Seven Days, Seven Stops

This month has been a burst of activity, as I’m sure it is for everyone during the holiday season. Most recently, I went on a little trip. Here are the highlights:

First stop: Jimma University Preparation Camp… 167 female university students coming from all over rural Ethiopia to start college. The program is designed to help them with life skills, training on HIV/AIDS and to improve their English. A fellow volunteer and I led sessions on goal-setting, confidence building and English conversation. The girls started out shy, but ended up incredibly enthusiastic.
In the Question-and-Answer at the end, they asked us why we would come from so far away to do this training. The answer was simple: because they came. They were motivated to show up on their Saturday and Sunday evenings to learn. That’s the best reason for us to teach.

Second stop: Addis Ababa… it takes 7 hours by bus to get from Jimma to Addis. We stopped in the office to fill out some paperwork, said goodbye to a few volunteers who were closing service, then went out for a little fun. There was hardly anyone out, but the music was the best I’d heard in months. We were out until 3 A.M.

Third stop: Huruta… This is the town I trained in, and lived with a family for 10 weeks. It’s a small town and the cell phone network is pretty shoddy, so my visit was incidentally a surprise. I came home to my three sisters running the family shop while our parents were working at a nearby market. They were all so genuinely excited; the looks on their faces were priceless. Going back there really felt like going home. I forgot how much I missed them.

Fourth stop: Assela… This is where our friends Joe and Kelly live, and about 20 volunteers came to celebrate Thanksgiving. Turkey is not available here, but we had another plan. I went with Joe to his Health Office, and we took a truck over to the farm project they’re working on. The profits from this farm benefit people living with HIV/AIDS. The farm has a pack of sheep. A white one was chosen, with little horns, for the price of 1,000 ETB ($55). They loaded it in the truck and brought it to a friend’s house to stay the night.
Meanwhile, we rented out the large screen projector and watched Camel Spiders dubbed in Amharic. It was a horrible movie. We had beers and made up hilarious plot lines. Then we went to the local bar and had a traditional night-before-Thanksgiving evening.
The next day, those who were so inclined joined Joe and some Ethiopian friends in preparing the sheep. (It sounds better when I say preparing, doesn’t it?) The feast was amazing. The people were awesome. Everyone was grateful. Thanksgiving was a success.

Fifth stop: Back to Addis… You pretty much have to go through Addis to get to most places in Ethiopia. We use this as an opportunity to enjoy the food, drinks and rare high-end amenities like ice cubes and toilets. There were cocktails, good music and lots of dancing.
The next morning happened to be the bi-annual Diplomats Bazaar. Addis Ababa is a hub for almost every embassy you can think of, and each had their own booth at this bazaar. They were selling local foods, drinks and trademarks from their countries. It was like a mini travel vacation around the world.

Sixth stop: Jimma… It was night when we arrived, so I couldn’t make it home. We got a room and made the best of it. Dinner, drinks, good conversations. A little music and dancing.

Last stop: Home …I’m covered in bites from fleas and/or bed bugs, and I’m pretty sure I picked up a bacterial infection… the byproducts of travel. It feels good to be home! At least for the next four days, before it’s back to Jimma for a working weekend.

Ballots, Bananas and Buna Season

I voted today! It was a weird experience, walking the dirt path to my little post office to participate in American democracy. I sat in a chair and filled in the little bubbles, then sealed it in three different envelopes and handed it over to a smiling Ethiopian postal worker. That’s it. One small gesture, and I felt American again. (Also, I noticed my uncle’s name under re-election for County Commissioner. Go Uncle Robert (Bob) Olean!)

The rest of my day was very much Ethiopian. I went to market. On the way, I passed the school. Passing the school is like setting off an alarm system. “You, you, you! Katie! Farenj!” The kids all yell. Anyone within a kilometer radius can tell when I’m coming, so I stop several times for greetings. And twice for coffee.

At the market, I found carrots, ginger, tomatoes and a few friendly faces I hadn’t seen in a while. “Tefash!” they say. You’ve been lost. “Allow,” I tell them. I’m here.

I walk back home, stopping for bananas along the way. “You!” a man says. “Give me one banana.” His broken English makes the request sound demanding. “You!” I reply back. “Buy one yourself.” And I laugh, because if you don’t laugh sometimes, it just feels irritating.

At home, our compound guard is laying the big tarp out for drying coffee. The green berries are just starting to turn red on the trees, which means it’s almost time for buna season. People will soon flock from all over the rural areas to make money picking coffee. The town fills with people heavy in the pockets with birr. Prices for everything go up and transportation gets crowded. Such is life in a cash-crop area.

 

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.

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!)

All before noon…

1. Woke up to a mosque’s call to prayer

2. Convinced 2 guys that discussing my weight is not an appropriate topic of conversation

3. Picked mangoes from a tree in my yard

4. Shook some eggs at market to see if they’re rotten

5. Ran from a crazy (or drunk?) guy asking for money

6. Recieved two limes as a gift from a farmer

7. Sat down with locals for a cup of fresh-roasted coffee

8. Planned a life skills training for a local Anti-AIDS club

9. Shooed a cow out of my yard

10. Wrote a blog entry on the craziness of life here

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.