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.

Four Months of Madness

There are times in Peace Corps when I can sit in my room and listen to the mosque calling, the birds chirping, and the music blaring from the café across from my house. I can stare at my wall, write, read a book, do yoga, and stare at my wall some more.

Then there are times when I’m swooped up by a whirlwind of projects, events and what we so frequently refer to  here as ‘programs.’ The last four months have been part of that whirlwind.

It all started in April with the celebration of World Malaria Day. This yearly event was celebrated by the Ethiopian government in a small village near my house. One of my Program Assistants traveled down from Addis to attend. We spent the first day in Jimma, listening to research results and project outcomes from organizations around the nation. Then we traveled to a rural village for a tour of a local health post and to learn about the process of residual spraying. As we drove up the road, hundreds of kids lined the street clapping and cheering for us. It felt like the welcoming of royalty.

After the tour, the local people had tables set up with a variety of traditional foods to taste. It was a huge event for the rural women, and it was fun to see their excitement.

On the last of the 3-day celebration, chairs were lined under a tent in a field, and numerous people participated in music, speeches, dramas and acrobatics to spread the word for anti-malarial efforts. We came home with a T-shirt, and a small container of locally-made mosquito repellent.

The next big event was in May. A few volunteers and I designed and led a 5-day facilitation workshop for 29 female lecturers from 3 universities. The training was part of the University Preparation Camp project that I’ve been working on over the past year, helping to support first-year female university students. Originally, two Peace Corps Volunteers and I were in charge of leading student trainings. Our new objective was to give teachers the skills and confidence to facilitate discussions on their own. The training was centered on 11 topics, including self-esteem, leadership, reproductive health and HIV/AIDS.

I came to the training expecting a group of shy, reserved Ethiopian women. Instead, I was met with a group of engaged, thought-provoking  leaders. The women were inspiring.

Next was our Close-of-Service conference, which started May 27. Close-of Service. That means that the 5th group of Peace Corps volunteers who came to Ethiopia two years ago are preparing to go home.

The G5 Jimma Loopers (minus Chelsea and Laura)

Our group came in with 69 volunteers, and lost about a third of them along the way. The surviving members met in Addis and proceeded down to Lake Langano for one last week of memories. Our sessions focused on job searching and readjusting. Our free time consisted of Whiffle ball, beer pong, massages and relaxing by the pool. On our last night, we celebrated with a bon fire and sheep roast, a guitar around the fire, and sharing all of the embarrassing and hilarious experiences we’ve had.

Directly after COS, I traveled with 8 spectacular volunteer friends to visit The Once-Forbidden City of Harrar.

After Harrar, I had three days to kill in Addis while I waited for my friend Amanda to fly in from America. I thought perhaps I would use these days to take it easy and rest up. Instead, I stayed with a friend and had two adventurous nights at big parties, and re-visited a lesson I learned too many times in college.

Amanda flew in Sunday morning, and we went straight from the airport to Mercado. (Mercado = sketchy, crowded bus station) She jumped right into the Ethiopian experience by having to bum-rush a bus and fight for a seat, then sit for hours while the bus stopped a hundred times along the way for ch’at.  We made it to Agaro by nightfall.

The next three days were spent touring my little town, trying the food and participating in a coffee ceremony at a local teacher’s house. It was everything I loved about Ethiopia, and it was fun to be able to share it.

The last part of her trip included a visit to Hawassa, a beautiful lake-side city in Ethiopia. It was a 15-hour journey from Agaro, and we made it all in one day. (She’s a total champ.)

In Hawassa, we visited the fish market, hand-fed some monkeys, laid out by the infinity pool and ate a lot of good food. During her stay, the Ethiopian soccer team beat South Africa for a spot in the World Cup Tournament and the whole city paraded in excitement.

Her 10-day visit was over far too soon.

I’m back in Agaro now, and it’s been non-stop camp-planning mode ever since. Tomorrow I leave for this year’s Nekempte Camp GLOW. (Camp GLOW 2012 ). And yesterday I found out I have amoebas.

There’s certainly never a dull moment here.

Minibus Moments

Some of my most hilarious moments happen in minibuses. It’s about 45 kilometers from Agaro to Jimma, and I’ve made the trip dozens of times for trainings, on the way to Addis, or to meet up with other Peace Corps volunteers. It never fails on these trips, if I’m in the front seat, the driver will have something to say. Most recently, my driver thought it would be best for me if he played American music. He had two songs and played each one on repeat, as loud as he could, dancing as he drove. When we would stop, people on the street would call out to me, “Farenji! Where are you from?” Before I had a second to answer, the driver would respond, “She’s Ethiopian! Speak to her in Amharic, she doesn’t know English!” Then we would speed off singing, Where is the Love?

In another recent minibus experience, the driver and I were familiar with each other. We had had a short talk on another ride. He told me his name was Reagan, which is a strange name in Ethiopia. I asked him what it meant (names almost always have meaning here) and he said that his father just liked President Reagan. As his assistant was filling the seats, he insisted that the middle seat next to me remain open because I was his regular customer. (For anyone who has ever been packed in a minibus, this is a small gesture that makes a huge difference.) The driver would lose fare on the seat he left open.

As we were driving, we stopped near someone selling bananas. He asked if I needed any, because they were good quality. I did need some, and was glad to skip a trip to the market. Before I knew it he had purchased a kilo, and refused to take my payment. The cost was roughly the same as the minibus ride. He said my fare was enough.

When we got to Agaro, I said thank you and good-bye, and left with an overall feeling of gratitude for the people in this world that make me smile, for the acts of kindness that mean more than their monetary value, and for the laughs that are shared with complete strangers.

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.

Ten Bits of Traveling Fun

This is Dave, waiting for our bus (way back there on the right) to be fixed.

1. Hotel beds have bugs. (Fleas? Mosquitoes? I don’t know!) They itch.

2. Sometimes you have to be up at 5 a.m. to fight for a bus, and sometimes you have to wait hours for it to leave. And sometimes when you’re 20 minutes outside your destination, it will break down for 2 and a half hours.

3. People throw up on the buses. If you’re lucky, they’ll ask for a bag.

4. Drivers like to pack the bus as full as possible, often past the legal limit. When traffic cops stop them, they’ll argue over the ticket for hours. Everyone waits.

5. Windows only open to buy things off the road.

6. Headphones are good in theory. In reality the loudspeaker of Ethiopian bus music will always win.

7. There are no rest stops. There are multiple stops to rest. It’s best to find a nice bush, and never be in a hurry.

8. Personal space is a western concept.  Here: Laps, arms and shoulders are fair game.

9. If someone next to you has fruit, snacks or gum, they’ll offer to share. As should you.

10. Even when you’re traveling alone, you’re never alone. People will always be there talking to you, offering you help and inviting you to lunch with them.

A (mis)Adventure in Addis

I had a meeting in the capital this weekend, so I caught a mini bus out of Jimma on Saturday at 5 a.m.  It was still pretty dark out, and I saw my first hyenas in country. They looked like a cross between a cat, a dog and a monkey. And bigger than I thought. Anyway, it was also raining and the driver had a serious need for speed, so I closed my eyes and prayed for most of the way. I got to Addis 3 hours earlier than usual.

In the city, I line taxied my way over to the hotel. Actually…I line taxied myself over to some ice cream, then started walking toward the hotel. On the way, a man in front of me turned around and hocked spit at me.

I stood, stunned, completely grossed out. I actually kept repeating, “gross.. gross.. gross.”  He apologized and asked if I had any tissues to wipe it off. No. I lied. I don’t know why I lied.

He had a shirt in his hand and I wanted to wipe myself off with that. Instead he grabbed a small piece of tissue from his pocket and started wiping my stomach. The spit was mostly on my arm. I pushed him away and took the tissue to start wiping my arm. He took his shirt and started wiping my stomach again. I pushed him away again and he turned around, apologizing, and jumped in a car 20 feet behind us.

I don’t think you have to guess what that was all about. I checked my purse and found I still had my phone, my money, my camera. It was really confusing and I was still stunned from having his gross spit all over me. I re-checked my bag and couldn’t find anything missing. Some girls behind me caught up and asked if I was Ok. I told them I couldn’t find anything missing. Then I realized a magazine I had on top of all my stuff was gone. I don’t think he could reach any of the important stuff below it.

The girls told me I was lucky, and that God loves me. I think this is the first time in my life I’ve ever been spit on and felt lucky.

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.