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!
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Those lazy summer days…
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Excuse me? Doctor?
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!
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!
Sunday, February 1, 2009
The Exciting Moment Moving to White House
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!
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!
Monday, November 10, 2008
In my life, never have I seen such a season
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.
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.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
The other, other white meat
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!
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!
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Finote Selam is the place where you survive
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!
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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)