First area of reform: establishing a FDA

So, since learning that I will be moving to the Amhara region in December and away from her watchful care, inatey (host mom) has become concerned that I will not survive on my own. I'll be the first to admit, this is a legitimate concern. Thus, she has made it her mission to make me Ethiopian. This week's lessons: food preparation and laundry.

Food prep 1: woofcha

On Wednesday we went to the mill where all of our normal looking food is ground into mush, which we eat two times a day. It's an intense place, with lots of women, grains, and spices flying everywhere. Burburrey, a spice Ethiopian is known for, is ground up here and when you breathe it in, it feels like your whole head is on fire. And I meant it when I said women were flying everywhere… three fights broke out in the hour that I was at the woofcha. I only caused one of them. I thought it might be a good photo opportunity, what with all the heavy machinery and colorful foods. I asked inatey if it was all right first, but apparently the lone male machine operator didn't think it was a good idea. The women stood up for me, but then got angry when I put my camera away. I really couldn't do anything right at this point. In the end, I got some pictures and the man and I held hands. I guess that means we're on good terms? The other fights involved women cutting in line and subsequently getting beaten with whatever was within arm's length: sticks, large bowls, wicker baskets…

Food prep 2: bunna

I hate coffee. I hate the smell of coffee more than coffee. Not only do they make me drink it, but last night I was in charge of the bunna ceremony. Apparently I am a good student and make a delightful bunna… it tasted like sewage.

Food prep 3: duro

On Saturday we only had a half day of training, so I came home in the middle of the day thinking it would be a good opportunity to do some laundry and clean my room. What awaits me as I round the corner of my compound? A chicken, splayed open and bloody, displaying it's innards for all the world to see. I think I must have turned a bit white because inatey, with her bloodstained hands, looks up at me and says "Kristen- sick?" For some background information on this chicken, it was the first thing that I demonstrated my competency in the Amharic language on, pointing and saying "ki duro" (red chicken). I hadn't seen little buddy in a while, but had noticed that the door to the "shower" (this room I don't understand- we're supposed to take showers there, but the room is made completely of dirt. Were one to bathe there, they would just get muddy. I stick to my bucket baths in my room…) had been shut for a few days. The "shower" room is right by the bathroom and every time I was taking care of business I could hear him clucking for freedom. I could have saved his life. So, inatey uses his death as an opportunity to teach me the names of different body parts, none of which I remember because I was trying to keep from getting sick. I hate dead things more than coffee. She even cut open the heart, so I could see inside, which was nice of her. Fortunately, I watched her feed the intestines and maybe kidney (liver?) to the dog, so I know they weren't mixed into the duro wat I've been eating the past two nights. Who knows what happened to the heart. I don't even want to talk about the fact that I did my laundry in the same bucket that I watched her clean the blood off the chicken in… and I'm pretty sure it was only rinsed with water.

In other news, we've been learning more about what we're going to be doing once we're done with training. It sounds like a huge, necessary, exciting, impossible job. There is no way we're going to get done what they want us to in two years. Apparently there are all these different government, non-government, international, and grassroots organizations working on AIDS prevention and treatment throughout Ethiopia. The system is ineffective and inefficient (Jen- don't even start), people are getting overlooked, the right people aren't targeted, and people who should be getting treatment are slipping through the cracks. Our job is to fix it and develop strategies for all these people to work together. We're all kinda unsure of how exactly we're supposed to do this, but a lot of people are interested in helping us, so that's cool. This past week representatives from USAID, PEPFAR (The President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief), HAPCO (HIV/AIDS Prevention and Control Office), WHO, Save the Children, etc. have all been in to talk to us. One or more of these orgs will be at all the sites we will go to and we'll be working with them. It's been great making connections and getting to talk to people who are out there meeting the needs of others… I'm just not really sure where we fit in.

Today was Sunday, the only day we get off, and it was delightful. I swam, showered, had Bible study with some of the girls (awesome), and read most of the afternoon. Swimming at high altitude is a new challenge and people have me freaked out about some water parasite that eats your brain or something, but it was worth it. This evening, some people came over and we listened to a sermon… not as much of a cultural experience as the last two weeks, but it was great to discuss and pray afterwards.

That's really about all that's going on… most valuable lesson learned this week: don't let laundry day coincide with chicken killing day.

I miss you guys and I'm starting to get desperate for contact... I'm working on getting a calling card, so if you see a strange number, you should answer it. Much love.

(Copied and pasted by Jen, who is intensely excited to be given the task)