inspiring power that it is. People here die every day from malaria; it’s the number one killer in Africa. The President’s Malaria Initiative (PMI) and the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) work continuously to distribute nets, but the number of people actually using them is still too low. And that’s unfortunate, because one child dies every 45 seconds from a disease that could be prevented.

I did a training yesterday with a group of students about malaria and bed net usage. All of the students reported having bed nets, but less than half raised their hands to say they use them. We made a poster both in English and Amharic to highlight six important facts about malaria, and read them each aloud.

1. Malaria is a preventable disease that can kill you.
2. Malaria is transmitted by a specific type of mosquito that primarily bites at night.
3. Malaria symptoms are: fever, headache, chills, vomiting and other flu-like symptoms.
4. Malaria should be treated at the health center immediately.
5. Mosquito nets prevent malaria.
6. Everyone should sleep under a mosquito net, every night, all year long.

Afterwards we had a discussion and answered questions. One girl asked me about malaria in America. I told her–with the utmost encouragement–that malaria used to be a problem there, but it was eliminated through the use of bed nets, medicines and insecticides. We can do the same in Africa, if everyone takes part.

I asked them again how many will use their bed nets and almost everyone raised their hands. (The others requested help, and we planned a follow-up training on how to hang a net.) Wiping out malaria is a large and overwhelming ambition. But if even one of these kids decides to sleep under a mosquito net tonight, we’re making progress.

April 25 is World Malaria Day. Celebrate. Spread the word.

Sunday Dinner

Earlier this week I was approached by someone in town who wanted to talk. We had coffee, and by the end of the week I had met half his extended family and spent an entire Sunday having dinner at their house. I realize from an American standpoint, this seems rather strange. Maybe downright creepy. Here, it’s a part of life. Ethiopians have an amazing knack for hospitality and I’m consistently touched by their generosity. Though we’re separated by race, religion, language and ethnicity, I’ve never felt so close to family.
(And yep.. that’s a fridge in the background. Some families have it made!)