Peace Corps

Happy 2009!

Another New Year has been celebrated in Ethiopia, which is weird to think about. We celebrated New Year’s Eve by drinking milk and butter coffee – yes, coffee with milk, butter and salt in it. We ate akaayii (roasted barley, chickpeas and peanuts) with nugii (nyjer seed roasted and pounded to a paste with salt and garlic), popcorn with sugar and peanut butter cookies made by yours truly. Midnight celebration of the New Year is not really a thing here, so there were no fireworks or ball drop or anything like that. For New Year’s Day we ate doro wat, a stew of onions, berbere, hard-boiled eggs and chicken. We also ate our weight in homemade bread. We drank coca (think house-made coca cola minus the carbonation) and of course, coffee.

Last New Year we had only been living in our town 5 months and had only spent a total of 8 months in country. Now, we have been living in our town for 17 months and have spent a total of 20 months in country. I remember last year having no expectations of what would go on and kind of just following my landlord’s wife around, house to house and being the center of attention and conversation. This year had a totally different vibe. Reflecting on my behavior one year ago as compared to today I see how comfortable and confident I have become in my life here. How I have come to understand the cultural nuances and the language required to blend in rather than stick out. Of course, I will always stick out as the foreigner, especially in a town with literally no other foreigners, but I felt much more comfortable celebrating the holiday as a member of the community rather than a stranger. I participated in more conversations rather than just fielding the same questions like: “Are you doing research?” or “Is it possible for you to eat injera?” I even caught snippets of conversation around me as people were commenting on how I had learned so much about the culture and participated in it fully. I feel proud, especially because some parts of this experience have been incredibly trying and have brought me to the limits of my patience and luckily, taught me how to be a more gracious and patient person. I had reached a point a few months ago where it felt very difficult not to be offended and speak out when I perceived disrespect from someone. And a few months before that I would just let people say whatever they want for fear of offending someone. I have definitely hit the sweet spot of choosing my battles, understanding when what seems to be rudeness is just different cultural norms or poor language translation, and being able to find the words to calmly explain to someone what I find to be disrespectful (for example, outburst of laughing when I try to speak the local language). It was also nice this year to just walk around on my own and be personally invited to a few homes rather than being the “plus one”. I am forever grateful to Fantaye for helping me be so social whenever she can, but the freedom of being on my own makes me feel like an adult that is living among friends. I participated in preparations for the holiday much more, which was another big accomplishment because a year ago, most people were sure that all Americans only cut onions using a machine and that I basically couldn’t do much. This year, I didn’t even have to force my way in to help, I was asked to do specific tasks and then left to do them unsupervised. I have seen this even in my baking of injera. When I first started, someone almost always was hovering over me and correcting me or commenting on what I was doing. The last few times I baked injera, I was just told “jabbadhu” (be strong) and left to do my work. To gain the respect of my friends here in being able to do the things that they have been doing since they were teenagers has given me a great feeling of joy. This is not to say that I don’t still encounter plenty of times where someone peels a knife away from me because they are sure I can’t possibly use it without cutting myself or when someone tells me the way I am cooking things is wrong because it is a different method than their own, but reflecting back I can see my own growth and the growth of people around me. I can see that although maybe our idea of what we could have contributed workwise to our community falls very short, I am forever changed and my friends here are forever changed because of my presence and that can never be a bad thing. I can definitely see the value of living in other cultures to be able to fully share your life with another and fully experience theirs.

My main gals, Tadu, Yodit and Fantaye late at night on New Year’s Day.

Coffee Hour(s) and the People Who Pour It.

Coffee. Or as it’s known in Ethiopia, buna. It is a life water for people here and the coffee ceremony is the time to gather, to talk, to spend time with friends and family and to escape the heavy workload that women have every day. I want to share some images of some of the coffee ceremonies that I have been a part of and the people who have poured coffee for me on a frequent basis. By the way, Chris and I drink coffee with at least one family every day. Every. Single. Day. Some of the best moments and conversations have happened during these gatherings.

A plethora of plastic slippers signaling a large gathering of coffee-drinkers

Of course, my main lady Fantaye and the house that I drink coffee at most often. Today she is attired for a holiday celebration. I have come to know this home as my own and to feel like a member of this family. Fantaye pours her coffee with salt and on holidays, with butter.

These are some of the times when Fantaye poured coffee for us. Chris handing Kifle’s coffee cup to him in the kitchen, where we have the coffee ceremony when work doesn’t allow Fantaye to get away. Neighborhood kids who have come by to say hi and get some “qursii buna” (coffee snack). Me hanging out with the girls and Biruk on his 6th birthday.

This is Tadu, another neighbor and Kifle’s sister. I have spent many mid-mornings and holidays sitting in her home sipping on coffee. She always boils it with cardamom and sometimes adds rue. She frequently hands me a double layer of coffee cups because she worries about me burning my fingers.

Here is Fitsum, my best friend Yodit’s daughter. Yodit doesn’t drink coffee, so I don’t have it often at her house, but on holidays she makes it and calls for me to come over and drink it.

Here is my beautiful friend Kamila, with whom we celebrated the Muslim holiday to end Ramadan (picture on right). On the left is just another day drinking coffee. Kamila pours her coffee cups with sugar. She is one of the only people in my town who pours it this way.

Here I am, pouring “baraka”, the second round of coffee where fresh hot water is poured over the soaked grounds and re-boiled to enjoy all over again. Sometimes I pour the second round when Fantaye is busy. I have earned the right to pour the mama bear’s jebena!

Participation Trophies

People joke about the idea that American children are often given ribbons/certificates/trophies simply for participating in activities, not necessarily for excelling in them. I want to present a different view, a different extreme, which I have observed in our town here in Ethiopia. Something that has been difficult for me to hear and observe is the intense level of comparison and criticism that is dealt upon children and adults alike. Chris and I have experienced it personally with our language skills. We are both learning a new language and immersing ourselves fully in a community with very few English-speakers. However, the reception of our efforts is often less than complimentary. People tend to laugh at us frequently because of our language attempts, but the challenge goes beyond that. When we are together and even apart, our adult peers compare Chris and my skills and point out who is better and for whom the language is “not possible”. This direct translation of hin danda’amu to “not possible” is used in many ways in life. School children are compared and even within one family a parent may directly tell their child that a certain subject is “not possible” for them. Then in the same minute they may turn to their other child and say how “very possible” it is for them. Coming from a culture where saying “it’s impossible for you” is somewhat taboo, it is very difficult to hear people criticizing their own children like this. By the way, sometimes “not possible” might be an 80% score. I’m finding myself thankful for my “anything is possible” upbringing from my parents and teachers alike. Doses of reality are good and play useful roles in life, but I am definitely a supporter of the power of positive thinking. I can think back to my patients I have worked with and the elderly patients I met that had lived the most healthy and longest lives were most often positive people with positive support systems. Yes, our confidence and positivity must come from ourselves, but especially during the years when we are changing and growing as kids, it is really important for some of the confidence and positivity to be fostered by friends, family and/or educators. Even educators here compare student-to-student and often right in front of them.

So, what is this driven by? Is it local to my area? Is it widespread in Ethiopia? It’s difficult to say because there are so many differences between education in cities versus rural areas and in private versus public. The focus purely on who holds the highest scores and the lack of attention to those who may be falling behind may stem from the system for getting into university. At the completion of 10^th grade, all students take a national exam that determines whether they can continue to 11^th grade or will have to take another course of action. For some who don’t pass the 10^th grade national exams, they can go to TTC (teacher’s training college) to become an elementary school teacher. Another option is to go to technical school to learn a trade. Others opt to become farmers or be self-employed or employed by their families. Yet another option is to go to driving school and become a driver of sorts. For those students who pass the exam with high enough scores (based on a curve of all students across Ethiopia), they may continue to 11^th and 12^th grade, which gives them an opportunity to continue to university after. University here is fully paid by the government, which is the up side. The down side is that you do not get to choose what you study or which university you will attend. Your post 12^th grade national exam scores determine your university and your field of study. So, imagine going to university and it being free, but not being able to choose what you can study. Is this a good trade-off? One of the clear downsides is that without having the power to choose your field of study, often students are less passionate about their respective fields. Of course, even in the U.S., students often choose a field they feel passionate about, but become disenchanted with it upon entering the work force.

Often the U.S. falls behind other developed countries in educational performance, but the opportunities we have in the states to choose what we want to study, to be celebrated for our efforts even when we don’t stand first in our class, and to be encouraged to think critically and outside the box are absolutely gifts.

The World Map Project

Recently Laura and I brought up the idea to paint a mural on one of the new cinder block walls from the recently built Grade 1-4 buildings. The idea was received extremely well and right away the principal told us that they have a budget for these beautifications and that they could purchase the supplies. Well immediately we made up the list of what we thought we would need. As we started to prime the 4.48m x 2.24m section of wall we noticed we were mistaken, the cinderblocks were like sponges and a gallon wasn’t even enough to finish the first coat. Here is as far as we got with the gallon.

The final material list after a few visits to the hardware store in Metu was:

3 gallons of white
2 liters of blue
1 liter of green
1 liter of yellow
1 liter of orange
1 liter of red
1 liter of varnish
¼ liter of black
assortment of brushes

The materials were overall cheaper than they would be in America but it still came out to around $100, which is basically our base monthly ‘salary’.

I encourage everyone to check out www.theworldmapproject.com which is a website started by a PCV who served in the 80’s. The website details the whole project. They have prepared 2 ways of accomplishing this map, either by tracing over a projection if projectors are common, or by making a grid with a certain number of squares. We chose this grid method and so we made 8cm squares, specifically 56 squares across and 28 vertically. With these 1500 squares it’s much easier to stay on track and not create a map that slowly starts to veer or finding out that at about 2/3 across you won’t have enough room for Asia.

So after the priming was complete we put a second coat of blue over the entire rectangle. At this point I borrowed a few meters of some square steel tubing from our only metalworker and after cleaning the rust off with some vinegar we were ready to start lining the maps. We used regular permanent markers on the block, and we only ruined 3 or 4 by the end.

After making the grid, we referenced 18 scaled down sheets of paper for how to trace out the countries, resulting in this:

At this point we started mixing some of the pastel colors we would need, the map calls for 8 different colors. One by one we got through all the countries including territories. Once the colors were all finished we had to paint over all the lines in the ocean that were left, and finally we would paint over the outside of the globe with a different color to hide the numbering of the grid. It was a fun adventure walking around town trying to find the elusive ‘gas’ that is around. Apparently in the outlying areas where there is no electricity it is still very common to use these lanterns that burn some type of gas, but this is yet another English/Ethiopian English adventure. First I asked the bus driver if he could just fill up my liter water bottle with whatever he uses for his bus, I figured at least once every 3 days he has to fill up his bus. He insisted though, that he would just siphon some out of the bus and then refused to take any money for it. He called this stuff ‘gas’, but I think it’s diesel. After a few days of washing brushes and our hands we ran out and so instead of pushing my luck with our kind bus driver, I instead tried to find someone else. Some more fortunate families have motorcycles that I would think would run on gas, so I started asking and again they insisted they would just siphon it out of their bikes to give me. I kept trying and found someone selling something called ‘benzilene’, not benzene, which I think is either kerosene or gas. So to recap there are three things somewhat available here, there is ‘gas’, ‘gas adi’ [white gas], and benzilene. The benzilene dries really quickly which makes me think its normal gas as used in cars in America. I think the lanterns run on kerosene, so the ‘white gas’, and the bus I believe runs on diesel, which they call ‘gas’.

The compound kids helping us out with paint by number

We actually used 9 colors because we couldn’t agree on whether teal would be a better option or gray, so we just made a little of both and split up those countries. The yellow and red we used straight out of the can and because there wasn’t a white base the coverage was really bad, those colors needed a thorough 2 coats to cover the ocean blue. If I did this project again I would try and find some sealable containers that could keep the mixed colors because we kept returning to the school and would find either the residual paint in the cups, or the mixed paints we had stored in 2 bottom halves of water bottles, painted all over the campus, all over walls and cement walkways, our brushes completely covered in whatever colors we had used that day, etc. We might add the names of the countries on the sides of the wall not yet painted, but we are a little worried about down this avenue because we don’t want to clutter up the map with the corresponding numbers, especially in the areas like southern Europe with really small countries.

We are both really excited having finished the map, it’s something so tangible and long lasting. I personally have wanted to do this project for a long time now, it’s obviously very popular in schools and all around the world, and it doesn’t hurt that I have a personal interest in geography.

p.s. I even had time to add South Sudan to an existing mural on another wall at the school.

Recent Meanderings

Take a random walk with us….

Listen to the sounds of the bees above your head.

Traditional beehives hanging far up in the tree

Look at the dirty feet adorned by butterflies.

Delight in the season when the buna trees flower.

Be confused once again at the presence of a cactus tree in a subtropical climate.

Grab quickly for your camera to catch the beautiful bee-eater sitting on a branch.

See that quintessential traditional home with the banana tree out front.

Look at a beautiful old tree….wait….what’s that in the hole in the center?

Oh hello there!

Be amazed at the expanses of untouched wild.

Ant Moving Day

Towards the end of an evening walk in Becho, Chris and I happened upon what appears to be a colony of ants moving homes. They were moving along a river bank in a very organized fashion. Some of the ants lock their bodies together and remain perfectly still to create a safe tunnel for the thousands of ants to traverse through so they don’t fall in the water or otherwise come to harm. They don’t even appear to be live ants, but this is a living tunnel. The solider ants set up at intervals along the path and march around, keeping watch for dangers. They have large front pinchers and having been bit for the first time in Ethiopia by a soldier ant, I can tell you they are NOT messing around.

IMG_20160302_182511_143 IMG_20160302_182519_402 IMG_20160302_182524_883

Chris also took some video, so check out the ants in action here: Ant Relocation

Ethiopian Culture Share: Weddings

Chris and I attended our first Ethiopian wedding a couple months ago. Not only did I attend the wedding itself, but got to participate in a lot of the preparations as well. Fantaye and I went a few evenings the week before the wedding to the bride and groom’s home to spend time with them and held prepare for the event. The first day we helped pound spices and of course, drank buna together. The next time we went we helped to separate barley from stones and unwanted grains and you guessed it, drank buna. The last day of preparations that I attended was onion and meat chopping day. The amount of onions was absolutely absurd; AFTER being diced, they filled two 5-gallon buckets. The meat was being precooked in about a 25-gallon metal pot over a wood fire and then pulled out piece by piece and cut into bite size pieces, removing unwanted parts and preparing it all to be put back into the pot and cooked as a wot (stew). Not only was this assembly line happening once, but twice because separate meat was prepared for Christian guests and Muslim guests because the way that they each slaughter an animal is particular to their religious beliefs. I contributed the buna for this last day of preparations, which was good because they wouldn’t really let me cut onions for more than a couple minutes and I didn’t have much interest in cutting the meat. So, I sat and chatted and drank buna and helped here and there. This was the evening before the wedding itself.

The morning of the wedding we headed over to the bride and groom’s house around 11 am, where we started the day by eating injera and two meat wots, a berbere version and an alicha version (a yellow spice, not hot like berbere). We drank homemade coca (made from barley, honey/sugar, oranges and water) and waited while the bridal party finished getting ready. They chartered two of our local busses to take the bridal party and wedding guests to the next location. The group of guests gathered at the bride and groom’s home sang and beat drums to escort the bridal party from the house to the bus. The bride wore a western wedding style white tulle dress and her bridesmaids wore light pink bridesmaid’s dresses and coated themselves with glitter. There were even two flower girls in white tulle. The bus had been cleaned prior to the wedding, but it is still amazing how the dress could possibly stay white after being exposed to the dust of dry season. It stayed white throughout the day. The flower girls’ dresses did not fare so well, ending the day covered in dust and berbere.

At the bride and groom’s house before heading to Bure

Bridal party photos

The bus headed out, with the destination being the bride’s hometown and her family’s home, which is the tradition for Ethiopian weddings. Her hometown was Bure, a town about 2 hours from Becho. Lively music and dancing filled the bus ride with every seat and the “standing room only” aisle filled with guests. Along the drive we stopped by a tea plantation for the bridal party to take photos and again by a river and scenic area for another set of photos.

Tea plantation

Chris and the tea plantation

Tea leaves

Two of the Becho bus kids

Photos on the way to the wedding

Upon arriving to Bure, everyone sang and danced to escort the bridal party out of the bus and down the side road to the bride’s home. The tradition upon arriving at the bride’s home is for the groom to bring a sheep and to kill it at the threshold of the house. After that, the bride and groom entered the outdoor area filled with benches and covered with tarps where all of the bride’s family was sitting. They greeted each member of the family and gave gifts. They then entered her home and I didn’t see them again until we left for the day. The guests washed their hands and went through a buffet line to eat again. Lunch was injera and two meat wots, the same style as the morning’s meal. Coca and farso – a local beer – were the beverage options. After eating, the guests walked around the town for a while, walking off the big meal and just killing time. More food would be eaten later as the tradition is to immediately prepare the sheep that the groom killed upon arriving to the home to make tibs (cut up meat cooked with peppers and onions). After walking a while we returned to the house, saw the process of packing up all of the wedding gifts from the bride’s family to the couple and then the tibs were ready. Injera and tibs were brought out, eaten at record speeds and then all the guests abruptly got up and headed for the bus as it was almost twilight already.

Parading down the street to the bride’s family’s home in Bure

The crowd to greet the bus of wedding guests

Getting out of the wedding bus

The bus ride home was mostly in the dark and included more lively music and dancing. By the end, the windows were all steamed up from body heat and sweat and it seemed no one had tired. We arrived in Becho to a large group of friends, family and neighbors who once again escorted the bridal part back to the home with drums and song. The whole experience was very high energy and it was nice to be outside for most of the wedding day, besides the bus of course.

One of the most interesting traditions to me is that the bride and groom’s home is visited all day by well wishers from Becho that eat the wots, drink the coca, and bring money as gifts, but all while the bride and groom aren’t even there because they are at the bride’s family’s home.

We arrived home late, tired, dusty and sweaty, but happy. The wedding was one of our most pleasant public experiences because for once, it seemed people were less interested in the strangeness of us being in Ethiopia and everyone was just there to party and celebrate together.

Grassrootsoccer in Metu

In the beginning of February, Chris and I completed a 2-day Grassrootsoccer training in Metu with Ellen and I wanted to share some pictures from the event.

We planned the training for the semester break so we weren’t sure how the attendance would be. Ellen invited 80 of the 10^th graders from her school and we planned and hoped for the best. The morning the training began – which was supposed to be at 8 am according to the invitations – we were sitting there at 8:45 with no students yet and feeling a bit bummed. Luckily, we waited around because close to 9, students finally started trickling in. By 9:30 we were able to start with 18 students, which was a definite success.

Ahmad and Ebenezer, two students from Becho and Metu respectively, taught the Amharic portions of the classes and we were so thankful to have them.

Ebeneezer leading Find the Ball

Chris and Ahmad teaching HIV limbo, a lesson about the increased risk of HIV with older partners

Risk Field, dribbling to avoid the major HIV risks

The activity below shows the difference in HIV risk (which then can affect your life goals) when abstinent (running without a soccer ball and someone chasing you), having one partner (running with one soccer ball and someone chasing you) and having more than one partner (running with two soccer balls and someone chasing you).