be here now.

This Place is Like a Prison

2011-12-07T21:57:00.001-06:00

Today was huge.

When I first started interning back in April of 2010, one of the first clients I helped out with was a great Ethiopian guy that we'll call Ben. He was coming from a refugee camp in Kenya and became eligible for emergency resettlement after having a stroke. Through spending time with Ben going to the bank, going to Social Security offices, and translating for him on a few occasions, we became pretty good friends. Even after my job changed I was able to keep working with Ben, which was great.

A few months after arriving in the states, Ben had another stroke and it pretty seriously impacted his ability to get around on his own. For the past year and a half, Ben has had to live in an assisted living rehab facility instead of with his family. We've been struggling to get him on disability insurance so that he can pay for the medicine he needs and live at home with his siblings. It's been one of the more frustrating experiences I've ever had and I can't even imagine how it must feel for Ben. What must it be like to flee your country, discover you have serious medical issues, be flown to yet another new place, then be told that you have to stay in a center where you are surrounded by older people who don't speak your language and are in varying stages of illness, and not have the choice to go live with your family? So overwhelming. Ben said recently that the rehab facility was starting to feel like a prison.

Finally, today we had a meeting before a judge who was to decide if Ben was eligible for disability insurance. Before Ben went before the judge, his stern-faced lawyer, Ann, warned us that this typically was another process. The judge would review the case, ask questions to make sure Ben answered them consistently, and discuss with an employment specialist to see if there were any jobs that Ben could feasibly do. The problems were many: the court certified translator wasn't there, Ben was missing medical documents from Kenya, and the lawyer was intimidating the crap out of us, so everyone was nervous.

The lawyer went to present her case before the judge first, buying us more time before in case the translator did decide to show up (never happened), leaving Ben, his case manager, a person from the rehab center, and I to wait. When she came back 20 minutes later, she said - with a completely expressionless face and flat voice- that the judge had decided, based on the evidence, to grant Ben disability and award him with 16 months of reimbursements for the previous months when he should have been receiving assistance. He didn't even have to talk to Ben. It didn't matter that the translator wasn't there. We didn't have to come back another day. Ben just needed to sign a paper and it was done. None of us understood. We all just sat. Silent, staring at her. It wasn't until Ben poked me and asked me what she said that it completely sunk in. I jumped up and started shaking Ben by the shoulders (probably not good), telling him that he had gotten the assistance, that he was free. Tears were flowing, shouts of joy rang throughout the land. I've never had stress just evaporate like that so suddenly. For sure, Ben still has some challenges ahead of him, but at least now we aren't wondering how he is going to pay for his medicine and he'll have the support he needs to live at home.

I don't think our stern-faced friend realized until that moment how much of a struggle this had been and how much it meant. Ben gave her a huge hug... let's be honest... we were all hugging her. She didn't have a choice. She took it well and left us with a, "well, next time make sure you have all your paperwork."

Seriously, such an incredible day knowing that Ben can go home soon and get the more focused assistance that he needs. I haven't been able to stop smiling all day... which didn't go over well when I got to campus and ran into people groaning under the weight of finals. But you know... it really just doesn't matter. Ben is free.

Job love.

2011-09-22T23:31:00.000-05:00

There are days where i love my job and then there are days when i really love my job. Today was a really kind of day.

First of all, when I walked in I saw three newly arrived refugees from Shimelba, one of whom I knew quite well!! The world seemed like such a small place all of a sudden and it was just a really happy moment. In the past month or so, many of my friends from the camp have resettled to the US: my translator Gebar, my favorite shop-keeper Jossy, and Tekle (all mentioned in a previous post). I've had the chance to talk to them on the phone, however none of them were resettled to DC. To see a friend in the office was so fun! And to finally feel like I have the chance to repay some of the kindness and generosity that was shown to me in Shimelba is so exciting.

Secondly, tonight we had a going away party for one of our favorite teachers, Madhav, in the refugee ESL program. I've been coordinating this program for the past year and Madhav joined at the same time I did. He is himself a refugee from Bhutan and is very well loved by his students. He has been studying English for the past 10 or so years and is so able to relate to the struggle of navigating in a world that doesn't speak your mother tongue. It was sad to see Madhav go, but the party was so so great. The students came together, of their own accord and with their limited incomes, and gave really heart-felt gifts. They all stood and said their favorite things about Madhav, which was so great... especially from those who have limited English skills. We even had some former students return to thank Madhav for how much he helped them improve their English skills and share how they were able to get better jobs as a result.

My favorite part of these classes is seeing refugees from all over world interact together. They come from such unique cultures, but they share a bond of being forced to leave their country and settle in a new place. It's so fascinating to watch them come, grow, and learn. They all have such valuable knowledge and experiences, it's just a matter of providing them with the platform (in this case, English) to share it with others.

In conclusion, a paragraph written by one of our Congolese students. They were asked to write, in 5 sentences, something that they do routinely. He is generous with his sentences, but it's beautiful so I'm ok with it...

"I usually work in a farm as a tractor driver. Agriculture is a very good activity. Personally I like it because, when I plant corn or soy beans, it is like I give a life to something, I see it grow, and after, I harvest it and I labor the soil again I replant it's a good job, when your result per hectares is high! Also I know how to work with all the implements as planter, sprayer, disk, spreader. Actually it is a nice world."

The Place with no Name

2011-07-22T02:31:00.000-05:00

Allow me to be frank about one thing: my favorite animal is the giraffe and it always will be. However, were the unthinkable to happen and all the giraffes eradicated from the planet, my back up favorite would be the camel. They are just such useful animals, they always have an inquisitive look on their face, and they never seem to complain no matter how heavy the load or how hot the temperature. I like this. Here camels are sometimes referred to as the “ships of the desert” due to their ability to haul things over long distances with minimal effort. I mention all this only because the camp I am at is swarming with camels, I got to ride one, and it was perhaps one of the happiest moments of my life. Due to my obvious glee following the camel excursion, it was suggested that I purchase a camel and ride it home, using the camel not only as a ship of the desert but also as a ship of the sea. I am seriously considering this option.

(Erikson, a refugee social worker, leading the way. I will buy a camel one day.)

Life at Shimelba refugee camp has been interesting thus far and I am learning a lot. The name “Shimelba” is a result of the smashing together of two words: “name” and “there is no,” or “the place with no name.” At first I found this to be a bit harsh and it didn’t seem nearly as bad as had been described to me by former Shimelba refugees now living in the DC area. It seemed like any other Ethiopian town- there are small shops set up, a market area, cafes for drinkingtea/coffee, DSTV houses that show soccer games and movies, a stadium for actually playing soccer, restaurants for eating tasty lamb with injera, and even a nice school. In fact, I even found it nicer than most Ethiopian towns in some ways- water is provided by the IRC and there is an abundant flow (not what I was expecting from a refugee camp). Food is distributed monthly by the UN, so all the children appear to be healthy. There are ceiling fans, which I don’t think I have ever seen in this country. And the whole scene is set to a backdrop of gentle rolling hills. The IRC offices/ the housing where we live is set on top of a hill overlooking the entire camp and it is tempting to look out over everything and think that it is all simply picturesque. Then I stayed here for a month.

(A favorite evening hangout overlooking Shimelba)

It’s not just the weather, though it tends to bear the brunt of the blame. It really is amazingly hot. It feels like the sun has become your personal adversary, out to slay you whenever you attempt the smallest of tasks. People say that this is the “cool” season, but they are delirious and don’t know what they are talking about. I don’t want to think about what the hot season is like. The air here is so still, making the heat omnipresent and constant. The heat becomes trapped in things, like your bed sheets or your clothes, giving the impression that you are being baked in an oven. The only relief is at night if the rains come, bringing with it a breeze and magnificent lightening storms. However, more often than not, the rains haven’t been coming as expected, which is a cause for concern.

The real reason people take issue with Shimelba is because it is an in-between place. It isn’t necessary to give these types of places a name. You don’t think you’ll be there long enough to warrant a name. No one wants to be here, but they can’t go back where they came from and they don’t yet have permission to go forward. Everyone is waiting for permission for something: to complete their education or start a business or find a job that would support them and their families. And while they are waiting, a lot of time is passing. Some have been waiting here for as long as 7 years and you can hear a tone of futility in their voices as they talk about the ineffectiveness of the system they are trapped in. The Ethiopian government just opened a limited number of positions for Eritrean refugees to attend university, but its not enough. They also just began allowing the refugees to move to urban cities if they can demonstrate that they have sufficient support from family and friends, but few have that kind of support. In 2008, the UN started resettling refugees from Shimelba, mostly to the US, but the process is slow and most are still just waiting.

For the past month, I’ve been teaching Cultural Orientation courses to refugees who are in the waiting stage before resettling to the US. The course lasts for two weeks, with one group meeting in the morning and another in the afternoon. Our second round of classes has just finished and they’ve been a lot of fun. In total, around 200 refugees participated and hopefully they are now a bit more prepared for what is to come. I’ve also been working on revising the Cultural Orientation curriculum, which has been a bit challenging with minimal access to electricity and no internet, but it’s coming together. And finally, I’ve been drafting budget and funding proposals to try and get some money directed to the refugees that are resettling. It’s hard to get funding for projects like this because donors tend to be more focused on hot issues, like the unaccompanied minors who are flocking to Ethiopia from Eritrea or the massive drought that is taking place in the Somali region. Those who are resettling don’t have imminent needs and thus much less funding is given. However, if refugees have realistic expectations about what life will be like once they arrive in the US, the transition process is at least a bit smoother and it can make a big difference in their first few years in the States. Or at least that is the hope. Some of the students from the first class have already flown to the United States (they really enjoyed the fact that they would get there before me), so I’m hoping to follow-up with them in a few months to see if the course proved helpful.

(Tekle, a favorite student, after his name was posted for resettlement. He should be in the US now!)

Some highlights of my Shimelba experience include:

-getting to know the refugee social workers. These are refugees employed by the IRC to implement the different programs. I mostly worked with social workers from the Youth and Livelihood program and they are great. Two of them helped me by translating for the entire month, which was a huge task. Gebar and Dawit are incredibly bright, strong guys and have ridiculous, unbelievable stories. We grab tea after most classes and I have gained so much insight and perspective from them. Other social workers were kind to invite me to hang out with their families, drink coffee, and talk for hours… doing what those in Shimelba do best.

(With Gebar and Dawit outside our favorite tea house)

-making new friends. Before leaving DC, one of the refugees from Shimelba who resettled to DC and received his assistance from our office told me that I HAD to find his best friend who was still in Shimelba. And so I did. Jossy became a great friend and loyal ally. He runs a small shop in the camp and would sometimes venture to the world outside of Shimelba (the great beyond) and bring back luxury items such as bananas and candy. I also became great friends with the IRC staff, who are smart, dedicated, and adventurous.

(coffee ceremony at Jossy's house)

-finding the secret garden. One day, a favorite social worker of mine, Tukku, was waiting for me as soon as class got out and told me that we had to go somewhere immediately. Naturally, I followed him. We ended up in the secret garden of Shimelba, a wonderful place with trees and vines and flowers and green things and life. The mastermind behind it all is a refugee named Bekele who has the greenest thumb imaginable. A couple years ago, some Canadians were offering gardening classes to refugees (just repeating what I’m told. No idea why Canadians felt the need to teach farmers how to grow things, but there you have it) and this guy took to it like a champ. He fashioned benched and tables out of dirt bricks, allowing other refugees to come and find relief from the heat. For the guests’ reading pleasure, he has Canadian gardening magazines available to peruse. He also had 3 caged parrots and was growing sweet potatoes, a rare and tasty commodity. It was an entirely bizarre experience to have in the middle of a desert, but I couldn’t stay away after that.

(Hanging with Bekele in his garden)

-the 4th of July. This came at a crucial time. About halfway through my time in Shimelba, we hadn’t had cell phone service/ electricity/ rain for weeks, it was hot, my first group of students (who were awesome) had completed the course and the second group just didn’t seem as awesome yet (no worries- we warmed to each other in no time)…. Thus, it was imperative to do something to boost moral. I sent my computer with a driver going to town, had him charge it, and then arranged a movie night in order to celebrate. The IRC staff was just as doldrums-y as I was, so we all really got into it. Mattresses were dragged out onto the porch, popcorn was popped, and we chose a classic American film- The Shawshank Redemption. This was a great hit with the staff, largely due to a deep love in this country for Morgan Freeman. Following July 4th, Shimelba became known as ‘Shimelbashank’. I feel like the staff really identified with the film.

-discovering cactus fruit. A double-edged sword, I’ll tell you that much. A tasty, delicious and abundant fruit, akin to the passion fruit, but covered with skin-piercing thorns. Though that’s not the worst of it. When first introduced to the fruit, many people I talked to said that they didn’t eat it because it was known to cause constipation. This did not seem like an entirely negative thing to me, given some extenuating circumstances. Thus, I purchased a kilo of the tasty delights and commenced to eat them for breakfast because the other option was usually shredded, spicy injera, which is unacceptable in the morning and usually the cause of my extenuating circumstances. Around this same time, I began feel rather ill. I would wake up feeling fine, but usually an hour into my first class I would break out into a sweat, starthaving stomach cramps, and get light-headed. After an hour or so, I’d be fine again. I attributed it to dehydration and commenced an intense water-drinking regime. In the meantime, my extenuating circumstances were not improving and I was losing faith in the cactus fruit. My days continued in this terrible cycle until one day my friend said that she was surprised that I didn’t get sick after I ate the cactus fruit on an empty stomach. When I asked her why she would wait so long to say something, she just said she thought everyone knew that cactus fruit should only be eaten after other food. Lesson learned.

-Witnessing a Kunama wedding. The Kunama people make up a large population of Shimelba and they have a fascinating culture. They are known for being an extremely tight-knit community and, when asked if they would like to sign up for resettlement, the elders said sure… if they could all be resettled to the same place and if they would be allowed to take their camels, donkeys, and goats. Needless to say, most of them did not sign up for resettlement, preferring to stay together and with their livestock. Anyway, one day some friends and I were heading to hang out in the secret garden and along the way we ran into a Kunama wedding procession. It was out of control. I’ll post a video someday.

(The wedding procession and with friends Lemlem, Kidist, and Alem after the bride and groom passed by)

-Renewing my love of sports. The canteen on the IRC compound, where the staff eats meals, is equipped with satellite television. Except for the few times I was able to gain control of the remote, if we had electricity we were watching either sporting events or music videos. Good news is, I am now caught up on all the songs the kids are listening to these days. The best part though, was the community that arose around the sports. We first got into Wimbledon and did our best to mimic the moves of our favorite players. If the electricity went out, we took our newly acquired skills to the Ping-Pong table and started fierce competitions. When anyone made a particularly good shot we would yell “NADAL!!!!!” or “SHARAPOVA!!!!,” the camp favorites. Needless to say, we were rather devastated when they both lost…

(An intense ping-pong tournament with the IRC guys)

After Wimbledon, we became rather obsessed with the Women’s World Cup and I’ll be the first to admit that I would tolerate nothing but single-minded support for team USA. Some tried to cheer for Brazil, France, Sweden, the UK. Others expressed sympathy for Japan. I would have none of it. Before the games, IRC staff and any visitors were required to learn at least the key sections of the Star Spangled Banner and sing along. Tragically, the electricity went out 33 minutes into the final and we were left not knowing the result. Perhaps this was for the best. The next day was rough.

(celebrating American victory over France... our last chance to celebrate)

So that’s probably enough for now… sorry about the lack of posting. Internet was hard to come by, so I lost some motivation. However, I’m back in Addis now (most of this post was written last week), wrapping up some final reporting. Heading back to the Finote in a few days to catch up with everyone, which I’m real happy about. Hope all is well!

Just do your business and don't look down . . .

2011-06-10T19:50:00.008-05:00

I’ve made it to Shire (pronounced “Shi-ray,” there are no hobbits here)! Shire and I got off to a bit of a rocky start. I was told that there was an airport in Shire and that the IRC would fly me up, a convenient arrangement as a road trip up from Addis would take 3 days. However, as the plane was descending and the rocky, red ground growing ever closer, I was struggling to identify anything that resembled a runway or an airport. The pilot had made a point of announcing, in both Amharic and English, that he was allowing the co-pilot to land the plane, which I hadn’t really thought much of, but it was now making me nervous. When we were moments away from touching down, I realized the red rocks were our runway and the tin shed (even this is a generous description) was the airport. As we bounced our way to the “airport” through a cloud of red dust, herders were running around attempting to keep their animals out of the way and children were standing just on the edge of our rocky path to watch the arrival of the plane. It was not a safe program and I still don’t feel good about it.

Shire is an interesting town, a little bit larger than Finote Selam, but crawling with international aid workers. It’s close to a contested portion of the Ethiopian/ Eritrean border, so everyone has an office here. There are two nice-ish places to eat/ drink coffee in town, so I end up eating my meals with the IOM (International Office of Migration) office head, Chinese construction workers, and various other expats who have been placed here. It’s an interesting experience and I’ve enjoyed hearing the stories of people who have been in the development/ relief business for years.

The IRC is operating in two refugee camps in the area and I arrived just in time for the annual grant-opening meeting (where they share how each program will use the funds that have been allotted to them for the year) and staff retreat. It was really quite good timing as I got to spend time with the entire staff and see historical sights around the Tigray region, which I had never seen before. I was also glad I had the opportunity to sit in on the grant meetings, as it has been good to hear what activities the different programs are implementing (water and sanitation, gender based violence, child and youth protection, livelihoods, education, etc).

The people I am working with are hilarious, interact together so well, and immediately made me feel like part of the team. They are from all different parts of Ethiopia and yet they treat each other like family. The staff is extremely male dominated, but the women handle it well and always have a response for any teasing comment the guys send their way. I think the girls are happy to have a boost in their ranks, so I’ve been trying to keep up with the constant joking and am working on my quick Amharic retorts.

I will confess that I have completely lost track of how many places we visited during this 4-day retreat. Being thrown into Tigray was a great way to get started, but also completely overwhelming. They speak a different language, Tigrinya, but have many of the same traditions and culture as the rest of Ethiopia. It was disconcerting to be in a country I feel so familiar with, but to be starting over again with language. Also, the look of this region is completely different- I’m not in the injera-basket anymore! A vast majority of our time was spent driving through the countryside, which, I am convinced, is one big rock. Everything is made of rock. Roads, houses, churches, cafes, the fields the farmers were plowing… Massive hunks of rock merge together to form striking mountains and cliffs, though sometimes they stand alone like they were dropped from the sky. I think it might even rain rocks here, if it were ever to rain.

Northern Ethiopia is considered to be the origin of the Ethiopian empire, so there are ruins dating back to 5th century BC (approximate) when settlers came from Yemen (though some say that Ethiopians were here first and then influenced Yemen). Regardless, there is a temple in a village called Yeha made from perfectly fitted, huge squares of stone that apparently resembles Yemeni architecture. No concrete was involved and yet the building is still standing centuries later. They also found ancient rock tablets with Sabean script carved into them, which they think was the linguistic predecessor of Gi’ze, which gave birth to Tigrinya, which begat Amharic (kind of). I am accustomed to seeing such things safely shielded in the glass cases of museums, but not here! These tablets were kept in an attic over a food storage shed and were shown to us as an afterthought when we kept asking questions about the origin of the temple. Ethiopia is awesome.

A group of us also went to see a remote rock-hewn Orthodox church. Some people opted out of this excursion and I assumed it was because they were too tired to hike 20 minutes to get there. There are some things that I forgot/ weren’t clearly communicated: 1) when a rural Ethiopian guide says “20 minutes,” you must assume that he means more than an hour. 2) Reaching the church required scaling a mountain and walking across an exposed plank over a 700ft drop. The title of this blog was sound advice given in regards to a particularly foul latrine (shint beyt!) situation, but I’ve found it to be applicable in various settings over the past week. Even with the “don’t look down” mantra running through my head, there came a point (after climbing barefooted up the mountain face, wondering at the inspiration that drove people to build a church in such an impossible to reach place, but before the exposed plank) that I decided I had seen plenty of Orthodox churches and that I would just enjoy the view. I felt great about the decision, but our guide- a 65-year-old priest who moved like a mountain goat up that beast of a rock- was less than pleased. I offered to build a handrail and then come across, but he didn’t seem to feel there was a need for that. Curious.

That's the update for now! I've made it out to the camp and am loving it! More soon! Miss you all!

And We’re Back!

2011-05-25T13:29:00.005-05:00

All is well in Addis Ababa, where the coffee remains strong and the people as friendly as ever! The first week or so has been a fun time reconnecting with friends, finding a trusty vegetable vendor, and attending many programs (from here on, the word ‘program’ will be used to describe a myriad of activities, in true Ethio-style). A friend from AU, Alexis, and I travelled from DC together and were immediately taken to a lunch program at my good friends’, Teshager and Mame, house upon arrival. Their mom had piping-hot shiro ready and waiting, which is the only way to be welcomed back to Ethiopia.

(Alexis and I, as foreigners, paid 20 birr to receive these pink slips and gain access to a "rock hewn church in a cave." Clearly, this is just a very small rock hole, not even worthy of being called a cave. There is no church in this rock hole... in fact, the church is built above the hole. Not only was the advertising false, but the guys only had to pay 3 birr to gain access to the hole. So much injustice.)

(Alexis and I touring King Menelik and Queen Taitu's original palace outside of Addis)

Tesh, Mame, Alexis, and I spend most of the weekend with our great friend, Ermais. Ermi’s brother recently passed away in a bad car wreck and we arrived just in time to attend the 40-day memorial. Ethiopian funerals are done in stages, with the first ceremony immediately following the death, followed by more ceremonies 40 days after, 60 days after, and a year later. For Ermi’s brother’s memorial, we went to the church early in the morning, had a short service lead by a priest, and then saw the uncovering of the headstone. It was such a sad time and you could almost feel the death of this family’s son/brother become a reality to them. However, the priest gave a strong message, calling on the family to maintain faith and not focus on asking the ‘why’ questions.

After the service, we all went back to Ermi’s parents house for breakfast. Ermi’s parents are well-respected business owners and it was so great to see their community gather around them. Everyone sat around for hours, offering support, distraction, and of course eating food. I had spent some time with Ermi’s family when I was last here in December, so it was good to see them again even though the occasion was sad.

(Hanging with Ermi, Mame, Tesh, Ermi's brother Simon, some guy, and Tesh/Mame's brother Iskahun)

(Ermi's brother Yohannes, Ermi, Simon, Biruk, and their mom)

In sharp contrast, the rest of the week was spent preparing for a wedding! Over the past year in DC, I have become great friends with Meron through working with her at the IRC and attending the same program at AU with Alexis. The week was a mad dash, trying to get everything together for the big days (plural- so many programs). Meron’s husband’s family all came over from the States, so it was fun to hang out with them and see Addis through their eyes. This past weekend was full of much dancing, more food, and much time spend with Meron’s awesome grandma.

(Meron and Dave!)

(Grandma was trying to get me to sing... which wasn't going to happen)

This week, Alexis headed out to Southern Sudan to start her practicum and I started orientation for mine in the main office. On Monday I'll be going north to the refugee camp, which is in a region I've never been before. I’m excited get to work and start pulling together all the pieces of what people are telling me here. More later!

school.

2010-08-29T23:34:00.004-05:00

This afternoon I received a missed call from my good friend Habtie. My Ethiopian friends often do this- call and then hang up quickly to avoid being charged exorbitant international rates. At first it's a gentle reminder that I have become absent, but if I don't call back in a timely manner the calls become more insistent. For some curious reason, they enjoy "miss calling" me in the middle of the night here, which is fun.

However, today Habtie called while I was doing some homework and provided a much needed distraction. When I called back, I learned that Habtie was visiting his family in the rural area and they wanted to say hello as well. I visited Habtie's family just before leaving Ethiopia and it was by far the most rural place I had ever been in my life. There is no electricity, no running water, no transportation, no iced coffee... just rolling hills of crops as far as you can see. I was shocked to discover that there was cell phone reception... if you climbed a hill that was a 15- minute walk away from where Habtie's parents lived. I can't describe how bizarre it was: sitting at a crowded Starbucks in the middle of Dupont Circle at 2 in the afternoon and picturing Habtie, his dad, mom, and brother all standing on a hill, at dusk, in the middle-of-nowhere- Ethiopia.

It was especially befitting that Habtie called when he did, as I was reading an article discussing "Quality of Life." The author discusses different efforts to quantify quality of life, to establish a standard, or even to simply define "quality of life." The attempts fall short because, though we all know quality when we see it, the factors that combine and result in a life of quality are different from person to person, community to community. The author goes on to discuss this topic in terms of "progress" "growth" and "development," which was actually pretty interesting. The conclusion of all these articles I'm reading seems to be that "development" is not a word that can be easily defined and, if we are not careful, it can be used for personal gain rather than for the good of the community.

In reading, it's striking how often the different authors return to the concepts of development arising out of a "foundation of ethics." One even went as far to say that a spiritually barren community would not be able to appreciate the fruits of development. The topic of faith is often broached, but never fully discussed. In our discussions in class, faith has yet to be mentioned, which I also find interesting. This is my first time since the 7th grade to be at a school where faith in Christ is not the common denominator. At Shiloh and at Samford, it was pretty clearly stated that our purpose was to reflect Christ and that purpose was to be the foundation of our vocation. I now find myself at a school where 'service' is the common denominator. Our discussions circle around the 'whys' and 'hows' of service, but there isn't a conclusive answer. I feel like saying, "we're serving because Christ is compelling us to demonstrate His love for people. Now can we move on?"

I am really enjoying school, though I am up to my neck in reading assignments which I am clearly procrastinating from. It has been fun getting to know my new classmates, though they are intimidating in their focus and experience. I think my favorite professor will be the slightly disorganized South African... largely because he can speak Xhosa, a click language. That's just amazing. I think it may have been a little ambitious to start a new job the same week as school, but things can only get better...

In conclusion: my favorite moment of my conversation with Habtie? When he delivered this message from his grandmother: I want to see the white person one more time before I die. I'm now wondering if she realizes that there is more than one white person out here...

Work.

2010-07-20T22:37:00.005-05:00

To be clear from the start: I never intended to use this blog space once I returned to the states. It seemed like a great idea while living overseas- a way to share thoughts and life when other forms of communication were either too expensive or too slow. Writing updates in the states felt redundant when there are phones, text messages, e-mails, and facebook. But I've realized that during my two years of writing in this space, I began to use it to draw connections between what I was thinking and what was going on in life. This doesn't always come naturally to me and it helps me to see my thoughts become words. And so here I am again.

These past few weeks have been a bit overwhelming- thus the need to air out some thoughts. Last week one of my supervisors was senselessly beaten by a gang of punks kids in broad daylight, on a busy street, in a nice part of town, outside of a Whole Foods store. Though he is recovering well, it was scary at first- they fractured his skull, cracked his check-bone, and they were concerned about internal bleeding. Then yesterday, my peace corps group found out that one of our friends who was diagnosed with leukemia last month has taken an extreme turn for the worse. It has been hard to get the phone calls from friends who are so upset, to feel so helpless. It seems that these unexpected tragedies serve to remind us of our frail nature and give us no choice but to rest in God's grace, though sometimes you just want wallow in the 'why?'

Life now finds me in DC, which is bittersweet in so many ways. I have envisioned myself living here, in a row house with great windows, since high school. Life in DC is full- never a shortage of things to be done nor of people who are doing things. I work at a refugee resettlement agency that assists people who are just arriving in America to adjust and start new lives. Both the people I work with and the clients we serve are inspiring. A mixture of nationalities and thus a mixture of perspectives on life. Many have overcome great hardships and arrive here only to discover a new set of challenges. Somehow they continue to persevere with optimism and I am constantly amazed at their strength.

Though I try not to be biased, clearly my favorite clients are the Ethiopians. I'll just admit it. Yet, though I love working with them, sometimes it is difficult for me to hear their stories. One woman endured years of persecution, imprisonment, and torture because she was an active member of the wrong political party. Her sister was also active in this group and in 2007 was imprisoned and killed at a military base 20 kilometers from the town I was living in at the time. To discover that these things were going on while I was there, so close to where I was... nauseating. And then to realize that I can offer this woman no respite now that she is in my country. Does she realize yet the difficulties she will face trying to find adequate, affordable health-care? Will I be the one to tell that at her age and with her limited English she doesn't have a shot at finding a job that meets her expectations?

Additional frustration comes when seeing how other people interact with our clients. Part of my responsibilities include going with clients on errands when they need help- to the bank, social security office, border patrol, social services, and the like. Though I realize people in these offices are over-worked, I don't know that their behavior can be excused. They are rude, short, and refuse to look at people in the eye. Maybe they know that if they take time to look, they will see the burdens that these people carry with them. Maybe that is to much for them to handle on top of the mountains of work they already have. I don't know. But it is no excuse.

Take, for instance, my recent trip to the Social Services office. The client I was with had a stroke when he was at a refugee camp in Kenya and as a result he walks and speaks a bit slower than he used too. On this day, he and his sisters were supposed to meet me at the SSA office but for some reason the sisters sent him out on his own. He arrived 45 minutes late, having gotten on the wrong bus and was clearly distraught. He is a proud Ethiopian man who rarely allows his weaknesses to overwhelm him, but on this day it was too much for him. He burst into tears as soon as he saw me, frustrated with himself, his sisters, and the bus driver who wouldn't help him find his way back. At 9:45 am, it was the start of a very long day. The clerks gave him a hard time for being late, they wouldn't listen to his questions, nor would they leave time for me to translate. One clerk, herself an Ethiopian, refused to talk to him in Amharic and instead made me translate, though I asked her numerous times to talk directly to her client. And though I couldn't get her to talk the client in Amharic, at the end of the conversation she spoke to me in Amharic in order to compliment me on my Amharic. I wondered: what would happen if I just allowed my frustration the scream that it so desired? If the whole experience was incredibly dehumanizing for me, I can't even imagine how my client felt. And I wonder how often he feels that way on any given day. The life of a refugee seems so lonely.

Though there are a lot of disheartening moments, there are numerous instances when you're just so encouraged by your fellow US citizens. Once, outside of a CVS, two police officers started talking with the Burmese clients I was with. These clients speak very little English, but I figured it would be good practice for them and the cops seemed patient enough. By the time I had purchased what we needed and come back outside, the cops had figured out what where the kids were from, that they were refugees, and what neighborhood they lived in. The cops gave the kids their cards, promised to keep an eye on their neighborhood, and told them to call if they ever had trouble. I may have been over-enthusiastic in my appreciation... But to find cops who see the individuals! Who stop and talk! In DC! Who would have thought it possible?

Though this internship has stretched me (on somedays, to borrow a high school expression, I think the rubber band has popped), I don't think I have ever learned so much in such a short period of time. Some of it seems so cliche, but time management, organization, data collection, how to communicate effectively. These seem like good skills to acquire and I am slowly becoming more comfortable in my role. I feel that I am getting better at answering questions, though sometimes when I replay in my head the information that I have given a client I hope that I didn't just make everything up. I am thankful to be here now, though I will also be thankful when school starts. This 9-5 schedule is a terrible idea.

Snowpocalypse.

2010-02-09T22:41:00.010-06:00

I know- it's cliche and overused, but I just don't know how else to describe it. It's a disaster that never stops. You think it has, but then it keeps coming back for more. Literally immeasurable quantities of snow!! Ok, that's not true at all... but when you're watching the local news as much as I have been, you tend to become a little more dramatic in your speech patterns.

Over the past week my Exterra and I have been through some bonding moments. Exterra and I have been on rocky terms for the past four years. There is always that loyalty to your first car that the Exterra could never overcome and then the long-distance relationship definitely put a strain on things. I'll be the first to admit that I was holding back from the Exterra. Not anymore. When it survives this:

you know it can handle anything. Then, when it gets stuck in the middle of an icy intersection and your good friend, Will, has to come dig you out, you don't blame the Exterra. No. You realize it was your own fault for not turning off the anti-slip feature and apologize for thinking that Exterra is anything but indestructible. Then the Exterra teaches you that icy roads are not something to be feared but rather to be viewed as large four-wheeler courses. It invites you to approach roads such as these

with glee.

That being said, I have made my way to Washington DC via Pennsylvania! It's been a great time of catching up with family. I was able to spend quality time with the Grandparents and they're just great.

It was a new experience, going to the Happy Valley home when it is not busting at the seems with innumerable relatives (dramatic language again). So nice to really talk and hear stories from Korea, from the farming days, from when my dad was a kid.

From Happy Valley I headed to experience the everyday lives of more PA relatives! There were dorm rooms, snow shoveling, and hyenas surrounding leopards who had just killed a gazelle... things got pretty intense.

A person can only handle so much of the Pennsylvania/African bush, so I reluctantly headed towards DC in order to visit Universities and attend conferences, which was the whole purpose for embarking on this journey. Too bad snowpocalyse shut everything down. But yay for galavanting in the snow with friends!

Also, one of my favorite Peace Corps staff members is in the country! Girma was our training director/father figure for the first three months in Ethiopia and became a great friend. He and his wife, Kokobie, were so hospitable, so fun, and so helpful throughout the past two years... it was just so refreshing to see them! Also, I have a theory- Ethiopians are like magnets. Wherever they go, other Ethiopians are drawn towards them. On the metro, at the coffee shop, walking around the capitol building. It's ridiculous.

Dear Ohio,

2010-01-30T13:59:00.015-06:00

One of my good Ethiopian friends, Habtie, is convinced that Ohio is the promised land. His dream in life is to live there and when asked why he will say, "that is where the Christians live. Also, it is very like Ethiopia." I'll admit that I was dubious and tried to give Habtie some more realistic expectations based on my many experiences in Ohio (I spent a weekend in the Cincinnati suburbs once in the 8th grade). I told him it was a frozen wasteland with nothing to offer except industrial jobs, but he would have none of it saying, "I love Ohio."

I now find myself in Ohio as the inaugural stop on my tour de Northeast and am shocked to find that Ohio is, in fact, very like Ethiopia. I know this must come as a surprise, but I have examples:

#1- They're big into agriculture in these parts.

Ohio:

Ethiopia:

You'll notice that my 'frozen wasteland' comments are not far off the mark for Ohio...

#1a- Living conditions of farmers adequately reflect their contribution to their respective economies. For instance, farmers are the back-bone of the Ethiopian economy (43% of GDP) and they live in palaces such as this:

Contrast that to American farmers, who comprise only 1.2% of our GDP... they're practically living in mud huts.

#2- Donkeys!!!

Compare and contrast: Size and woolliness of Ohio donkeys to their Ethiopian counterparts.

Though Ohio donkeys are fatter and fuzzier, I firmly believe that Ethiopian donkeys have a higher quality of life due to the fact that Ohio is so unbelievably freezing.

#3- Patriotism runs deep in our respective lands.

Thus far the trip has been quite the success! I first met up with great friends from Peace Corps, Gamechu (one who laughs/Chris) and Chaltu (one who has a big head/is intelligent/Liz). Chris and Liz were some of my closest friends in Ethiopia and their home became a safe haven for me turning our time there, providing much encouragement, many laughs, and cherished community. It has been just as encouraging seeing them here, as their home is filled with reminders of Ethiopia (namely their dog, Curdis, who was brought back from Ethioland) and they have been so intentional in their hospitality.

I've also been able to spend quality time with the Squeak! My little sister goes to college up in the middle-of-nowhere-wasteland-Ohio. It's been so fun to see her college life, eat her college food, go to college plays, and sleep in her college dorm room. She's like a real live person these days!

I conclude with a recommendation: do not go North during winter.

Baka.

2009-11-04T19:29:00.010-06:00

One of my closest friends in Finote Selam is a prison guard named Tesfaye. He is one of my dependable ‘brothers,’ always up for my ridiculous ferenji (foreigner) requests: let’s take a four hour bus ride to eat shiro (my favorite food) in a town I’ve never been to; let’s make cheeseburgers; let’s play badminton in the middle of the road (as it turns out, a dangerous idea). Tesfaye has picked up a respectable amount of English from listening to the commentary during English Premier League Soccer games, but lacks the confidence to speak it very often. So when he does say something in English, you know he has given it a great deal of thought.

As we were walking the other day, Tesfaye turns to me and says, “Kris. Good behavior is best. Baka.” (Baka: I’m finished. Enough. I don’t need to say anymore.) Over the past few months, Tesfaye has met some of my closest friends from home who have come to visit the Finote and was referring to them. He went on to say that he could tell just by their behavior that they love people. He didn’t have to understand their language to know what was inside of them. This was a huge moment for me- to really understand how my two different worlds have come together, how they’ve impacted each other, and how my friends from home have made such a huge impression on my friends here. I’m not sure if this makes sense, but having that connection makes these past two years seem more real and gives me confidence that the relationships I’ve made here will continue even after I leave.

Speaking of two years, last month marked my second year in Ethiopia! I will say that the second year has gone much faster than the first-terrifyingly so. The past few months have been full of new experiences: visits from Samford friends Will and John, travels to Uganda to see Jen and then onto Rwanda, our Peace Corps final conference where Group One got together one last time, more visits to Ethiopia from Jamie and Jen (3rd time!!!), and travels down to Southern Ethiopia. It has been a great time of learning about this East African region I have been living in, a huge opportunity to really appreciate all the different cultures that occupy a relatively small corner of the world together. Whenever I return to the Finote after a trip, my friends will ask me to “compare and contrast” where I have been with the Finote. I always come back to the same observation: sure, it’s different and their culture seems incredibly strange to us, but they are more similar than they are foreign. The kids there ask for pens so they can go to school just like the kids here do. They encounter the same struggles with food, water, and electric supply as we do here… and they overcome with the same ingenuity and creativity. The hope for a better future is the same everywhere.

In preparing to say good-bye to the Finote, I’ve been analyzing what exactly it is about this place that makes me so hesitant to leave. What has made this past year so different and when did my mud house turn into a home? I think much of it has to do with the sense of community that is here. Though sometimes it drives me crazy that it takes me 30 minutes just to get out of my neighborhood, I also love it. I love that the little kids run up to me to demonstrate what they learned at school that day. I love sitting down at our local shoeshine stand with the high schoolers, comparing and contrasting whatever the day’s topic is. I love that when I go to my favorite café, they know just how I like my macchiato (more milk than coffee, tons of sugar). And I appreciate, though am still slightly uncomfortable, when the little old lady on my road comes up and kisses my shoulders three times. This is the first time that I’ve really participated in neighborhood life as an adult and it will be sad to leave these people that have become my home away from home. I’m scared to go home, to get in my car and drive out of my neighborhood everyday rather than walking. I’m sad to lose the familiarity that I struggled so long to establish here.

However, there are those instances in which I just can’t help but think about how much easier everything will be once I’m not here… An example: two weeks ago, a South African man ended up in the Finote Selam jail. George had been riding his motorcycle from Cape Town to Cairo and unfortunately had an accident outside of the Finote. He had to spend three nights in the Finote jail while the police tried to figure out what to do with him. Whenever another white person shows up in the Finote, I am promptly informed that my ‘relative’ has arrived. When I learned that my ‘relative’ was in jail, I thought I should go check it out. I felt awful for poor George and couldn’t imagine being in his situation so I tried to make his stay easier- loaning him sheets, a pillow, some peanut butter, and two books.

After George left, I went back to the jail to collect my belongings. The first day the police couldn’t find the key to the room, the next day it was raining which clearly meant they couldn’t be bothered to open the door, the third day the key had been found but the guard who had it had left for the rural area. Each time they took my phone number and assured me they would call me as soon as the key was available. Each time I tried not to be frustrated. There are bigger problems in life… but you get to the point where you really just want your sheets back.

Finally, I went back and- miracle of all miracles- it’s a sunny day and both the key and the guard are available!! We open the door and … all that is in the room is my pillow lying on the floor in a cloud of dust. That’s fine. A start. But where are my sheets? This caused a slight panic, which soon grew to involve seven guards and the police inspector. At the end they said, don’t worry- we’ll call you when we find them. To which I politely responded, “yes, you’ve said this before, but do you have even one of the three papers I that I wrote my phone number on?” Blank stares. I then proceeded to ask permission to search every room on the jail compound, which was met with hesitation. My logic was, “you are all police officers right?” Yes. “So none of you are thieves?” Correct. “So then my stuff has to be here somewhere?” Uhhh…. Maybe?

I went from room to room looking under desks, in filing cabinets, went into the prisoner’s room and checked the sheets on all the cots… I had quite the following, police officers all muttering that I was ‘clever’ and ‘very thorough.’ Finally, I went to the guard hut where the on-guard officer sleeps at night. I noticed a rather bulky bag hanging on the wall and asked to check it, which guard man seemed to have no problem with. When I opened it, I discovered my sheets, peanut butter, and books wrapped rather deliberately in his blanket. How my belongings got there, neither of us had any idea… though he had been following me on my search (leaving the prisoners unattended- don’t worry about it) and knew what I was looking for. I estimate that over the past two weeks I have spent 3.25 hours at the jail asking for my things… and I wonder why I’m still surprised when simple things take so much time here? You want to be frustrated, you want to make things change, but then everyone is just so happy for you. They all want to shake your hand, congratulate you on your success… you have to walk out with a smile on your face, at least pleased that you’ve accomplished something this week.

So that’s life in Finote these days- thanks for reading! Sorry I’ve been out of touch for so long, but know that I’m looking forward to seeing you all soon! Much love!

West side for life

2009-06-06T11:01:00.006-05:00

Let’s be honest- it’s been awhile. As a result, this may be a rather long update. Brace yourselves.

To fully grasp current events in Ethiopia, we must go back to April 18th, 9:45pm. It is at this time that my Ethio family demands that I go to sleep. Tomorrow is Easter (Fasika in Amharic; the equivalent of our Christmas to Orthodox Ethiopians) and I must be well rested. They will wake me at 2:00am to begin preparing the chicken feast. To be fair, I insisted on experiencing the holiday in its entirety. When they said 2:00am, what they really meant was 12:45… I really did enjoy my two-hour nap though. The whole family was up to watch the slaughtering of the chicken, though my landlord and the kids promptly went back to sleep. My landlady and I plucked, cleaned, and hacked our chicken into a tasty and delicious stew. When we finished, at 3:00am, we dressed in our finest clothing and headed to church. Naturally.

Nighttime is always eerie in Ethiopia. On normal days, everyone is indoors by 9:00pm at the latest. If you dare to venture out later than that, you will find yourself in a seemingly deserted town, haunted only by dogs and hyenas. The wee hours of Easter morning were equally eerie, except now the whole town was alive, swaddled in their white church clothes, walking the streets like ghosts. The church had the feeling of a place set apart- everyone chanting and bowing together, yet the darkness gave the worship a private, personal feel. Some of the more devout had been at church for 24 hours at this point; others hadn’t eaten for three days. When the service was over, people were jubilant. My friends and neighbors were enthusiastic in telling me that Christ has risen and we were forgiven. And now we must eat meat. Fifty-five days of fasting was over and everyone had a pot of chicken waiting at home.

Easter day was a lot like Christmas day, except with more blood. After eating our spicy chicken at 4:45 am (yummy!) and taking a short nap, we woke again to kill the goat! The whole day was spent at home with family- eating, napping, and then eating again. The day after was for socializing, going to friend’s homes and sharing more meat. Never in my life have I seen people so excited about eating. It was so fun to share this holiday with my Finote Selam community and feel like it really helped me understand so much more about the culture and traditions here.

Fast forward to May 5th, the day that the Jennifer Wilmore arrives in Ethiopia! You may recall that my college roommate came to Ethiopia last summer… I guess once you experience it, you find yourself drawn back! This time Jen was coming from Uganda, where she has been working since February. It was so fun to have her meet all the friends here, see where I’m living, and fulfill an item on my “do to before leaving Ethiopia” list: ride on a traditional papyrus canoe. They use these for fishing on Tana Lake in Bahir Dar and I’ve often watched them, wondering how they don’t sink. Papyrus is surprisingly buoyant. One of my good friends, Teshager, arranged this outing for us and came along- even though he can’t swim and is petrified of water. If you ask him about this experience he will only say, “I don’t want to do this ever again. But J. Lo, she is so nice.”

Having Jen here was so refreshing, a great reminder that communication can be a wonderful thing. It was so nice to share, to be understood fully, and to see how the challenges we are facing in East Africa are similar yet different. I find that the longer I am here, the more immune I get to the things happening around me. You can’t understand it all, take everything in, and so you push it out of your mind. So great to have my roommate come and force me to talk about what we are seeing everyday.

Recently, I ventured out with C. Smith and Jolene to East Gojam to celebrate another friend’s birthday. Christina lives in a pretty rural town, six hours down a dirt road. Once you get there, you never want to leave- partially because the road is so long and partially because the town is so cool. She has made great friends in her community and we spent the weekend hanging out with her students, distracting them when they were supposed to be studying for their exams. One of her students invited us out to his grandma’s house in the rural area and we spent a great afternoon hiking out along a gorge. One of the best things about getting together with other volunteers is that we know how to eat. We’re hours away from anything, yet we’re eating pasta with clam sauce and personal pizzas. It was incredible. Though I thoroughly enjoyed my time in the East, it must be stated that I live in West Gojam and our sugar cane is 78% more sweet than theirs.

In news from Finote Selam, our projects are carrying on!Surprisingly smoothly despite my doubts and fears! The school we are working with to start the mill project recently had a fundraiser to cover costs that weren’t met by the grant. I was skeptical, however the city administration came forward and offered to cover the whole cost of installing electricity. This is huge- a massive weight off my shoulders! They have started building the actually mill house, have purchased most of the big equipment, and should have things going by mid-summer. I know- I’m amazed myself. The resource center is also coming together, thanks to donations by great friends and family. We’re beginning computer classes this summer and also plan to have a weekly film night, which should be a good way to attract people and let them know it’s available.

Sad news, for me, is that summer is upon us. As happy as all the students are to be done, it’s tragic for me to see my friends go back to the rural areas for the summer. As many of them are graduating and going onto university in the fall, I am already saying goodbye to good friends. We did have a congratulations! party today for some of the seniors who live on my street featuring a home-made chocolate cake, popcorn, pineapple, and Crystal Light juice mixes. Though they didn’t know what to make of cake with sugar in it- crazy concept, I know-much fun was had by all. And arrangements are being made to go visit their families in the rural areas this summer, which should be fun.

And that’s the update! Know that I would love to hear from you all! Much love!

Those lazy summer days…

2009-04-16T13:42:00.002-05:00

I’ll be honest- the last few weeks have been a bit mundane, life in the Finote, work as usual. And while there is ample work to keep me busy during the day, I find the evenings and weekends to drag on a bit. Always tea/coffee to be had with friends, food to scrounge up, clothes to be washed, etc… but after a year and a half here, part of me is missing the thrill of new adventure. A girl can only read so much War and Peace before she’s ready to experience action for herself, you know?

All that waiting, studying, preparing invasion plans paid off today. Our days of endless sunshine and heat were interrupted this afternoon by a thunderstorm the likes of which I have never experienced… and I’ve seen some rain in my time. We’re talking hail, standing water up to the top of my stoop, leaks in my ceiling! No one could return to work or school after lunch and all were standing in our doorways gasping in astonishment. When Ethiopians are taken aback by rain, you know it’s a big deal.

Now my parents, in their vast wisdom, recently sent me three super soaker aquifier water guns that have been waiting impatiently to be used. What better time than now, when the heat makes us miserable by 9am? I had been holding off due to water shortages, but with gallons of water pouring off my roof by the second I knew this was the perfect opportunity.

The troops were gathered- two 8-year-old girls who live on my compound. Equipment was issued, trainings were given, surprise attack plans on the neighbors mapped out. The use of technology heretofore never seen in Finote Selam coupled with the element of surprise swung the beginning stages of the battle largely in our favor. They didn’t see us coming, never knew what hit them. However, I learned some valuable warfare lessons today. It should be stated that our neighbors are five boys ranging from age 16 to 25. While momentarily shocked at this unconventional aggression from usually peaceful neighbors, they were quick to regain equilibrium. And though we were using obviously superior artillery, we learned the hard way that sometimes brute force and simple weaponry overpowers even the best-laid plans. It is simple fact that having a bucket of water dumped over your head will get you more significantly wet than being shot by a super soaker aquifier. I wouldn’t call it a defeat- all forces were completely soaked at the time truce was declared… it’s just hard to say whether their soaking was more of a result of the rain or our attacks.

In work related news, we recently received grant money and are on our way to building a mill at the primary school here in town. It’s now in the logistical stages- building the mill house, getting electricity connected, purchasing the equipment. I’ve never been involved with something from start to finish like this before- implementing is an interesting process and takes so much more time and energy than one would anticipate. But it’s great working with the kids who will run the mill- all orphans struggling to pay for school fees, uniforms, workbooks, food, etc. We are having business training for them tomorrow in which hopefully they’ll learn things about saving, reinvesting in their business, etc.

Also, I’ve been trying to work on getting supplies into the libraries of the schools I’ve been working in. The situation is dismal to be honest. Every time you go in, 7 to 10 kids are sharing one resource book from the 1970s. Not sure, but I think some things have changed since then- country borders, recent history, all of science… The surgical team my aunt was here with was so generous to contribute money to any project I was working on- a very daunting experience to be handed money and told “use this however you think will most help people.” So I’ve begun buying books! The good ones are sold in Addis so I’m staging the purchasing process, buying as many books as I can haul back to the Finote on the bus. I started with the elementary school and they were so excited! Atlases, children’s books with pictures, those cool science books that explain why fish live in the sea and why Pluto isn’t a planet anymore (gosh how quickly science changes things). I was also able to purchase books written in Amharic, which I think is cool- there are so few and most resources are in English so it’s hard for the younger kids to get a whole lot out of them. It’s neat to be able to explain that these books came from friends and family in the states, people who have never met them but want to serve Ethiopia however they can- whether it be performing surgeries or giving books. I’ll stick my plug in now- if you have any books you want to get rid of, we will take them! Any subject, any grade, any language (well, English really). Just let me know

Know that I covet your prayers. It is often difficult to track what is being done, being learned, no easy way to measure if projects are going well or what needs to be improved. This tends to get me down, wondering if I’m wasting time or could be doing better. I’ve been praying that God will do what He will despite my getting in the way or fumbling things up. Pray for these kids, that this mill project will become theirs and that they will be excited for the opportunity to work together and improve their current situations. Pray for their families/ caretakers that they will appreciate the work that these kids are doing and not take advantage of the (anticipated) profits. Miss you all! Much love.

Excuse me? Doctor?

2009-03-11T20:14:00.002-05:00

These past two weeks have been such a blur of activity that I hardly know where to start! My Aunt Deloris came to Addis Ababa with World Surgical Foundation, an organization that comes to developing nations to perform operations and train local doctors and nurses. They also bring new medical equipment and donate it to the hospitals they work with. In Addis they were working at the Black Lion Hospital, which had the reputation of being one of the nicest hospitals in Ethiopia when it was opened (in the ‘70s maybe?), but has since fallen into disrepair. I’ll be honest, when I first walked into the hospital I was thinking, "my, this is much nicer than the Finote Selam Hospital." However, after hearing the comments of people who knew what they were talking about, I realized that perhaps my frame of reference was a bit off.

My Aunt asked if I would be interested in coming in, helping the team while they were here, and translating. I don’t think that I really grasped what this meant initially. What it turned out to be was getting up every morning at 6:30am, going to the hospital, donning the ever attractive scrubs, shoe covers, face mask, and hair cover, actually being in the OR, going on rounds with doctors, learning a ton, and not leaving until 6:30pm most days. Without a doubt the longest working days I’ve had since… ever? My first day on the job, I was sent into an operating room where a surgery was taking place and had my first crash course in anatomy. It would have been nice if someone had said, "hey we need you in here, but be prepared for blood and guts,"; but it was fascinating. One of those experiences that could occur only here.

Most of my time was spent in the recovery room, being there when the patients woke up and asking questions such as: Can you stick out your tongue? Do you have pain? Can you cough? Again? I was also sent to talk to patient’s families. Due to my very official appearance and my assumed fluency in Amharic, many people approached me with questions of the medical nature and addressed me as ‘Doctor’. I would listen, thinking that perhaps I could help. Then I would remember that the highest level science course I took in college was Scientific Methods and that medical vocabulary in Amharic is way over my head. I became very good at directing people however.

I had the opportunity to get to know many of the patients and their families because I was with them before and after the surgeries and would go with the doctors to check up on them. Their stories were intense. The teenager from Jimma who had a tumor for four years before his family could save enough money to get into Addis only to find out it had spread too much to do anything. The father who brought his daughter on a two-day bus ride, nearly crippled with fear because his wife had died and his daughter was all he had left. The seven-year old boy from the northern-most part of Ethiopia who was accidentally shot two years ago and was so accustomed to pain that he took almost anything without crying. The teenage girl who had a tumor the size of a watermelon removed from her stomach, then was good to go three days later. The 40-year old law professor with pancreatic cancer who woke up after a 6-hour surgery praising Jesus, in English. The stories go on. It was so exciting to translate for the doctors when they would tell a family that the operation went great, that the patient would live a healthy, normal life after so many years of waiting. Terrible to find something to say when there just weren’t resources available to do anything else for a person, or that maybe if they had seen help sooner… It was a great opportunity to see a side of Ethiopia I hadn’t seen, to realize the desperate needs they have in terms of medical care, hospital technicians, nursing practices, surgical training. Things I don’t necessarily understand, but I could see the positive impact the team had in just the two weeks they were here. Imagine if the people of Ethiopia had that year round?

It was really great having my Aunt Deloris here. Her family have gone on medical missions for years and have talked about what a life-changing experience it is. It was neat to share that experience with her, to see how much work and energy she puts into serving others. I had no idea how much work went into nursing, how much preparation and forethought was needed. It’s all just really intense. Aunt Deloris and I also spent some time in Finote Selam and they always love visitors. She got to meet the people I live and work with, see my house, and just get out of the big city a bit. I’ve come to really appreciate the opportunity to share experiences with people. It means so much to have a picture of what my family does and to also have them understand what I’m doing. I’ve come away from the last two weeks really encouraged. And exhausted. Why do you work so much? (Actual question asked to Aunt Deloris by an Ethiopian nurse.)

Since leaving Addis, scriptures commanding us to serve the sick and the needy have taken on a whole new meaning. I have a lot of questions about my role, as a person without medical skills, in caring for those who cannot care for themselves. I don’t have many answers but I’ve found, at least for me, that taking time to form a relationship with them and listening to their needs is a first step to compassion. Also, James 5:14-16 has been a great encouragement-"Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith will raise him up. And if he has committed sins, he will be forgiven. Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working." Please join me in prayer for Dawit, Tigist, Haptamu, Yibeltal, Tadeku, Muhmamed, and Selam as they continue to face discomfort and pain. For strength for them and for their families. Also, please pray that I would learn to better serve those in my community who are facing illness or other challenges.

Much love for you all!

The Exciting Moment Moving to White House

2009-02-01T21:47:00.002-06:00

Here in Ethiopia, we don't just make arrangements to watch the Inauguration. Nope. We have The Exciting Moment Moving to White House parties. Attendees receive large thousand dollar bills with Obama's face on them and have the opportunity to take their picture with the winner of the Miss Obama Beauty Contest and Cultural Quiz Show. Never a dull moment at the Obama Café.

The last two months have been a blur of movement, activity, and much time spent with family and friends. When I look back on it, I'm amazed at how normal most parts of being home felt. Playing games with the family at the kitchen table, driving my car, eating grapes and krisdip with the posse, soccer and music with the Birmingham family, squeezing into Jamie's bed only to be pushed off by Jen in the middle of the night, going to the lookout. It was just like I remembered it, liked I hoped it would be. Though the average was about 5 hours of sleep a night, I came away from these things more energized, more refreshed, more encouraged than I've been in quite a while.

These things make it ok to come back to Ethiopia- they ensure that you have the support you know you'll need to finish what was started. They remind you that, though things change, family and friends are always family and friends. It's the unexpected things that happen at home that make coming back more difficult. When the joy of seeing family is clouded by a sadness and confusion that doesn't make sense. How are you supposed to walk away from that and go on? How about when friends are incredible and throw New Years Newsies parties? When they are intentional about taking time to share their lives and hearts… can you live without that community? It seems that the last year was about learning what it means to be in Christ alone but three weeks at home emphasized the importance of being in community with family and the Body of Christ. All that to say- I've come back with a lot of questions about what this next year is supposed to look like and not many answers.

There have been some definite blessings in the whole process of returning, the main one being Kathryn coming back with me! Imagine Finote Selam's surprise when they realized I had another sister! For some reason, they all thought she was here to stay for the next year so they're devastated when I say she has returned to school. They are also quick to point out that my parents have made "a great mistake" by not providing us with any brothers. I can't help but agree. Kat and I traveled around, hitting all the historical sites in the area, which was fun and exhausting. Kat's best quote came when expressing her thoughts of the Finote by saying, "it's very local." I still don't know what that means, but it seems accurate.

After Kat left, it was time for Ethiopia to celebrate Timkat, or Epiphany. On January 18th Christen Smith and I went up to Gondar, a town that is known for its Epiphany festivities. It wasn't something either of us particularly wanted to do due to the extraordinary amount of people who flock there, but it felt like we should experience it while we're here, so we went. We got into town just in time to watch the day-before-Epiphany parade. The sheer number of Ethiopian boys parading in the streets, waving sticks, and pounding drums was incredible. Then the priests came out with their umbrellas, carrying the Arc of the Covenant, which seemed to simultaneously bring order and more chaos to the parade, if that's possible.

The next morning we woke at 4:00am (the sun is not up at this time) to walk down to the baths where the big ceremony takes place. We made our way to sit on some poorly constructed wooden bleachers that later cracked under the weight of more than a thousand people. That was fun. The early morning hours were surreal, with Ethiopians swaddled from head to toe in their traditional white holiday clothes, chanting and praying. They surrounded the pool of water holding candles, which made the whole place feel set apart somehow. As the sun came up, the priestly processional made its way to line one side of the pool and the chanting intensified.

At about 9:30am (we've been awake for five and a half hours at this point) the head priest said a blessing and lowered a wooden contraption that was lit on fire into the pool. This was the cue for people to jump into the water to receive the blessing. Might I add that it was freezing? One kid caused a splash that doused the holy wooden contraption, which one might have anticipated. However, the priest was not pleased and proceeded to smack the kid upside the head with his prayer stick. It's been my experience that head trauma is best when combined with water sports. At this point everything paused while the fire was relit and the water re-blessed. Madness ensued with people jumping from trees into holy water, trying to fill bottles of holy water, trying to get splashed with holy water, others trying to escape the cold splashes of holy water. At one point I was lifted off my feet entirely and swept in the direction opposite of where I was intending to go. Three minutes later I found myself being smashed against a rock wall. It would have been terrifying if I hadn't been so tired that I had ceased caring what happened anymore.

One of most amazing aspects of this whole experience were the ridiculous tourists- and there were tons of them. One guy planted himself in the midst of the line of priests while they were saying the blessing with his massive camera. A preist, a policeman, and a soldier came asking him to move and you could just see this kid shaking his head no. At some point you would think that he would look around and think "I'm not Ethiopian, I'm not a priest, and I'm not even Orthodox so maybe I should go sit where all the other tourists are sitting a respectful distance away." The military guy had to drag him away instead, causing a scene. The beautiful thing is that with the zoom lens this guy had, he could have been sitting a mile away and have gotten the same shots. We used our zoom lenses to get some mug shots of him so if we saw him on the streets later we could tackle him. No such luck. If people are going to be that disrespectful, then no one should be allowed to travel. Sorry. Soapbox ended.

So now I'm back in Finote Selam and, as I'm sure you've heard, we won the opening game of the West Gojam Football (soccer) Tournament today. Nine teams from all over the region are in town this week to compete so as you can see, we're kind of a big deal. Winning a game is quite an accomplishment seeing as how Ethiopians are,admittedly, not the best soccer players. In addition, our field is made of rocks so it takes skill to anticipate which direction the ball will bounce. It also requires skill to not hit your head and get knocked unconscious when you fall to the ground. This happened to three players at the game I watched today but only one of those kids was from the Finote. It's shaping up to be a good season. Did you know that in Ethiopia after you score a goal it's cultural for the team to charge the coach and kiss his knees?

So I'm readjusting to being back though there have been some significant changes that are making it difficult, which I shall list: a girl who had become a great friend has moved to Addis Ababa, my internet guys (who are my favorite) moved to Debre Markos, my awesome post office guy has moved to Bure, my juice family's son who gives me free juice is moving to Addis, and the Women's Affairs lady that I love working with has been moved to Dembecha. I feel that Peace Corps has resulted in me developing a fear of abandonment. But seriously, it's a bit disheartening to find that many of the people that you've tried to be intentional about forming relationships over the past year are gone. Again, still trying to figure out what this next year is supposed to look like in regards to relationships, work, and personal growth so if you'd like to join me in prayer for these things, know that I would appreciate it. Also know that I'd love to hear from you all! Much love!

In my life, never have I seen such a season

2008-11-10T16:35:00.004-06:00

I imagine that everyone back home is talking about the election so… I will too! It's certainly the only thing we talk about here. Walking down the streets of Finote the last few days, all I've heard is "Kristie! Congra!" People are so happy for me that I feel like I've won the election myself. Never before have I been so overwhelmingly congratulated for something that I've had absolutely no role in. (Sidenote: where do you think absentee ballots go when they aren't needed?)

Like most things these days, watching a United States Presidential election from outside of America was a new experience. I went to Bahir Dar (the big city where electricity and CNN are guarantees) and stayed up all night with an assortment of Americans, Ethiopians, Germans, Swedes, Dutchmen, and Brits. Partisan politics aside, I was enormously proud to be an American Tuesday night. I'm so thankful to be part of a country where people can go to the polls without fear of imprisonment or persecution if they vote for the "wrong" party. I'm proud to see so many people utilizing their freedom of choice and going out to vote. And what an example it sets for other nations to see the loser of a free, democratic election step aside so graciously; to hear the winner promise to listen to the voices of all his constituents regardless of political party, economic standings, or ethnicity. I think a powerful message has been sent to countries that have gone years or even decades without open, fair, blood-shed free elections.

That being said, Obamamania08 is getting intense here and it's hard to know how to respond. For Ethiopians to see the direct descendant of an African be elected to one of the most powerful offices in the world is a huge thing and I hope it encourages them to take school, work, and community involvement more seriously. However, it's easy to see them placing all their hopes in one man. I can't tell you how many times I've heard in the past three days, "now Obama will come here and fix all our problems." A common phrase in Amharic is 'Xheyhabir yistaling' which means 'God bless you/ give you strength.' One of my friends heard a cab driver tell a little girl 'Obama yistaling.' He explained this by saying, "God number one. Obama number two." Though most people wouldn't take it this far, at least openly, in many ways Obama has become a kind of deity for people. How do you tell people that when they put all their hopes in one human being they will inevitably be disappointed? How do you explain that he is not going to come across the ocean and immediately set everything right? How do you delicately say, "The same constraints and limitations apply to Obama as they do to everyone else. And he just might have to give other interests priority over Ethiopia." Maybe I should just come out and say, "he's not God" but I doubt anyone would hear me at this point.

I guess what I'm slowly realizing is what a huge impact our decisions have on the rest of the world. And I'm increasingly humbled by the responsibilities that come with being a US citizen. Even the BBC was running a commercial before the election that anticipated a result that would change the global economy, the food crisis, and poverty. Can we really do that? And what role are we as citizens expected to play?

In Ethiopian news, it's still raining here in the north. This has moved beyond simply a muddy annoyance and is now a genuine concern. Teff, the grain used to make injera, came up nicely in September and is supposed to be harvested now but they can't because it's too wet. Much has already been lost and walking down the streets you can hear the farmers talking about it. The rains failed down south earlier in the year and weren't strong enough this summer so their crops aren't great either. It's hard to say what's going to happen but with food prices continuing to rise, it looks like things could get pretty tough soon.

We just had our Peace Corps mid-service conference last week in which we were congratulated for making it a whole year! All the volunteers and PC staff went bowling one night, which was one of the more incredible experiences of my life. It was like bowling in the 1930s or something. Scores kept on paper, shoes that smelled like they hadn't been washed since the 1930s, pins set up by pin setter-upper men who were probably born in the 1930s, unwaxed wood floors from trees cut down in the 1930s… amazing. And most of the Ethiopian staff had never been bowling before so that was hilarious.

Life in the Finote has been awesome as well lately. The other day I instituted take your daughter to work day with my landlord, Ato Genanow. He is a veterinarian and often goes out to the rural areas to give vaccinations to large animals. The way this is done is the farmers gather all their cows into a large field and small boys wrangle large bulls and Ato Genanow runs up and jabs them with a needle. The community we went to was awesome- next time I move to Ethiopia I'm living there. It was cool to see Ato Genanow in the work setting. People respect him because he keeps their means of livelihood healthy, so almost everyone we ran into referred to him as 'zemed' or relative. We got a ton of food and respection, as they like to say.

So life here is good. I'm busier than I ever have been here, trying to help one of the local schools get a grant to start an agricultural project. If it goes through 200 orphans and disabled students will have the opportunity to get business training, earn money for school supplies and uniforms, and have access to better food. Hopefully that works out. Grant writing is tedious. I'm also teaching English, which is a lot of fun. I just like hanging out with students- they're hilarious. I'm working on getting the girls to be less shy around me, which is probably the biggest challenge in my life right now. I'm discovering that I'm not a good teacher however… it's just so much work and the students expect you to actually know things. Who knew that was part of the deal?

In other news, I will be heading to the United States of America in 35
days. I miss you guys! And cereal. But you all more! Much love.

The other, other white meat

2008-10-04T07:51:00.007-05:00

Happy New Year! My how the time does fly. On September 11th we celebrated the beginning of the year 2001 here in Ethiopia. To help bring in the New Year, my good friend Patrick came over to travel around! We, along with two volunteer friends, headed up to Lalibela to see the famous rock-hewn churches. Lalibela (previously named Roha) was the capital of a large dynasty during the 12th and 13th centuries and the 11 rock churches we saw were built during that time. King Lalibela got it into his head that he wanted to build a new Jerusalem and began an ambitious building project. He also named things after the old Jerusalem- Calvary, the River Jordan- which is a little disorienting. The churches are amazing, many of them completely cut free of the massive slabs of stone that surround them. It's hard to reconcile this ornate, detailed, powerful picture of Ethiopia past with the Ethiopia that I currently live in. Discuss Lalibela with any Orthodox Ethiopian and they'll tell you that angels did much of the church building. It wouldn't take much to convince me. I just don't understand how a person could chisel 50 feet down into a slab of rock and carve out a freestanding, three-story tall church in the shape of the cross. Apparently neither could some 14th century pilgrims to Lalibela. They were so amazed that they decided to up and leave their decaying bones laying around for the enjoyment of tourist for centuries to come.

Notes about tourism in Ethiopia: It's not safe for children, people who are not sure-footed, or daredevils: there are often no guardrails where there should be guardrails. They haven't gotten the hang of preserving ancient relics: books that are older than the United States of America are just laying around for anyone to thumb through. And there are bones everywhere. Just so you're aware.

After getting stuck in Lalibela for an extra day, Pat and I headed straight for the Finote. Why no guidebook has deemed Finote Selam worthy of mention, I do not know. We had a full day of monkey tracking and hiking out to the local waterfall. Sure, monkeys are a little less predictable during rainy season and the towering cornfields are disorienting when trying to locate the waterfall. but it's still lovely. It was great to have a friend come, to have that touch of home, to share my life here, to introduce new friends, to demonstrate my skills at the coffee ceremony. And to have someone else experience the rat situation and know that I'm not exaggerating. No lie- a rat crawled across my forehead the other night. I stopped messing around, put out poison, and the next morning it was lying dead on my stoop. The family I live with has not stopped reenacting my freak-out 5 days later. Don't worry- there are still two more living in my ceiling.

The party didn't stop with Pat's departure- we're still celebrating holidays here! Last weekend was the celebration of Meskel- the cross. This is when we celebrate Queen Helena finding the cross Jesus was crucified on by lighting a huge bonfire and following the smoke of the incense to the cross. Some will say that this story can be found in the Bible. That's debatable. This was probably the most exciting Ethiopian holiday I've experienced thus far, however. On Friday, the eve of Meskel, literally all of Finote Selam gathered in a large field beside the St. George Church. The priests were there with their umbrellas, the ark, and big sticks that they swing around in the air while chanting. There was also a massive bonfire that I swear would rival the Texas A&M bonfire. As dusk approached, the priests circled the bonfire with large flaming sticks to the sound of beating drums.

After the fire was lit and we sang and danced around it for an acceptable length of time, we took charred pieces of wood from the bonfire and used the ash to mark crosses on our foreheads. We then formed a drum beating, Ethiopian flag waving, chanting processional behind the priests to make our way back towards town. It was such a neat sense of community and a feeling of joy to be celebrating as a body with the people I live and work with. even if the history of the holiday is a bit sketch.

The actual day of Meskel began at 4:30am when the whole town awoke and lit millions of bonfires. The sky had the eerie glow of a town on fire and the smell of incense lingered for days. How everyone could be so cognizant, alert, and enthusiastically beating drums at that hour is beyond me- but it was really cool. The rest of the day was spent in community drinking coffee, dancing in the street, and eating meat. So much meat. The Peace Corps community has begun referring to the meat we consume as 'the other, other white meat.' It can be located at your local meat house- huge slabs of it just hanging there waiting to be gnawed on. Don't mistake it for the tender and juicy other white meat. This other, other meat is nice and chewy and you can feel it clogging your arteries as it goes down. Yet this fatty substance is a delicacy so what choice do you have, I ask you?

Work has been frustrating as of late, but I've been trying to step back and gain some perspective. It is sometimes easy to get caught up in the pride of being a volunteer. It is easy to say "I am giving up my time, my energy, my comforts to serve you people. You should want to work with me." It's easy to focus on the fact that I'm doing this alone, I'm living amongst the people, I'm living on less than other foreigners in this country, I'm riding public transportation. Finote Selam should recognize the sacrifices I'm making and be tripping over themselves to start projects with me. It hit me last week that, as much as I try to live like those in my community, it will never be the same because I made a choice to be here and it is within my power to choose to leave tomorrow. The people I live with don't have this luxury of mobility; they didn't choose this lifestyle. They also do not have the luxury of deciding to drop their daily tasks to help me out because I cannot promise tangible compensation. They have to earn money to meet their needs and volunteering time and energy is not a luxury the people I work with can afford. When I focus on the ways in which I live like those around me, it's easy to forget that their money does not just magically appear in a bank account at the beginning of every month regardless of the work they have or have not done. It's easy to revert to thinking about poverty as a vague concept rather than something my neighbors face daily because we're eating the same food and washing our clothes by hand together. But they're fighting for their food and I have enough money to pay someone else to wash my clothes if I wanted to. The last weeks have been intensely humbling and have raised some challenging questions, but I pray that they have also led me to be more sensitive and understanding rather than frustrated.

Next week, October 7th marks my one-year mark in Ethiopia. So strange how long a year can seem and yet how quickly it goes by. So strange how comfortable you can feel in a place after only one year and yet continue to be reminded by people yelling 'ferengi ferengi! (foreigner foreigner!)' that you don't really belong here. Strange that you can feel increasingly confident and supported through new friendships and families that have formed over the past year and yet still long so deeply for friends and family back home. All in all, a strange place to be in right now- but a good one. I am thankful for the peace and confidence that God has provided lately that this is where I am supposed to be today and He'll be there to let me know when that changes.

I don't say this enough, but thank you all for the support and encouragement you've shown this past year. I can't begin to say how it has held me up and pushed me forward. I thank God every time I think of you all and trust me- that's often. I miss you all! 70 days!! Much love!

Finote Selam is the place where you survive

2008-08-31T19:46:00.001-05:00

You know what's great about Ethiopia? Two birthdays. On the first one, your American friends come to the Finote, you hike out to the local waterfall, do some exploring, play cards while drinking mango and avocado juice, sing birthday songs and blow out large '2' and '3' candles at the Extreme Hotel (pronounced "X-trim"). On your second birthday, 6 days later, the internet guys throw you a legit Ethiopian birthday party complete with coffee, popcorn, oranges, small cookies that are made without sugar, and of course the required large '2' and '3' candles. More singing is had by all, however, this time when they don't really know the tune or all the English words… improvising is best.

You know what else is great? The Olympics. You may not know this, but I am kind of a fanatic about the whole thing. This is the first summer Olympics in 8 years that Carney and I haven't made iron-on t-shirts of our favorite athletes. I've made up for it by wearing red, white, and blue every day for the last week as well as sporting my awesome Ethiopian beanie. Ethiopians don't mess around with their Olympics, especially when it comes to track and field. They won a few gold medals and went crazy each time- yelling in the streets, waving flags. My office took field trips every afternoon to watch the races on the big screen in town. An experience that will go down in the top 10 best Ethiopia experiences: watching Tirunesh Dibaba school everyone in the 10,000 with my friend Anna at a café with tons of Ethiopians. The café erupted when Tirunesh crossed the line, including Anna and I. The Ethiopians fell silent when the cameras switched to the American who finished third… but Anna and I kept cheering. Loudly. At first our friends didn't know what to do with us, but then they started cheering too… more for us than for the girl who placed third. Another good experience that has come out of the Olympics- teaching the Finote the proper use of the verb "to school." Ex: The United States schooled Angola in basketball.

Peace Corps mission numbers 2 and 3: Sharing American culture with Ethiopia and sharing Ethiopian culture with America. If the Olympics hasn't made me an ideal volunteer, I don't know what would.

In other news… it's still summer here and that means it's still cold and rainy. With going on foot being the Finote's only mode of transportation, rain tends to shut everything down. I've learned to seek shelter when the thunder comes and to settle in for a cup of tea. Or two. Also, I never leave home without reading material. Who knows how long you'll be stuck? The rain also means that not much is getting done. Say you want to go talk to someone about a project… you could go, but you'll get covered in mud and the chances that the person is actually there are slim. So mostly people just get to a place and then stay there during rainy season. It's interesting.

Another volunteer, Christen, was in town last weekend to watch the closing ceremonies and we took advantage of a rare sunny morning to get outside and do some more exploring. We headed out to the hills, which are exploding with crops, and wandered around the farming trails for a few hours. We would get lost in the maze of towering cornfields and then be dumped suddenly into an open field full of cattle. We shocked quite a few farmers when we just appeared out of nowhere, I'm sure. I love getting out of the Finote just a little- amazing how different life is for people just a 15-minute walk out of town. Amazing how different the people are just a 15-minute walk out of town. Amazing how much greener the valley looks and how much closer the mountains seem. It's a good way to get your bearings and remember where you are.

By noon the clouds were becoming ominous and we were in a rush to get back to town, which involved crossing a river. I will confess - being here sometimes leads me to do stupid things that I would, under different circumstances, think twice about. But instead I think, "I'm in the peace corps, I'm in Ethiopia, and I'm wearing Chacos. I can cross this river even though it's swollen to twice its normal size and is moving rapidly." False. More like 'I can fall into this river -soaking my jeans, t-shirt, and cell phone- have to be pulled out by a farmer boy who is scared the white kid is drowning, and walk back into town dripping wet because the river is swollen to twice its normal size and is moving rapidly.' That's not embarrassing.

In conclusion, I shall share a story that gives me hope for the future and also serves as watermark for how much I have grown in the past ten months. One morning -on a recent weekend trip to Anna's house- as we were getting ready for our day of accomplishment, the cat the Anna has quasi-adopted wandered into her house. I noticed that it was particularly interested in something behind the bookshelf. Anna has also been afflicted with rats, so we pulled the bookshelf out a bit to see if cat was onto something. As it turns out, the rat was just chilling behind the bookshelf all morning. Nice. Mama cat goes crazy, attacks, and much painful squeaking is heard. Rat manages to squeeze completely under the bookshelf, ticking Mama off. Anna and I eventually decide that eradicating the rat is worth whatever mess Mama is about to make of it, so we pick up the bookshelf allowing Mama to grab the rat by the neck in one fell swoop and cart it outside. As we stood on Anna's porch analyzing the technique Mama was using to strangle the life out of the rat I came to two realizations:
1. Hope for future - I too can eliminate my rat problem if I find such an effective and efficient cat.
2. Watermark of growth - Ten months ago I would not have been able to watch such a brutal death without becoming nauseous or at least repulsed. Now I can unflinchingly appreciate that at least it won't be eating Anna's food or waking her up at night.

Miss you all! Much love!

Currie Way meets Ethiopia

2008-08-18T19:01:00.019-05:00

over-

looking

Addis

roommates in Africa!

Jen and Kris helping to dig

a well at Lake Langano

with Water is Life

Jen's favorite food. You tear off a piece

of the pancake-like base (injera), hold it in your

fingers, and scoop up some of the topping

(mashed veggies & meat)

in Zanzibar with Alisha

feeding turtles

this is my road in rainy season!

we are trying to make habitats

that are pleasing for the malaria mosquitos.

Thirteen Months of Sunshine

2008-07-27T13:24:00.002-05:00

Whoever coined this slogan for Ethiopia obviously never lived in the country. For starters: sunshine? Haven't seen a truly sunny day up here in the north since May. The rain has been pounding my roof incessantly for the last 36 hours. The only option in footwear these days are my beauty Target rain boots, much to the delight of the townsfolk. I have adapted. I can't describe the fear that grips me every time I start down the road in and out of my house. The mud is a force to be reckoned with. It almost got the best of me- I had a nearly fatal slip. I escaped with only one arm coated in mud up to the elbow. I can't hope to be so fortunate next time. Next, lets evaluate this thirteenth "month." Since we like to be uniform with our calendar, we give each month 30 days. This leaves us with 5 day left over, which we give the name Pagumey and call a "month." Five days isn't even a week. It doesn't deserve to be named, much less incorporated into a national slogan.

As messy as the rain makes everything, everyone is thankful for it. I've never experienced life that is so dependent on the weather for survival. Never fully grasped what it means for people to see the rivers fill up and the land coming to life. Never recognized how much food security can ease burdens and give confidence. I've taken Wal-Mart and its never-ending supply of food for granted.

Much has happened since I last updated… most significantly- my college roommate of three years, Jen, came to Ethiopia! She has been traveling the world with a team studying the UN millennium development goals and they stopped in Ethiopia for two weeks. The team was awesome and let me follow them around for the whole two weeks… beginning the day of their arrival at 3:30am when I met them at the airport and where I may or may not have squealed and plowed into Jen immediately upon seeing her. They looked at projects around and to the south of Addis, allowing me to see a side of Ethiopia I've never experienced. It was so encouraging to go to places like the Hamlin Fistula hospital where women are so thoroughly cared for and nurtured. Women who were previously ostracized from their families and communities because of injuries that arise from complications in childbirth are suddenly given lodging, food, clothing, blankets, surgery, physical therapy, literacy classes, skills training, legal counsel, and medical follow-up. They are treated with love, dignity, and respect. I can't imagine what this must mean for a woman who has had to bear the shame of leaking urine uncontrollably. The team also visited orphanages, technical schools that assist orphans in developing job skills, midwifery-training programs, and sports programs that help youth build life skills for the future. I came away excited about the things that are going on in Ethiopia and encouraged to try and help those who are doing such good work.

Much of the team's time was spent in the rural and beautiful area of Langano working with the Selam Water is Life well-digging program. I've never been in a place like Langano- the poverty is stark even in contrast with the Finote. The kids have the red highlights in their hair and distended bellies- whether from malnutrition or worms. Water is Life is working to bring safe drinking water as well as physical, spiritual, and economic growth to the rural poor. Again, I was amazed at the thoroughness of the program. They've thought of everything. They start with the foundation of serving people out of the love of Christ. They build on this by providing clean water and sanitation education, which reduces the number of people suffering from amoebas and diarrhea. It also enables people to plant gardens and keep them watered during dry season. The staple crop in this area is corn, which doesn't lead to a very balanced or diversified diet. I've never seen so many corn fields. For miles- as far as the eye can see- corn. They are hoping to see improved nutrition as a result of greater access to water. Water is Life hopes to one day introduce micro-enterprise training with the end goal of job creation that would enable these people to move past subsistence living.

One of the highlights for me about the time at Langano was getting to know the well-digging teams. Digging the wells is intense, arm-straining, blister-inducing work that is done by using a pulley to slam a drill bit into the ground. Community members provide the labor so that they are able to take ownership of the device that will so impact their lives. They are led by guys in their mid-to-late 20s who have been trained by Selam Water is Life. Most of them were brought up in the Selam Orphanage and attended the Selam Technical School. Yared, the leader of the teams, is by far one of the most incredible Ethiopians. Ever. Right behind Emperor Haile Selassie but before Teddy Afro definitely. He was orphaned at age 8 when his parents were killed during the war between the Derg and the opposition. His mother was killed while holding Yared and he too was injured and spent time in a hospital before going to the orphanage. He rose to become a shop master at the technical school before being asked to help with the new water initiative. His impact among the communities he serves is apparent. He could easily be mayor. Everyone knows Yared's name and his affection for the people is contagious. Despite setbacks and the loss of more of his family, Yared continues to be hopeful, to set high goals. He is not content with his job even though he his given much responsibility and even a pick-up truck (kind of a big deal). He wants to continue his education, to learn more about engineering, so that he can continue to serve others. The other guys had similar stories and incredible work ethic as well… I learned a lot from them.

Something else that I learned while with the team is how quickly my concept of what is and is not normal changes these days. For instance, when Jen was here it seemed like a very normal thing to be crammed into the cab of a pickup with my roommate and Yared chasing hyenas through the local landfill. It seemed like this was how things were supposed to be, how they always had been. Not unusual at all. Who doesn't spend their evenings chasing hyenas? It's been a strange to readjust to just hearing the hyenas howl down the street from my house, not being brave enough to go out and chase them on my own. Just doesn't seem pertinent to chase hyenas without a pickup truck. Or my roommate.

To help recover from the loss of Jen, I immediately traveled to Zanzibar, an island off the coast of Tanzania. There I met another college friend, Alisha, for five days of seafood, sand, and water. You may be thinking, "my, but it seems that Kristen has taken to being away from the Finote for long periods of time." It's true. But the students I work with have all gone back to their families for the summer so I don't have much to do. Lay off. I will now share some facts on Zanzibar.

* As you fly in, you'll note the remarkable number of paved streets. What infrastructure!
* Guests from South Africa to Zanzibar will say things like, "I'm so ready to leave. This place is so dirty" and "If I have to eat one more egg-oh-my-gosh I'll just die." I myself was astounded that they A) have white buildings and B) manage to keep them white. And the Mexican omelet was simply tasty and delicious. I'd eat one right now.
* People say things like, "I don't know, but I imagine in my head…" What a creative way to give people wrong directions! I respect that.
* Zanzibarians are healthy. No malnourished babies, no contestants for the Gojam-No-Leg Competition. Just normal sized people. I attribute this to the wide variety of food available to them.
* Lobster, crab, shrimp, prawns, shark, octopus, fish, tuna, chicken… so much chicken. And eggplant. I didn't even know I liked eggplant.
* Ice cream. So much ice cream. Sometimes twice a day. I'm not ashamed.
* There is an active "Zanzibar for Obama" Association, complete with life-sized portraits. The man who runs it has business cards which state 'Zanzibar for Obama Volunteer. Also expert tour guide.' He also has a petition you can sign… not really sure what he's petitioning for or why exactly Zanzibar is for Obama, but that's just funny.
* Fotozani occurs nightly. A dark alley crowed with vendors grilling up their catch of the day. Or yesterday's catch. Or maybe the day before that? Who knows really how long the seafood you're eating has been sitting there. All that matters is that it's not served on injera and it's delicious.
* Not only are the showers hot in Zanzibar, but they come out of the spigot with gusto! It's like they're excited about being bountiful and so hot that they want everyone to be happy about being clean. As much as I love cold water bucket baths… wait… nope. No I don't.
* Beaches, waves, sand, water, Indian Ocean.
* Mountain Dew. There is Mountain Dew in Zanzibar. Mt. Dew is easy to forget about. It's one of those things you only drink on long road trips or with your dad while eating subs & bar-b-q chips. You don't realize you miss it until you see it. Then you must have it immediately.

So that's life lately. I'm back in the Finote after being away for quite awhile. Getting off the bus is always the hardest part of coming back. That feeling of losing all anonymity, of everyone knowing you, of having every move observed and commented upon… it's intimidating. But after you make that first step you remember that you have friends here and that you're really excited to see them again. I wouldn't mind, however, if the whole town didn't hear that I slipped in the mud. I have to go get some sleep now. My landlord just graduated with a diploma in veterinary science and we're having a big party tomorrow. Gotta get up early and help slaughter the chicken. Yum. Miss you all. Much love

Pictures at Long Last

2008-06-23T21:33:00.027-05:00

Cheese in Addis!

the office volleyball team

Kary & Mom visit for SpringBreak

Smith & I trying to understand the high-tech flight schedule at Bahir Dar airport

Melissa Gibson & Sarah Wolf in Addis

A hat I bought off a kid and mailed to Cheese.

Simien Mountain hike

last camp site;
highest & coldest one

swallowing a rainbow

on top of our world

Saturday May 17th, 2008: Hanni in the Finote

2008-05-28T14:30:00.003-05:00

6:30am- Hanni snooze #1.
6:35am- Hanni snooze #2.
6:40am- Hanni gets up. Washes 3 days worth of dishes.
6:45am- Straw awakened by emergency tekemat program (don't ask). Is laughed at by landlord's wife.
7:00am- Straw washes 3 days worth of dishes. Makes eggs in non-stick pan (what an invention!)
7:30am- Hanni to Selihome's (best Ethiopian food this side of the Gorge)- tea and eggs for only 4.75birr.
7:53am- Hanni encounters crazy man in bus station. Selam nesh? (Are you at peace?) Dehna nesh? (Are you fine?) I love you nesh. (Are I love you.)
8:00am- Hanni on bus. False alarm on actual departure.
8:07am- Hanni gives spontaneous HIV education on methods of transmission.
8:30am- Hanni actually departs Bahir Dar.
10:00am- Straw heads to market. Poked by approx 10,000 little old women;typical for market day.
- Hanni sitting in Injebara for unknown reason.
10:45am- Straw goes on wild goose chase all over the Finote for peas (current food obsession)
11:15am- Hanni takes excursion to Burie, the blackhole of West Gojam.
11:30am- Straw leaves house, concerned about lack of cell phone service and Hanni being unable to find her house. Informs everyone on street to be on the lookout for "layla ferenji." (another foreigner)
11:35am- Straw at post office. No sign of Hanni.
11:40am- Straw hangs out with internet guys. Tells them to watch for Hanni.
11:42am- Straw goes to bus station for 1st time to look for Hanni.
11:44am- Hanni exits bus in front of internet shop. Pointed in general direction of Straw's house by internet guys. Abandoned on side street.
11:46am- Straw receives sketchy handshake by creepo, informed that bus tickets for Addis (Hanni needs to go the next day) will be available at 1:00pm, and is urgently beckoned by internet friend to return to shop as Hanni is waiting there.
11:47am- Hanni is picked up by friends (??) of Straw's who inform her that Straw is from Oklahoma and very sociable. People Straw has never seen before yet know exactly where she lives.
11:48am- Straw at internet shop. Told Hanni has gone to her house.
11:49am- Hanni walks past Straw's landlord's sister's (Marta) shop. Is told to wait there by Marta, but Hanni decides to go to house instead. Is told by children at house that Straw is not home. "She has gone to look for friend." Hanni responds that she is friend. Returns to Marta's shop.
11:50am- reunion in front of Marta's shop! Overjoyed and relieved. Return to Straw's house.
12:40am- bus station visit #2 to "pick up ticket." Told to find Tsigay… if only we has realized how important this would be… instead get caught up in angry mob waiting to put names on a list. Watch a woman pound a man with her fist. Wait.
12:50am- discuss Miss Kim (Peace Corps volunteer in the Finote 10 years ago) from Washington, as predicted by Straw, with Sophie's teacher. He helps get Hanni's name on list.
1:00pm- name on list. Told to return at 2:30pm for ticket. This is very important as all the tickets will be gone by 3:00pm. Do not be late.
1:05pm- Walk to Extrim Hotel.
1:15pm- tasty and delicious shiro.
2:00pm- bus station visit #3. We wanted to be early.
2:05pm- told to come back at 3:00pm. Straw decides to surprise Hanni with exciting discovery.
2:20pm- arrive at discovery: waterfall. Beauty. Scary bridge, vultures, and excessive amounts of trash. Less beauty.
2:45pm- bus station visit #4. Followed by 11 children.
2:45pm-3:15pm- wait. Confused.
3:15pm- Straw departs for emergency tekemat program. Hanni feels stares of people intensify 10-fold.
3:30pm- Straw returns, bringing a small child of unknown origin who seems to know Straw very well. Hanni has moved 30 feet.
3:35pm- sit on log.
3:40pm- ask official-ish looking man about possibility of ticket. Confusion. Lookers-on confirm 'wait. Bus has not yet arrived from Addis.' Skepticism about "system" grows.
3:45pm- Begin to play hangman. Attract large and uncomfortably close crowd. Small child of unknown origin hangs on Straw. Hangman words reflect desperation: inefficiency, inside my comfort zone, Djibouti.
4:00pm- Ato Kassahun shows up. Straw wonders how long it will take Hanni to notice world's longest fingernails. Hanni notices immediately. Kassahun begins incomprehensible exchange about looking for a carpenter. Kassahun then becomes the enforcer.
4:05pm- Kassahun brings us Tsigay. Told we may "order him as a brother." He is "manager of bus station system." Wait.
4:10pm- shay/bunna (tea/coffee). Offered eggs. Sit next to pant-less boy in deck chairs that have 2 legs. Propped up on logs.
4:12pm- false alarm. Bus arrives from Jiga. Sit back down.
4:15pm- Straw threatens to go buy bread and bananas. Hanni refuses to allow her to leave. Girl of unknown origin returns. Says bus is now in Jiga. We are doubtful of her authority. She now hangs on Hanni.
4:23pm- bus arrives, in all of it's crimson and yellow glory, from Jiga. Girl of unknown origin was right. Hundreds of people make mad dash. Do not think to lose sight of Tsigay.
4:25pm- general chaos. Wait. Shamagely (old man) is almost crushed by falling suitcase.
4:26pm- notice that boy standing immediately to Hanni's right has made interesting decision to grow out left hand fingernails and paint them metallic pink. Wait. Chaos.
4:29pm- Tsigay moves away slightly. Crowd leans forward. Choas. Uncertainty. Wait.
4:30pm- bus turns around. Tsigay boards.
4:30:30pm- Hanni beckoned, "come on." Receives "nay" (come here) gesture. She runs. Straw jumps ship, fearful of being crushed by angry mob. Hanni, at steps of bus, is only one for whom ticket is cut- much to dismay of mob which continues to tighten around her.
4:32pm- Triumph. So glad we got there before 3:00pm.

DO NOT BECOME COMPLACENT! BE VIGILANT, BE CAUTIOUS!

2008-05-07T20:20:00.002-05:00

I'll tell you one thing: Ethiopia is a huge country. During the past four weeks I think I've seen most of it. How is this possible, you may ask? Public transportation is always going to be the answer and it will never be pleasant, but it's worth it. I think. [Did you know that Ethiopia has the highest per capita rate of car fatalities in the world? 190 deaths per 10,000 vehicles. Newsweek teaches you all sorts of things you'd rather not know. This explains the ridiculous number of wrecks I've witnessed lately.]

Travels began by going down south to Oromia region for our two-week training. I learned many valuable lessons such as:

· Do not "violet" the rules (compliments of safety and security officer)

· Safety never takes a holiday (he really has some great one-liners.)

· Do not think to cross the river (unless you and friends find a hidden Huckleberry Finn raft and have always had secret dreams of traveling the Mississippi… then you must "violet" the rules and think to cross the river. Just beware of man with gun on other side.)

· They meant it when they said there are hippos in the river. Apparently that's why you're not supposed to cross it. Hippos are big and kind of intimidating when they aren't in a zoo.

· Always close the balcony door lest the monkeys get in and eat Nehemiah, Psalms, Acts, John, and a large portion of the concordance out of your Bible. They will, however, leave the Ayn Rand book right beside it untouched. That has to mean something, I'm just not sure what. Demon possession?

· When you and your roommate are fed up with sitting through redundant meetings, decide to skip, and get away with it- be aware that your "friends" will be jealous of your freedom. Do not leave room key lying around. You will find all the contents of your room, including bedding, stolen and the beds shoved against the door so that you cannot enter said room. You will then have to climb over your third floor balcony (safety was again taking a holiday) in order to find a note written in Amharic denoting the whereabouts of your belongings. This will, naturally, set off a week of pranking in which the honey in the shampoo bottles may make an appearance once again. People love that one.

Umm… so training was lame. But Sodere, the resort it was at, was awesome. It has natural hot springs and much swimming was had by all. Seeing everyone again was a lot of fun. Community is just great. A few of us had a girl's only weekend that involved guacamole and was really refreshing. Another good thing that came out of training is that I was elected as an advisory committee member for my zone. This means Peace Corps will pay for me to come into Addis every three months. Knowing that I can eat Mexican food and ice cream every three months might just be enough to keep me sane.

After training seven of us left the hot, dry south for a five day hike through the Simien Mountains in the north. One may assume that because it is dry season and you live close to the equator that it will not be wet and cold in the mountains. Do not think to accept this assumption. Always pack socks. The Indiana sweatshirt saved my life and now has a funky smell that may never go away. Sorry about that Patty. It was an incredible experience though and absolutely beautiful. We had a great little scout whom we affectionately refer to as 'Scouty.' We carried walking sticks. Scouty carried a gun. We stopped approx every 30 minutes for water and snacks. Scouty was fasting most of the week before Ethiopian Easter and thus was hiking 7 hours a day at an altitude of 4400 meters on an empty stomach. Scouty also had a working knowledge of the English language. His favorite phrases were "upupup,' 'downdowndown,' and 'no problem!' Interesting thing to note about the way Ethiopians hike: they don't believe in switchbacks. It's either straight up or straight down. I mean, why waste time meandering your way up the mountain? We suspect that Scouty may have been trying to kill us. About two hours into our hike the first day we realized that Scouty wasn't really taking us on a defined trail but rather through people's backyards. We think Scouty was using the opportunity to catch up with all his old buddies before the holidays. Scouty was also a pro at the 'hollerback conversation'. We'd be half a mile away from whoever he was talking to last and he'd still be yelling back at them. We believe that Scouty has the gift of communication. No problem!

This trip was the first time that we've done something fun just as friends. Not peace corps related… not a training… just fun. It was so necessary. I'm convinced that if you ever need to be reminded of the bigger picture, that things will work out, that it's ok not to have enough strength to go on alone… the Simien Mountains is the place to go. Plus there are Gelada Baboons and Walia Ibex. They're just cool.

So I made it back to the Finote and it's apparent that it's been awhile. It's been good to see everyone though. Spirits are high since the two months of fasting before Easter are over and everyone is eating meat again. It has been one non-stop holiday (Worker's Day, Patriot's Day, I-ate-too-much-injera-so-I'm-not-going-to-work Day) since last Sunday so there's not much work going on. I have, however, consumed more goat than I had ever hoped to in an entire lifetime. It's also started raining. A ton. With hail. I live under a tin roof. This will wake you up in the middle of the night. The compound I live on has turned into a swamp. When I walk to town I sink three feet into mud. I was excited about rainy season and getting rid of some of the dust… now I'm realizing how wet, cold, and muddy the next few months are going to be. It's really nice to watch everything turn green overnight however… you don't realize how dry and dead everything was until it's bright green and very alive!

Umm… If you guys could pray for my landlord, I'd really appreciate it - he's been sick for about a month and has been at the Addis Ababa hospital for about three weeks now. He's pretty miserable and hasn't been able to work for most of the month. With the rising price of food, it's been rough on the family. It's weird seeing global economics affecting real people. I don't know that I've ever been so aware of it. Also… Ato Asmamo, the leader of our PLWHA/ one of my favorite people in the Finote, is very sick and in the Bahir Dar hospital. On top of that, my nearest peace corps neighbor/good friend has decided to go back home and is heading out this week. And my house has become home to rats again. It seems that re-entering reality after a month of ignoring it can cause what some refer to as a downdowndown.

In conclusion, I checked my mailbox for the first time in a month today. Dang. You guys are awesome. Much love.

1/4

2008-04-01T16:34:00.003-05:00

Don't worry! Life continues on in the Finote! It's seemed extraordinarily busy lately, which is good I think. The biggest news to relate is that the Finote had visitors! My mom and Kary came to visit for springbreak and it was incredible. We were only in the Finote for a day, but it's still kind of a big deal. Apparently the town had big plans to throw a party but fortunately we snuck away at dawn before they could catch them. I think this was wise- as much as mom and kary loved the local food (ha), I don't know that they could have handled what was coming their way. When we weren't in the Finote we were doing all sorts of touristy things: big waterfalls, taking speedboats (ha) to islands with monasteries, touring castles that once housed the kings of Ethiopia but were then bombed by the Brits in fits of colonial rage. That was really unfortunate. I've never really done the tourist thing, so it was a nice change. Particularly nice was staying in hotels with showers. Showers with hot water. It was great to have mom and squeaky here, but hard to see them go. It's also been difficult to deal with the repercussions of allowing them to leave the Finote without experiencing 18,000 coffee ceremonies. I have been told on numerous occasions that I 'made mistake' in allowing that to occur. Whoops.

In other news, I recently became aware of the fact that next week will mark my sixth month living in Ethiopia. This has resulted in a time of reflection on lessons learned, accomplishments, failures, and setting goals for the future… some of which I will share:

Lessons learned:
^ Enunciation is key. For example- say your counterpart has gone to Mota to visit his family. When people ask where he is and you tell them "Mota," their responses of shock and sadness should tell you that something is not being conveyed properly. Don't just assume that everyone else is as bummed as you are that he will be absent for two weeks. As it turns out, 'Mota' sounds remarkably similar to 'murta' (he died) when you don't pronounce it correctly. The question now is- do I go back and explain my mistake to people or allow them to be overwhelmed with joy when Beza miraculously reappears next week?
^ Going six months without driving a car is hard. Real hard. Every time you get in one you have visions of hijacking it just to have that feeling of freedom, that feeling that you can go anywhere you so desire.
^ It really is best to properly wash fruits and vegetables. I say I've learned this lesson, but I haven't really. I'll get lazy again and not wash them right and then have the same unpleasant problems that hit at inconvenient times throughout the day. Such is life.

Accomplishments:
^ In the past 6 months I have read 20 books. Five were read during the first 10 weeks of training. The remaining 15 books have been read in the 14 weeks I've been in the Finote. I don't know that I've ever consistently averaged a book a week. I like it.
^ When people say things such as 'how do you find it?' 'are you voluntary?' 'I think you would like examine the content matter?' 'I go to the defecation of the toilet.' 'are you fine?' 'you are beauty everywhere I see. Would you like a boyfriend?' or 'that bag is excess birr (money)'- I can a) respond appropriately and b) do so without laughing.
^ I've made some pretty good friends. Definition: I can call them when I'm bored, hanging out feels more like fun than work, and we are able to converse on a broad range of topics.
^ I have successfully introduced April Fool's Day to the Finote. We decided that today was just a practice run and kept it light… sending people to the wrong office, setting up false meetings that no one knew who arranged, wild goose chases to the bus station… In 10 days when it's April first again, it has been agreed that there will be no holding back. Sweet fancy Moses someone needs to give me a real job.

Failures:
^ None of my accomplishments are related to HIV/AIDS education, which is what the taxpayers back home are paying me to be here for. This is negatively affecting my sense of purpose and occasionally causes me to question why the heck I am here.
^ I have yet to gain the courage to convey my dislike of coffee and still end up drinking an average of two cups a day. Today I drank four. I'm going to be up all night.

Goals:
^ To learn the language well enough to understand life stories. I have a lot to learn from the people I am surrounded by, but I have currently hit a wall in language comprehension. This is frustrating because I want to know more about people like Ato Asmamo, the leader of Finote's People Living With HIV/AIDS Association (PLWHA). The man is incredible. It's obvious that his concern for others is genuine and everyone loves him because of it. He is tireless in making sure that people get the care they need and is a huge advocate of increasing understanding about HIV/AIDS. I've managed to grasp that there was a point when he wasn't sure he was going to live and as a result he had to give his daughter, who is now 8 years old and lives in France, up for adoption. How did he get from there to where he is now- a healthy, well-educated, leader in his community? I think he would tell me if I asked, but I wouldn't understand. I need to get motivated about learning this language.
^ To make some pretty good friends who are girls. Language acquisition would go a long way in aiding this goal as well. Girls here are smart and know more English than they think they do, but they're too shy to speak it.

Umm… that's enough for now. So, most exciting upcoming event is I'm leaving for IST (In-Service Training) on Friday. Oh! Another accomplishment! I'm really good at acronyms now! PST, MST, PMTCT, ET, OVC, IGA, COS, HIV, AIDS, HAPCO, VCT, ART, HBC, PEPFAR, ROSCA, M&E, CC… I could go on… that's sad. Sorry. I've had a lot of coffee today. Anyway… IST! Everyone is getting together at a resort (this term should be used loosely) for two weeks! They say there is a swimming pool. Most of the day will be full of meetings that may or not bear some relevance to daily life, but at least it will be in the company of cool people most of whom I haven't seen in three months. There is talk of the Bible study meeting up again, which should be awesome!

Been missing you all lately. Much love.

Cheese!

2008-03-04T10:03:00.002-06:00

You know those days when you see really old men wearing hot pink pants and you think, "oh… he's color-blind. That's sad" and then he asks you if you like his pink pants and you realize that he was fully aware of the decision he was making when he woke up that morning? Those days happen a lot here. I like them. They make me happy.

Additionally, you know that saying that every village has their naked guy? I'm finding it to be true. I've been hesitant to bring up naked guy in order to avoid causing anyone (read: parents) undue concern. However, having encountered him on numerous occasions these past two months in the Finote, I've ascertained that he is harmless. Our village naked guy's favorite pastime is hopping on public transportation at one edge of town and riding it to the other edge (maybe a mile? Probably less...). He then walks back, hops another bus, and repeats. What's interesting about this, other than him violating all public decency laws, is that it's obvious that he has no money. He has no pockets. The only thing he carries is a large stick. So these people are just letting him on the buses? That seems odd. But on any given Saturday, you know where naked guy can be found… just don't run into him as he is making his trek back across town. It's awkward.

Speaking of transportation… I think before this time in my life it would have been difficult to identify a form of transport that I did not love. I love to travel. Planes, trains, automobiles, undergrounds, canoes, paddleboats… love them all. I have now identified a means of travel that makes me want to stay at home for the rest of my life: any type of Ethiopian public transportation. It's horrendous. I have to mentally prepare for days before going even an hour away. Five minutes into it I wish I had never left home. Three hours and twenty minutes into a trip that should've taken two hours (30 minutes by car… two hours by ethio bus…), I was actually eyeing my bench mate's rifle and wondering if I would get there any faster if I shot myself in the foot. I envisioned getting whisked away in an ambulance with flashing lights. I've never experienced this form of transportation, but it sounded nice. Then I realized I've never seen an ambulance here so I'd probably have to stay on the bus in additional pain. Then I started wondering why dude had a rifle on the bus and if it had a safety. Then my knee caught on a protruding metal bar and ripped a hole in my pants.

There are few things that can convince me to make the 8 hour 49 minute and 42 second bus ride into Addis Ababa (don't worry. I timed it)… but if Andy Sisk is in town I will go. And he was, so I went. It was incredible. Great people really. They let me tag along to old Orthodox churches on hills that overlook the city, took me shopping, and introduced me to a Mexican restaurant. Mexican food in Ethiopia… who knew? Cheese also brought a map of Birmingham that Sarah Wolf (who I stayed with and is amazing) poured over for quite some time, locating the homes of just about everyone we've ever known. It's difficult to explain the impact of this past week on my life. Cheese is just great and it was just so refreshing to have a bit of the family here. Just to warn you… Cheese has taken up handholding and wearing man-skirts. Ethiopia does that to some people I guess.

On the way home I had one of the most disturbing experiences of my life. We came around the corner and came upon an absolute slaughter of donkeys. It was so strange. No exaggeration- at least 20 dead donkeys and some very large birds scattered all over the road. They had been there a while but showed no indication of what might have killed them. I could go into greater detail, but it was gross. A few of us were in the PC car and when asked the driver suggested that perhaps it was a "seasonal disease." He was not sure though as "this was his first time." Yeah. Ours too. What kind of seasonal disease drops donkeys and birds dead at the exact same time in the middle of the road, I ask you? I blame the bunny doctors. I've never been a fan of them.

We will now commence a series of posts in which I introduce you to people in town that I like. We begin with my landlord and family. Ato (Mr.) Genanow is 41 years of age and is a veterinary assistant. Sometimes he comes home rather bloody. I've learned not to ask. His English is very good, so he can tell you all about the breeched baby cow that he had to remove from an uncomfortable mom cow. The stories don't usually have good endings. He tells me that he respects me and that I am as a daughter to him… thus if I am not home by 8pm, he can be found wandering the streets with a flashlight searching for me. I'm very safe. Asenaf is his wife and she is awesome. She has an incredible sense of humor and is not easily fazed. They have a really good relationship and treat each other like equals which is a big deal in a society where many wives are still treated like servants. Sophonias (Sophie) is nine. He stands on the main road in the evening and acts like he's not waiting for me to come home from work… but he is. We both arm ourselves with rubber bands and race home trying to snap each other. The people we pass like to make an "errrah?" noise in the back of their throats at us. It translates as: "Why is that boy not respecting the ferenge?" or "What is the crazy ferenge doing now?" Rebkah is six and is constantly dirty. You've never seen a dirtier kid. She also likes to walk around without anything but a t-shirt on. She knows how to turn on the tears in order to get her way, which I suppose is a valuable skill if you have an older brother. She cries a lot. We're really good friends because I team up with her against Sophie. The rubber band wars get intense.

Umm… in other news, work is good. I'm getting to go out into the rural areas a bit more. I love it. I think I might just move out. Except for the lack of water, electricity, and food that I know how to cook. We are trying to start doing more testing for HIV out there but have run into some pretty tough obstacles… mainly lack of education and willingness for farmers to get tested for a disease that they know nothing about. You'd think this could be easily resolved but… who knows? I'm discovering that I'm pretty impatient. If you could pray that I would resist the temptation to give into frustration at the slowness of everything here, the lack of structure, and feeling like I'm wasting time, I'd appreciate it.

Much love.

Another day, another holiday

2008-02-05T13:08:00.000-06:00

These Ethiopians have more holidays than you can fathom; it's ridiculous. So January 27th's holiday was St. Yeorgis (St. George). The missionaries in Christie's town invited us to celebrate with them out in a rural village where they have horse races. I'm thinking "ohh! A horse race! Bleachers to sit on, railings to keep the horses away from crowds, women with big hats, and ice cream (I don't know if they have ice cream at horse races, but I like to think about ice cream). What fun!" I'm a moron.

So the way St. Yeorgis works is you drive until there is no more road and then you drive a little bit further. When you can't drive anymore you get out and walk thirty minutes through the rural countryside. Keep in mind we're up in the mountains now, so it's beautiful. Eventually the trail dumps you into a huge open field by a church and people are pouring in from all directions. Where they come from, you have no idea. The missionary's friends invited us in for lunch and lets just say that huts in rural Ethiopia are a lot different than living in a small city. No more complaining about living in the boonies for me...dang. So then we head out to the horse races…

It's just absurd. The priests come out again with their umbrellas, horns, clapping, and singing. It was explained that the thing they're carrying is an ark (you know they say the real Ark of the Covenant is in Ethiopia somewhere…). So the ark is set out to watch the races I guess. Then everyone lines up on two sides of the field. All the horses are decked out in their Lion of Judah finery and they assemble at one end. They then come tearing down the field two at a time with their riders screaming as if death is upon them. One rider has a shield and the other rider has two "spears." They call them spears but there is no tip on them… so really they're just two big sticks. Call them what you will, the objective is for one rider to throw the spears and see how many times he can get them to bounce off the shield. You are particularly talented if you can get the spear to bounce off the shield and catch it again. In order for this to happen, the horses have to be dangerously close together. The horses go up and down the field countless times… no one is really keeping score, so no one wins. You just do it until people get bored. Or someone dies.

You can see, the opportunity for things to go wrong is great. For example: the crowd lining the field can inch closer and closer together giving the horses less and less space. Spears can go flying into the crowd. Small children can run out into the field, overwhelmed by the excitement of it all, and have near scrapes with death. Tired horses can decide they've had enough and run into the crowd. Spears can go between the horses' legs and trip them. Someone can drop their whip, hop down to get it, and get run over by the next set of riders. It was one of those "where-the-heck-am-i?-this-is-awesome!" days.

There's no electricity out there, but I noticed that the hut we visited had a light bulb connected to a switch. They showed me how it worked… rigged to a battery. Granted, it only gave off maybe 4 watts of light but for the first time in my life I thought, "That's cool. I could be an electrical engineer someday." I'm also developing an interest in health care, counseling, economics, seminary, agricultural science, and would like to be a history buff someday. Rather than these two years providing a narrowing of direction, I'm starting to realize I could come out of here more confused than ever. So that's nice.

For our educational tidbit this week, we're going to discuss a rather sensitive topic in broad terms: regulation. I've long been of the opinion that regulation stunts effectiveness, efficiency, and creativity but seeing it in action is mind-boggling. When education is regulated and people are forced to study subjects they have no interest in based on test scores not only are they unmotivated, but you're really hindering your economy. They aren't going to be enthusiastic in whatever field they're forced into and won't work to their full capacity. And when public services are regulated, such as cell phone network, it's just not going to work. It's going to be more expensive than necessary, service won't be available during peak hours (which includes working hours, evenings, and weekends… so all day really), and you won't be able to use international text messaging like the rest of the world. Not that this is frustrating or anything. Additionally, apparently a new thing they're doing is banking over cell phones. I don't know enough about how it works, but it seems like an interesting approach to development… however it won't do much good if you don't have a cell network that works. And if your country doesn't allow private banks and doesn't adequately support the banks that they operate… it could complicate things. Just something to think about next time you're governing your own country.

So the highlight of my day has become going to work. I still don't accomplish much, but I'm learning a ton and the people are hilarious. This week I learned that there are three things that a girl must be able to do in order to be a good wife: 1) make injera. 2) make duro (chicken) wat. 3) Make tella- the local equivalent of moonshine. It is the color of dirt and has stuff floating in it. I've only sampled on occasions when it got too awkward to continually refuse and it is worse than you think it could be in your wildest imagination. I told the guys that I've tried to make injera and failed, refuse to pluck a chicken and thus will never be able to make duro wat, and that tella makes me nauseous… so the office joke has become that I'm unsuitable for marriage. Since going to the panel on gender equality, I've become a big advocate - so I asked what a guy has to do to become a good husband. Apparently they only have one requirement: to plow a field with a team of ox. I asked these guys, who all come from bigger cities, if they've ever done that… and they hadn't. I felt vindicated. So that's what I do at work...distract people. Awesome. I've also learned 91 out of 231 characters of the alphabet. When I demonstrated my increasing knowledge today they said, "Oh, you can read like a first grader."

With April coming ever closer and our Peace Corps imposed travel ban lifting, we're all trying to make our sites sound appealing in order to attract visits from other volunteers. People are beginning to advertise hot showers, camels, lakes, hiking, shops that sell ferenge products (cereal!), and the like. I'll be honest, it's been hard to promote the Finote… umm… "When it rains we have really consistent running water? Sometimes the electricity only goes out for a half hour at night instead of 3 hours? The Extreme Hotel has the best shiro wat this side of the Blue Nile Gorge?" But last week I think I found it-the Finote's selling point: monkeys. That's right. We have monkeys. Haile asked if I had been out to the jungle (it's not a jungle, but that's ok) to see the monkeys. I asked him why it had taken a month to decide this was something he should share. It's awesome. And it's maybe a 10-minute walk from my house.

I've also started going to the Protestant church in town. It's taken me awhile mostly because going to a new church by yourself is scary. But it wasn't too bad. They only had me introduce myself and then asked me to preach twice. We eventually agreed that it would be best for me to wait to start my public ministry until I learned a bit more of the language, so that's a relief. It was so great to worship with believers though; my heart needed that. Also, there are women at church and some of them appear to be around my age. That was an exciting discovery.

This is too long. I'm done. Miss you all! Much love!

Oprah for President!

2008-01-23T18:23:00.000-06:00

My office friend Haile, who is well educated and highly intelligent, gave me a good laugh the other day when he told me that he would vote for Oprah if he were American… then I realized he was serious. He told me he read in a magazine that she was running. I actually almost believed him (how would I know?) until he proceeded to tell me some wild conspiracy stories that had also been presented to him as truth... by another magazine. When I asked where they came from he looked at me like I was dumb and said, "America." I'm not kidding-journalists should be required to take ethics courses. The things they get people to believe are absurd. Incidentally, for you Northerners, Haile's office attire of choice is a Weis Grocers polo.

Life in the Finote carries on! Work is slow, but there is hope that it will become more defined soon. My supervisor and I have an appointment to discuss my short-term work plan this week. Even though we are together everyday from, pues, 8:30am till 5:30pm it is still necessary to schedule an appointment. I did participate in a conference on gender equality, a panel discussion at the high school, and English Friday at the prep school. I'm also supposed to start meeting with girls at the prep school during breaks a few days a week. Teachers are concerned that the girls don't actively participate in classroom discussion and want me to help them gain confidence. The teachers at the schools are typically males between the ages of 23 and 27. By typically, I mean that I've met one female teacher in all of Finote Selam and at least 75 male teachers. If I were an adolescent girl, I wouldn't participate either. I want to tell them that the girls need role models. If they want them to have confidence, give them some girl teachers and an example to follow… not sure how that would be received though.

Christie and I have decided to try and get together every other weekend… that's about as long as I can go until the desire to speak English becomes an actual need. So last weekend it was her turn to come here. The Finote went crazy. Two ferenge (foreign) girls with the same name? Whoa. We set out on a hike to my favorite tree in hopes of enjoying another picnic in the out-of-doors. Nope. In a mere matter of seconds we were surrounded. We decided to time the kids, seeing how long it would take for them to get bored of us just sitting there. Turns out we were timing ourselves. We only lasted 4 minutes and 55 seconds until we couldn't handle answering the same questions repeatedly and had exhausted our Amharic vocabulary. We're weak. Turned out well though- we just kept walking and found a lovely river to eat our gummi bears, bananas, and peanut butter by. Later that day we made the most incredible meal and had our inaugural evening of Bible study and quesadillas. You cannot fathom quesadillas this good. With Spanish rice and canned corn? A meal with color! And quality English conversation!

This weekend I headed to Debra Markos because I discovered that the only ingredient I was lacking for banana pancakes (just like banana bread if you don't look at them) is flour, which they don't have in the Finote. There are two peace corps volunteers placed in Debra Markos and while I'm not saying that other people are living more civilized than I am… other people are living more civilized than I am. My first clue that I had been out in the boonies for too long was when I stared at the flushing apparatus on KB's toilet and said, "so… wait… you go to the bathroom inside? And you pull that and the stuff goes somewhere?" I got a "wow Straw" in response. Oops. But once again, going to a bigger town has made me really thankful for the Finote. I like the smallness and that literally everyone knows my name now… ok, sometimes that still freaks me out a bit…

Sunday was another holiday in Ethiopia- Timkat, or Epiphany. It was fun being in Debra Markos to celebrate. We went with KB's landlord to the Orthodox Church for the festivities. Think what it must have been like when the Israelites surrounded Jericho then add traditional Ethiopian garb and ornately dressed priests carrying massive umbrellas and crosses. This is Timkat. Many Orthodox churches here are circular, so people were running/dancing around the church, blowing horns, beating drums, clapping, and doing that guttural Africa yell that is impossible for non-Africans to imitate. I kept waiting for the walls to fall, but they never did. We headed out when too much attention became directed on getting the ferenge to participate in the cultural dancing. It's just embarrassing. But we did continue celebrating on our own by making chocolate pudding (compliments of the Luetchfords… brilliant people really) topped with mashed up Oreos. What are holidays without desserts?

I'm again noticing a fixation on food in these blogs which is really only interesting if you're the person eating so I'm going to endeavor to diversify and include some educational tidbits as well. This week's topic is goiters. I don't think I knew what a goiter really was until coming to Ethiopia… I certainly had never seen one. Did you know it's caused by lack of iodine? It makes the thyroid swell to massive proportions, results in mental impairment, and can cause birth defects. Approximately 655 million people in the world have goiters. I read some crazy statistic on how many of those people are in Ethiopia… but I can't find it anymore and internet has been out in the Finote. You should look it up. Basically every other person you pass on the street here has a goiter. And the only thing you have to do to prevent it is consume like a dash of iodized salt at some point in your life. Ok, I'm making stuff up now but it's interesting. Take advantage of wikipedia. I would if I were you. Goiters. Crazy.

In conclusion, the 'tenish zenab' (small rain) season has come to Ethiopia, making an umbrella a necessary purchase that I have been reluctant to give in to until now. You see, Ethiopians are part of a small sect of people who believe in carrying umbrellas regardless of the weather. Not only am I convinced that this is dangerous (thousands of umbrella wielding people on market day? Someone is going to lose an eyeball), but I'm pretty sure that at some point in my life I've mocked people who carry umbrellas on sunny days. I will not do it. The easiest way to explain this resolve has been to state that I don't currently own an umbrella… however I was caught out in the tenish zenab, which is not so tenish. Thunder, lightening, and torrential downpours are an every afternoon occurrence, usually perfectly timed to the moment I walk out the office door on my way home. I'm trying to look at the positives and consider it an opportunity to rinse some of the grease out of my washed-twice-weekly hair. Right.

Don't forget to be thankful for food that crunches, consistent internet, and iodized salt!

Much love!

Christmas / New Year's Program? Is possible.

2008-01-01T19:39:00.000-06:00

Merry Christmas and Happy 2008 everyone! Or, if you're in Ethiopia, Merry December 15 and Happy 2000! Sure, having your own calendar is cool and unique but it's gotta be weird living seven years and 10 days behind the rest of the world. I guess it'll be nice to have two Christmases…Ethiopia's is January 7 th. And it's been fun celebrating the Millennium again. The new year here began September 11th and the party hasn't stopped yet. "Yeah, yeah, yeah … Millennium" (actual lyrics of a popular song as well as a popular phrase for children to yell at passing foreigners).

As it turns out, Ethiopia is nothing without its programs. There are two categories of programs: 'is possible' and 'is not possible.' Christmas program in Bahir Dar complete with the largest lake in Ethiopia, nature trail, hippos, hot running water, nine other peace corps volunteers, and really old Canadian bird watchers who tell you more than you could possibly want to know about endemic birds? Is possible. Fixing my decaying latrine program? Is not possible.

Those in the near vicinity of Bahir Dar decided to gather and celebrate the holidays… and do some much needed shopping. The program started for me when I stopped by to visit Christie, who lives an hour away… if you get on the right bus. Anyway, her site is in the mountains and we had a full day of hiking in the rural areas. We packed a lunch of peanut butter, bread, raisins, wheat thins, and squirt cheese and enjoyed it on a hillside overlooking running streams and farmland. It felt really right to be in Ethiopia. Her site also includes American missionaries whose program is Forestry, Fruit, and Foraging for Farming Families. The important f-word to note is 'Fruit.' They're introducing different fruits to the area for farmers to grow including apples, strawberries, blueberries, passion fruit (mwuah), nectarines, pears, peaches, and GRAPES. Not much is in season right now, but we did get to eat some really ripe nectarines and some tiny strawberries. It's only an hour away. There is no way to express the emotions I feel with written words.

Bahir Dar was big and overwhelming and civilized and has a lake with water and restaurants with pizza and ice cream and shaded parks with benches and TVs with English Premier League soccer (I root for Arsenal and Fabregast is my favorite player. Who knew?) and is simply delightful for a weekend. We cooked an American Christmas dinner complete with everything anyone ever received in a Christmas package including: Pringles, Christmas tree Little Debbies, canned cranberry sauce, stovetop stuffing, cheddar mashed potatoes, premium canned ham fried in chicken fat, fried chicken, kraft mac & cheese, no-bake cookies, hummus and bread, coke, PURed water, and popcorn. When I say fried chicken, I obviously mean that we bought two chickens from the market, Lavis (previously known as Levi…then the Ethiopians got ahold of him) sawed their heads off while they were still tied together by the feet, then Beth, Anna, and Christie plucked, gutted, and fried them. The second chicken saw what was coming, was not pleased to be part of the program, attempted to escape, dragged the decapitated chicken that was tied to it, and coated Lavis with blood. I took no part in this program. I was, however, in charge of the premium canned ham program, which was a surprising success…thank you dad. We all felt adequately disgusted with ourselves after eating all this, but in the words of C. Smith, "forget it. I have no regrets. I'd do it all over again if I could."

You may be interested to know that since returning home today I have witnessed a wild stampede of approx. 50 horses down the main street of the Finote and not only did a chicken walk into my house, but so did a goat. I find these occurrences curious because until today I had not seen a single horse in the Finote and no one on my compound owns a chicken. Or a goat. It's really nice to be back though, which was a good feeling to discover. It's good to be among people who know me, to be called temermeroo again, to see familiar faces, to talk to my shoe-shining friends who used to be rude until I told them that nice boys didn't talk like that. We're pretty tight now.

So, before the Christmas program, I had been in the Finote for two weeks on my own and it's been really good! We hit the ground running at work: doing more HIV testing at schools, distributing uniforms and school supplies to orphans and vulnerable children (OVCs), and attempting to hire a secretary for our office. We're also starting two income-generating projects for older OVCs who didn't pass the test to go on to more schooling. We're helping them open a hair saloon and Laundromat, jobs that will hopefully give them skills to sustain them in the future. When I say "we," I mean these projects have been in the works since before I've been here and I'm just offering positive reinforcement. There is another group of OVCs that they want me to come up with a project for on my own… I'm supposed to identify a gap in the Finote Selam market and find a way to fill it. Right. Because gaps in markets are easily identifiable in the first two weeks of living in a town. I'm still trying to find the market.

You may have heard that I've been having a bit of a rat issue. For those who haven't heard- I have a bit of a rat issue. He kept coming in my bedroom, though I couldn't figure out why. There's no food in there. After the first week I kinda got used to him, didn't mind so much, was able to sleep through his scurrying, and even considered giving him a name. Then I discovered what he was after. I had a pile of laundry on the floor (not because I'm being Schloppy, but for lack of a better place at the current moment) and apparently I had spilt something on one of my skirts. Must have been tasty, because the stupid rat chewed a hole through my red skirt. This decreases my outfit variety options by at least 1/7 th. I had been accommodating and understanding; now I am angry and my vengeance shall know no bounds. I bought some rat traps, (which I affectionately refer to as Buford 1 and 2 after the illustrious Buford the Rat Trap Racer) when I went to the big city. This aggression shall not stand any longer.

In other news, people here have begun questioning if it is safe for me to live on my own. My landlord's wife, who speaks maybe 3 words of English, even had the audacity to ask if I had ever taken a home economics class. The questions began in earnest after the great Vegetable Oil Spill of 2007 (or 2000 depending on which calendar you use). It's embarrassing and I don't like to talk about it, but the result was my left knee swelling to the size of a softball and developing a bruise that still has the locals talking. I will not be defeated though! I will learn how to cook and I will not get a maid! So ha! Really, I'm kinda having fun. It's like camping and I like camping. Incidentally, the vegetable oil was imported from Malaysia and is a safety hazard. If any of you (Candis) are considering moving to Malaysia for two years… I would think twice. Or avoid the vegetable oil.

Lately God has really been putting 2 Timothy 1:7 on my mind- "for God gave us a Spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control." It's been very easy for me to get in the habit, already, of staying in the safe and easy places. I go to work, home, post office, and internet. I have friends in these places and by associating only with them, I avoid the inevitable questions and stares from strangers. I avoid having to be loving to people I don't know. I avoid the exhaustion of trying to come up with things to say to these people. God has been revealing the error of this and also reminding me of His ability to supply the energy and love that I don't have. So I've been going for runs in the morning to familiarize myself with the town, going for hikes after work, and trying out new cafes to read at instead of sitting in my house. God has really blessed these times and I've met a lot of people. I'm praying these develop into friendships. I told one guy that I needed some friends that were girls and he volunteered his wife. It was really funny, but he was serious. She has invited me over for a cooking lesson and to become her friend. I'm pretty excited.

Ok, this is ridiculously long but I'm going to justify it because it's New Years Eve and I am determined to entertain myself until midnight. Not really sure what happens then, but it'll be a good program. Is possible.

Much love and Happy New Year!

PCV Induction Press Release

2007-12-16T14:28:00.000-06:00

Post from Mom: In the group photo, Kristen is in the second row from bottom, 3rd in from the left. Click on the picture for larger view.

http://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.media.press.view&news_id=1284

"The air-conditioning… how do you find it?"

2007-12-16T14:17:00.000-06:00

I have yet to figure out a good way to answer this question without laughing. What you are tempted to say is: "I don't find it. Have you ever seen an air conditioner here? No. Didn't think so. I believe what you mean to ask is 'How do you like the weather?' Why don't we practice saying that?" If you reply in this manner however, you will only receive blank stares. It's best just to say, "the air-conditioning… it is beautiful." Just keep that in mind for when you come to visit… as you all should.

So much has happened in the last few days… it's really just incredible… that I feel a timeline is the most effective means of communication.

Sunday, Dec 9th: We celebrated my host sister's 10th birthday. Mind you, her birthday is not until sometime in January. She just wanted to celebrate with the white people. Imagine your tenth birthday party. Now throw in 5 foreigners twice your age. Now imagine them making up a birthday song in your mother tongue that sounds absolutely ridiculous and does not make much sense. Then, invite the town professional photographer who has a camera from the 1970s and doesn't know how to use it to document the occasion. Be sure to get both indoor and outdoor shots and put the foreigners in poses that make them laugh so hard that they pee their pants. Literally. And after the guests leave, be sure to have your own personal foreigner participate in family dance time. Even if she can't dance, it'll be good for a laugh.

Tuesday, Dec 11th: final language test! The main thing we were supposed to know were the three goals of peace corps. I decided I will never use that in real conversation and thus made up my own goals. All three of them were 'to be a good HIV/AIDS teacher'. I can communicate this very well. Forget promoting peace and sharing cultures. Who needs it? Surprisingly. I still passed. Incidentally, the day before the test they decided to tell us that the language teachers aren't accredited yet… so we can take the test again in two years and get some paper that makes us official Amharic speakers. This made staying up until 2:00am watching 5 episodes of the West Wing more appealing than studying. That's right… one of the girls brought every single episode of West Wing.

Thursday, Dec. 13th: Swearing in! Incredible day. Everyone should live at a US Embassy, I've decided. They're just so neat and clean and have toilets that flush with a real handle and people who do cool things work there. And they have turkey sandwiches. And these little egg roll type things. And- you'll never believe this- I ran into the country director of Food for the Hungry! I had met him when I interned with FH two summers ago and he remembered me! And he invited me to meet up with a team that's coming over from the States in March, which will be led by one of my FH friends! And I'm just really excited. And 10 Things I Hate About You was on tv when we got back to the hotel… it just doesn't get much better.

Friday, Dec. 14th: When your day begins with CNN, you know it's going to be a good one. Not only did I find potholders and Raid to take care of my ant problem, but we found Kaldi's Coffee! I promise- it's almost like being in Starbucks. It even smells like it. And they have Chai Tea! It's pretty terrible, but just the fact that they're trying is amazing.

Saturday, Dec. 15th: we decided at 8:19am that this day needed proper documentation. So here's what we came up with:

5:00am: wake up. Immediately turn on CNN for one last viewing.
5:30am: breakfast false alarm #1
5:45am: breakfast false alarm #2
6:00am: breakfast, complete with firfir (if you don't know, you don't want to know). Incidentally, this is the time we were told the buses would be leaving.
6:30am-7:42am: watch luggage get loaded.
7:42am: buses actually left the hotel.
7:53am: 1st stop- man boards bus to say "hey guys! Safe journey." He then exits. We decide that, upon returning to the states, we will do this to every foreign tour bus we see, provided we know how to say, "hey guys!" in their native tongue.
8:05am: realize we're going the wrong way. No worries. We'll just perform an 8-point turn in the middle of the road and block traffic in both directions for approximately 5 minutes.
8:15am- 2nd stop- police
8:19am- sideswiped a donkey. No lie. We think he's ok.
8:45am- blaring music incident. Fortunately, we were not on public transportation this time, so we were able to get the situation sorted out.
9:34am- 3rd stop. Police man boards bus. Bus driver almost gets a ticket for not wearing a seat belt, but manages to talk (bribe?) the cop out of it. I can respect that…
9:40am- 4th stop. We are not sure why this program took place.
10:27am- 5th stop-police.
10:58am- 6th stop- police.
11:17am- 7th stop- police.
11:28am- begin descent into the Gorge.
11:49am- violent bump results in C. Smith's bloody nose.
12:23pm- cross the Blue Nile and begin ascent.
1:08pm- 8th stop at a stop sign- the first of it's kind that I have seen here… even in Addis there are no stop signs. This one is just hanging out in the middle of the Gorge highway. There does not seem to be a reason for this program either.
1:09pm- violent jolt #2. I was standing. Death seemed imminent.
1:30pm- lunch stop. Drop off 3 people at their site, not to be seen again until in-service training in April. Weird.
2:31pm- back on the road.
2:45pm- 9th stop- police.
3:20pm- near sheep slaying. Sheep escaped with slight glaze.
3:26pm- 10th stop- pick up 2 police officers and machine gun.
3:36pm- police officers and machine gun disembark without incident.
4:30pm- drop off two more. And then there were 11.
5:12pm- near baby cow slaying. This cow should not still be alive.
6:08pm- arrive in Finote Selam! Home sweet home!

So, tonight is my second first night in my own house! My landlord and his family are great… they had me in for dinner and bunna. His wife, whose name I really need to learn but feel awkward about asking at this point, and I have a date to go buy house wares at the market on Tuesday!

Hope that everyone is having Happy Holidays and enjoying time with friends and family ! Miss you all and hope to talk to you soon! Much love!

The Stuff Legends are made of…?

2007-12-03T10:42:00.000-06:00

Lessons Learned during site visit:

1. When it's 5:00 am, still pitch black outside, and your supervisor disappears into the surging throng of people at the Addis Ababa bus station who are pushing, screaming, and hollering in an attempt to find their bus, leaving you lost, completely alone, and vulnerable with half of your worldly belongings strapped to your back- the best way to keep from panicking is to remind yourself that you're not in mortal danger, you're in Ethiopia, and this might be funny… someday. Not yet.

2. When rescue comes in the form of tall, dark, and handsome peace corps driver, be grateful. Even if he is accompanied by the slightly out-of-touch training director who reassures you by saying, "this is the stuff legends are made of." Really? Can you please give a single example of a legend that resulted from bus station chaos?

2a. When you're waiting for an hour for your supervisor to reappear and your worldly possessions get too heavy, don't set them down behind a bus. The bus may decide to back up, resulting in a near, true Catan-strophe (Catan was in the backpack… could have been so much worse than it was).

3. When looking at the route to site, you may be tempted to get excited about driving through the Blue Nile Gorge. Resist. The Blue Nile Gorge is strikingly similar to the Grand Canyon, except green and grassy. There is a reason there isn't a highway running through the Grand Canyon. It would be miserable. There is, however, a highway through the Gorge. It is frequented by overcrowded buses full of people who are convinced that opening the windows to allow fresh air in is the source of all disease. Bodies crammed together combined with winding roads with steep drop-offs combined with blazing sun combined with no ventilation combined with no opportunity to relieve yourself for 8 hours combined with a bumpy dirt road…. Delightful.

3a. If you must ride Ethiopian public transportation, which should be avoided at all costs, don't sit directly underneath the stereo speaker. Unless you like blaring Ethiopian youth group music. Then, by all means… knock yourself out.

4. Upon arriving at site, before agreeing to speak in front of "a few classes" about the importance of being tested for HIV, a few things you might consider: A) You hate talking in front of people. It makes you nervous. B) A class consists of 2,000+ students. C) If you tell approx. 6,000 students to 'temermeroo' (test yourself), they will then know you as 'temermeroo' and all 6,000 of them will yell it at you every single time they pass you on the street. Think carefully before you decide what name you want to go by for the next two years.

5. If you enter your house for the first time and see the only electrical outlet dangling from a wire from the ceiling and think "that could be a safety hazard…" do yourself a favor and keep that in mind. Don't just grab the socket. You'll touch the wrong wire, giving yourself an electrical shock akin to the one you received in the 4th grade when you poured water on an electric fence while holding a metal pan. You don't forget those shocks.

6. Once ascertaining that the bananas are the reason you must run to the latrine every half hour with the worst intestinal problems you've experienced thus far, don't keep eating them. It's not worth it- even if you bought a kilo of them and don't want to waste them. Even if you're craving fruit… learn your lessons the first 3 times. The 4th will strike in the middle of the night and it won't be pretty.

6a. Always keep a roll of toilet paper with you. Always.

7. After spending a week speaking only broken English with a few Amharic phrases thrown in, you may start to think to yourself in this way. For example: "Now. What you do? I am… how do you say… tired? Pajamas. Where? Have not seen in bizuu kenoch (many days). Sleep just in clothes? Ishee (ok)." Don't freak out. I think this might be normal. It helps to rejoin an English speaking community. If this isn't an option, perhaps reading a book would help.

So site visit went well…. Interesting, but good. I'm working in an office that is part of the city administration complex. Not only is the HIV Prevention Office there, but also the Women's Affairs Office, the Youth and Sport Office, and the Microfinance Office. I should be able to find something to keep me busy. I have a quaint-ish two-bedroom house on a compound with my landlord, his wife, and two kids. The city is green, I saw rain for the first time, and there are lots of trees. It was awesome to see more of Ethiopia - it's beautiful. The gorge really is incredible… though I would recommend standing on the rim rather than descending into it.

Things to pray for: that these last 10 days (weird) in Wolisso would be full of good fellowship and community. That we would be protected from attacks of doubt, home/friend-sickness, and loneliness… That the Holy Spirit would prepare and strengthen us for the changes that are coming.

Thanks for the prayers and much love! Miss you guys…

New Address

2007-11-26T13:45:00.000-06:00

Kristen has visited her assigned town and opened a new PO Box - see new address at right. She'll be moving there in mid-Dec and mail takes about 3 weeks to get to her. Best not to mail to previous mail box, as she'll be gone by the time mail reaches it.

quote: "Here in Finote Selam! things are going good... getting introduced to the whole town, it seems. Just bought a bed and a dresser for about 60 bucks a piece... 1200birr. not too bad."

Listen salmonella head…

2007-11-21T10:46:00.000-06:00

Hello. After an excruciating day of intrigue, mystery, and a game of "the site is right!" we have finally been given site announcements! For the next two years, I'll be located in Finote Selam. I wouldn't bother looking for it on a map if I were you… the best explanation I've gotten is, "you know, it is on the main road from Addis to Bahir Dar. Past Debre Markos. Chigur yellum. No problem."
(from Mom: www.fallingrain.com/world/ET/6/Finote_Selam.html shows a topographic illustration)

I shall now commence to list the reasons why this is an incredible site:
- it is nestled in the lovely Choke Mountains
- they say there are waterfalls
- to get there, you must pass through the Blue Nile Gorge. That just sounds exciting.
- On my site description it says the climate is cool. In Ethiopian, this means 75-80 degrees. Lovely. Other site descriptions say "hot." People going to those sites are scared.
- Population is estimated at 40-45,000. Not too big, not too small.
- Guaranteed cell phone reception
- The town has had a peace corps volunteer before and he/she was "very happy and popular with the community."
- Only 5.5 hours from Addis. Some sites are 18 hours away.
- Cool job description: working with HAPCO (Ethiopian HIV/AIDS government organization) to address needs of orphan and vulnerable children, HIV/AIDS education training, training on how to keep records and being accountable with resources…
- I have housing secured. There is electricity and running water on the compound.
- And, most importantly, the sites directly north and south (hour or so in either direction) of me contain 3 girls who I've gotten close to. More good friends are in Bahir Dar, which isn't too far. In other words, I have a great cluster.

Reasons why this site makes me nervous:
- and I quote from the site form, "I think a PCV could really do well in this town, but the English of the staff is virtually non-existent. A PCV who displays strong language skills would be best for this location." This is not me. Not at all. You may think I'm just being humble, but I'm not. This language is hard as crap.
- They need someone who can help with accounting and computer skills. My math skills, or lack their-of, are well known. I fear they are going to be disappointed.
- When I go to Finote Selam on Saturday I must pay rent, open a bank account, set up a PO Box, buy a bed, set up a town hall meeting to introduce myself (what the heck? I don't even know how to say 'town hall meeting'), get introduced to trustworthy people (hi. What's your name? Are you trustworthy? Pleasure to meet you), and buy a bike. I've never done/ don't know how to do these things in America. How am I supposed to do them here?
- Nearest PCV will be at least an hour away. Could get lonely.
- I'm tired. I feel like I've already done it, you know? I've moved to the foreign country, I've adapted to the culture, I've gotten comfortable in a new town, I've made friends. Now they want me to start all over? This time alone? It seems like a bit much. I realize that this is me attempting to act on my own strength and that I'm not trusting that God's strength is sufficient… I'm learning a lot. But I'm tired.

All in all, I'm really excited. It'll be good to get to work. Nice to have a quasi-permanent living situation. My host mother, on the other hand, is inconsolable. She is distressed at the thought of me leaving and is handling her grief by buying me things: food to take, presents for my 'America mom,' a teapot… This is just making me feel guilty that she is spending money on me. I tried to comfort her by showing her the cookbook that peace corps has provided. I tried to tell her I wouldn't starve. This was a mistake.

Mom: "Kristie. How to make injera? Where?"
Me: "uhh… that might not be in here."
Mom: "Ki wot. Where?"
Me: "umm… yeah… I don't think…."
Mom: "not good. You no eat."

I'll admit, the cookbook is a bit lacking. Excerpt from the "how to fry an egg" section: "listen salmonella head- it is cooked when there are no runny parts at all." The sarcasm seems a bit unnecessary. But it contains recipes for granola and cornbread, so I'm happy. You know, I think my goal for this post was going to be to not talk about food at all. I'm not sure how I ended up here.

So that's the update for now… I hope everyone is enjoying Thanksgiving!! I miss you all! Much love!

Ohh… wind is dangerous. You eat.

2007-11-13T10:19:00.000-06:00

Host mom is always trying to find new, inventive ways to get me to eat more. This week's most creative: insisting that the wind was going to blow me away if I didn't eat. It is windy season, you know. In the mornings it sounds like the roof is going to blow off and the power has even been knocked out a few times. I don't think I'm going anywhere though. Another interesting tactic: telling me I eat like a small boy. I don't even know how to take that.

Things here are still going well. When it got to the point that we felt like we absolutely could not take one more language class or technical session, we got a break! Last Saturday we went to Wonchi Lake for a day trip. It's set down in a crater with about a 4k hike to the water. There is an island in the middle with a monastery and we rode in canoes carved out of trees to it. We had the option to ride horses back up the mountain at the end of the afternoon, but for some reason I thought it would better to hike it. I always forget about altitude. It was like death, but peace corps had watermelon waiting for us at the top! Seed spitting wars abounded. I did not win and have a watermelon juice- covered shirt to prove it. It was a really fun day and felt great to be outside for once.

While at Wonchi, I had the opportunity to ask about property ownership in Ethiopia. I had been curious for a while and I know you are too, so I'll share. People don't own property in Ethiopia. In cities like Addis and Wolisso, people pay the government to lease the land and also pay taxes on it. Occasionally people get kicked out of homes because someone else wants it and is willing to pay more to lease it. In rural areas, like Wonchi, where families have lived on the land forever, they are usually exempt from leases and just have to pay taxes. This is good, because I doubt they could afford the lease anyway. Mr. DeSoto would advocate for reform. It's easier to turn assets into capital when property is fungible.

People have started receiving packages from home and with them have come the highly coveted DVDs. This weekend's feature presentation was Elf. We're now all ready for cold weather, Christmas trees, syrup, gingerbread houses, Christmas songs, family, and snow. It maybe was not a wise movie choice. We've decided for next weekend that Zoolander would be a better idea. "Francisco! That's fun to say! Francisco. Francisco. Francisco."

Sunday's great adventure was cooking an American dinner for the family. It was almost like a real family dinner!!! Except without the Wal-Mart run in the Mini, a stove, oven, refrigerated food, or the true family…. My friend Christen came over to help and we decided hamburgers and mashed potatoes were the American way to go. I realized that this dinner would never amount to anything that would make Sims or Wardo proud when we went to the butcher and watched him cut the meat off of a hanging slab of cow. This was quickly followed by the realization that we would have to turn this into ground beef on our own. We also forgot that we had never seen a grill here. In the end, they turned out great for hamburgers that were made in a skillet. Saving factors: Mrs. Dash and ketchup. I'll be honest, when my mom made me pack the Mrs. Dash I thought to myself, "In my four years of college I have never once used Mrs. Dash. Why the heck would I need it in Ethiopia?" A better question would be, "how do moms always know?" And I cannot over-emphasize this ketchup. We were dubious at first (sketchy packaging), but it was just like Heinz 51. I will now be putting it on everything. Everything. Lessons learned? Don't trust Ethiopian butter. It'll ruin your mashed potato experience. But a good dosing of ketchup will almost fix ruined mashed potatoes. My family now thinks all Americans eat potatoes with ketchup, but I'm ok with that. [edit: came home from school today and learned another valuable lesson- Don't leave ketchup with the family. They don't know how to use it responsibly. My spaghetti sauce was made of ketchup. I retract my statement about putting it on everything.]

We had Bible study again Sunday morning. It's been great getting close to this group of girls and God is really using us to support, encourage, and challenge one another. I really can't express what a blessing this is. And the group is expanding, so that's exciting. It's going to be weird leaving these people in a few weeks, when I feel like we are just getting to the point of being comfortable and open with each other.

This brings me to the fact that training is over halfway done. This week we do practicum in Wolisso (I'm doing one at a church that works with orphans and vulnerable children- I'm excited), next week we find out our site placements, on the 24 th we go to our sites for a week to see where we'll be living the next two years, then we only have two more weeks of training until swearing in and being sent out on our own. It has the potential to go really fast.

I have a midterm language test tomorrow. I am obviously procrastinating.

It's kinda weird sending these one-sided conversations out. Anytime anyone wants to send an e-mail detailing their current life, I wouldn't complain. In fact, I'd probably be really excited about it. No pressure though. Also, if you feel there are topics that should be discussed, please let me know. Often when I don't know what to talk about, I talk about food. This could get old soon.

I love you all and miss you a ton. Still reading the letters from the packet… you guys are incredible.

First area of reform: establishing a FDA

2007-10-29T17:44:00.000-05:00

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)

Aye Konjo

2007-10-17T15:20:00.000-05:00

A post! I will find a way around internet blocks! Ha. (from the editor: emailed to Mom and cut/pasted from there).

So, here is the update after a full week in Ethiopia… things are going really well! The group has settled into out host families and consensus is that everything is much nicer than we expected. I went to a friend's house today and she even had a real flushing toilet! I am staying in a house with electricity and a tv! It gets one channel, ETV, which plays either the same three music videos or news that I have no hope of understanding. But don't worry… my host sister also has a dvd of music videos that offers some variety. Can't beat traditional Oromo music videos... I made the mistake of introducing UNO my second night here. We play a lot of uno now. Every night. For hours. And hours. I'm really good at numbers and colors in Amharic. This week I plan on pulling out the Frisbee to put some options out there. Anything but uno.

Our days are long and structured. Rooster and call to prayer around 5:00am. No going back to sleep after that. Running from 6:00 to 7:00. Breakfast. Language from 8:30 to 11:30. Lunch. More training from 1:30 til 5:00. Back home. Tell family what I learned today in Amharic. Dinner. ETV. UNO. Debate how badly I need to use Shint Beyt (squatty potty). Collapse in bed. Watch mosquitoes fly into net. Ponder how bad malaria is going to be when I get it. Fall asleep to the sound of howling dogs tearing each other apart. Repeat.

My family is great… I live with a woman and her 10-year-old niece. My inatey (mother) speaks good English, so I have communication easier than most. They are both great at speaking to me in Amharic though and are teaching me new words constantly. It's awesome and exhausting. I think I am the difficult child, however, and amuse my peace corps friends at how often I get in trouble. I can't possibly eat enough to please inatey, my room is constantly a mess (Schloppy comes to Ethiopia… who knew?) so my sister feels the need to help me clean it, my hair won't stay in the braids they put it in (they act like this is my fault), and I'm never home on time. Classic phone conversations:

Sister: Kristiana! (this is apparently my name)
Me: yes… hello.
Sister: come to us!
Me: I'm on my way.
Sister: yes. Ok. Hurry.

I haven't had this much supervision in years and it's funny sometimes. My sister is also brutally honest. I haven't been able to wash my hair consistently and it's gross, so yesterday I finally pulled it back in a ponytail. When sister saw me, she made a disapproving clicking noise at me (she does this a lot) and said "aye konjo" (not beautiful). Thanks a lot, sis.

Sunday I went to the Orthodox church with inatey. It was an incredible, overwhelming experience. Before we left for church at 6:00am, she put the Orthodox head covering on me. I thought this would help me blend in. No. As soon as we enter the church, the priest spots me and beckons me to the front where the men sit. Inatey shoves me forward and when I look back she is lost in a sea of white head coverings. Panic. Fortunately when I get to the front, cool married peace corps couple, Chris and Liz, are already there. I am handed a walking stick that everyone else in the front was holding… still no clue what that was about. Two hours of worship followed with an incredibly old, wise looking Ethiopian man poking me and saying, "sit" or "stand." I liked him a lot. We soon found out that this was no ordinary Sunday. It was the 81 st anniversary of this church, which means hours of celebrating, preaching, and worship. It also explained the cameraman who kept getting us on film (cynical church-self was thinking "seriously? Cameras in church here too?"). We are constantly the objects of excessive attention, but it was especially difficult during worship when focus should be on the God of our salvation. I struggle with feeling like I am in the way most days. The service was an experience though- lots of incense, drums, chanting, kneeling, praying, children drinking holy water… It was a humbling experience, realizing that we are all part of the same body and worshiping the same God in different ways. After the service we all hiked up a hill to the site of the original church for some more singing and chanting. We were overlooking all of Wolisso and it was beautiful.

Since Sunday was filled with new, interesting, and sometimes unbelievable (a few people wound up at the charismatic church) experiences for everyone, the subject of faith is openly discussed among the group. It's awesome and Providential. Liz and I were talking about church today and it turns out that she and Chris are reformed Presbyterian… we're going to start listening to Tim Keller sermons they have on their computer on Sunday nights. Incredible. I have also made good friends with an MK from Kenya, Becca, who is great. I'm now praying that I am posted relatively close to the people I have grown closer to. It's also been a good opportunity to hear what other people believe and why they are here. Pray that I have the ears to hear and words to speak when necessary.

Tonight was another great night… Liz, Becca, Nicole and I went out to Nagash Lodge, a resort on the edge of town for tourists. We had run into some white people who turned out to be teachers at a school for missionary kids in Addis (Providential?). They were in Wolisso for a few days of vacation and invited us to come have dinner with them. Now the lovely thing about the lodge is that you can take a shower for 5 birr. The most satisfying 50 cents I have ever spent. I hadn't taken a shower in 6 days… bucket baths do not count, I've decided. This will be a weekly occurrence. We also ate food! Real food! No wat! No injera! Meat! I hadn't had meat in a week! Tuna! Ice cream!

Pat- I'm stirring up interest in Catan. People want to play. I'm nervous… I've never been the one explaining how everything works. And as much as I mock you for your horrible set-up technique, I'm not sure I know how to do it any better. I'll keep you updated.

Em, James, and Kara- the headlamp ties with the iPod for absolute necessity… thanks so much!

Uhh… sorry this is so long… I'm typing it up before I go to the internet place giving me too much time to think and be wordy… I miss you all and find myself wishing you were all here! Much love.

p.s. The best time to call would be 9pm-12pm central time. it's early in the morning here, the rooster has already woken me up, and the phone network isn't as busy (fewer dropped calls).

phone number for Kristen

2007-10-12T12:00:00.000-05:00

Kristen has not been able to access her blog, but she did get a phone number. She asked me to post this info(which is a new experience for one who is a non-blogger!) so that ya'll can contact her (on Skype).

251 91 311 0068 (251 is Ethiopia country code)

She is now in Wolisso and is in language training; "things are good... learning a lot! making friends!"

Kristen's Mom, Velina

heading out...

2007-10-05T23:50:00.000-05:00

After three intense days of training, i finally know exactly what i will be doing in Ethiopia, who I will be doing it with, where we will be doing it at, and just how high speed the internet is. ok, so really... none of that is true. but i have met the people that i'm going with and learned all about peace corps values and goals! our group of 43 is really interesting, diverse, intelligent, and hilarious.

A few group specifics:
- the majority of people in the group are named Kristen (3), Christen (1), Christie (2), Christina (1), or Chris (1). they're already calling me Straw and i love it.
- most of us are around my age, but we do have some 50+ and they're spunky.
-8 out of 43 are guys. the ratio is worse than samford.

Apparently it's a pretty big deal that we're going back into ethiopia after 10 years with no pc presence. Over the past few days, we've met with the director of the pc, the deputy director, the african director, a congressman, and tonight i shook the hand of the ethiopian ambassador to the united states. our team was invited to the ethiopian embassy for some tasty food samples and words of encouragement. people tell us this is a unique event and that we're special. it was like a pep rally! everyone seems ready to go now and excitement levels are high. could just be from our first round of malaria pills though....

We've also found out that our first 10 weeks will be spent training in wolisso and we are told that it is a land of internet and honey (reston/heaven anyone?) after officially becoming peace corps volunteers on december 15 (there is a big swearing in ceremony... you're all invited. it's a saturday...) we will be sent out to who knows where.

So things are good. I am good. People are good. Good. I would really appreciate prayers... tonight has been full of intense goodbyes and it seems like tomorrow will only bring more. Pray that I would rest in confidence and trust, not in my own abilities but in what God can do. Also, pray for friendships... there are many random connections and people with similar interests, so I'm excited to get to know people better. Pray that i am able to see the needs of my teammates and that i am willing to be a servant to them. Thank you for your prayers.

i feel like this is scattered and that i'm rambling, so... i'll practice and get better at this blogging thing. love you guys, appreciate the phone calls and encouragement more than you know, and i'll be in touch soon!

this makes me self-conscious... and i don't like it.

2007-09-16T19:07:00.000-05:00

in an attempt to avoid mass e-mails (which i can only write with jamie's guidance) and also share pictures that i feel may be of interest to some people (mostly my parents), i have resigned myself to starting this blog. it will undoubtably be cheesy (note the title). my apologies. the nice thing about this is that you don't have to read it if you don't want to, unlike mass e-mails! really, i'm doing you a favor.

i am now going to attempt to post a picture to make sure i know how:

this is my roommate. she is neat.

these are my friends. i like them.

i know how to post pictures now.