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.

A Stick in the Road

After a successful working weekend in Jimma, two volunteers and I caught a mini bus back to Agaro. It usually takes an hour, but this mini bus made an unusual stop. There was a giant branch-like contraption sticking out of the road and several people standing around staring. My gaze soon shifted to the left, where a giant power line was half tilted, ready to fall at any moment. I almost knew before I asked… is there power in Agaro?

No, they said. It disappeared.

There’s no telling how long a situation like this will take to fix. As an added surprise, both the water and phone network went down with it.

So Dave, Marissa and I arrived in Agaro with limited options. Our days went something like this:

√   Go to the market, come home and use the remaining water I have stored to wash and peel veggies for dinner. Slowly.

√  Pull down the small box of Christmas items from last year. Set up a mini tree, hang a few stockings. Stand back and admire.

√  Take quizzes from Oprah and Cosmo magazines. (Turns out we’re all romantics, and can keep our cool under pressure.)

√  Prepare dinner by headlamps and candlelight. (Part camping, part alluring ambiance?)

√  Explore Cosmo for all the new fashion, culture and beauty trends we’ll never be a part of.

√  Discover a million and one tricks to do with matches.

√  Visit the small local library… Read the Encyclopedia Britannica circa 1981, The Babysitters Club and several books on Karl Marx.

√  Find someone along the road selling coffee they made with a charcoal fire.

√  Do crossword puzzles from a book published sometime in the 1990’s.

√  Sit around listening to my iPod until the last of it’s battery is drained.

√  Read.

√  Read some more.

√  Discus options.

Agaro is really hot this time of year. We can buy bottled water for drinking, but as for washing our bodies, our clothes, our dishes… you begin to understand what a serious commodity water is. Going weeks without water, you feel hot and dirty. Your dishes pile up. You dream of cold showers and clean clothes.

So… our options: Stick around Agaro and go through the whole experience we’re all too familiar with. OR. Get on a mini bus back to Jimma, share a hotel and take a shower.

Call me a cheater, but that shower was amazing.

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.

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.