When we returned to Mekele after IST I felt relief. Relief because this was the first time that we came back to site after having been away for a long time and it felt good to come back. I got the same feeling I get every time I come home. Like I was rounding the corner to Oakland Park Boulevard after having been on the Sawgrass Expressway for far too long driving from Gainesville or driving past the cornfields and farms of my childhood when entering Lancaster County. We were home.
Addis, as you can guess from my last post, is a bit overwhelming. So we were thrilled to find out that Peace Corps would allow Scott and I some time to go to Bekoji and visit our host family for a few days before we returned to our beloved city of Mekele. We thought that we would not be able to visit our family until the summer or even next Ethiopian Christmas. Mekele is 750km from Addis Ababa and Bekoji is a four hour drive (on a good traffic day) from Addis. So it's a journey and we did not think we would be making it so soon after leaving our host family at the end of PST.
We left Addis around 8 o'clock in the morning taking a contract taxi to the Kality Bus station. If you haven't heard from other volunteers serving in Ethiopia this is how the bus station, anywhere in Ethiopia, works. You get out of the cab and there are about 40 people trying to "help you with your bags". I use quotations because after they "help" you, they expect at least a 2 birr tip for their troubles. Most the time when people try to help with my bags I slap their hand away. We all get a kick out of the ferenji woman slapping hands away. When you make it through the sea of very helpful people you are bombarded with the names of every city imaginable in Ethiopia. People shouting "Adama! Adama! Adama!" or some other city's name. If you show interest in a city then the bus boy will basically push you to the bus to make sure you can't find another bus to take you. When you get to the bus you have to watch them put your bag on top of the bus and tie it so no one can take your belongings. I have come to the realization that you can bring just about anything you want onto the bus, albeit with a little protest, and your things can come with you at no extra charge. Go Ferenji.
The bus ride is not as bad as one might think being all crowded and smelly and what not. If you can get a seat by the window and make sure no habesha tries to close it on you, it is quite enjoyable. Although if someone decides to vomit, well then you all suffer. My Shayna was actually vomited on by a woman sitting behind her. Yep, right on her back. All warm and gooey.
However uncomfortable, I love watching all the towns pass by. Each one is so different from the last and the landscape changes with every hill or mountain we pass. The people and animals are something to behold too as they go about their daily lives. Either sitting and chewing chat or walking with the herd to next destination. Everyone is wearing a "gavi" or a cloth that is hand stitched from white thread that people drape around themselves to keep warm in the early morning.
After about four hours on the first bus then switching buses we arrived in Assella. I really don't like this city partially because the harassment was terrible during PST and because at any given time you can see an old man urinating in the street. And by see I mean you can see everything. I was happy to be in Assella this time however because that meant we were very close to Bekoji and we were not staying for any length of time.
As we were driving up the familiar road I realized how happy it made me that it was, in fact, familiar. The landscape had changed somewhat because it wasn't rainy season anymore but it was still Bekoji. I recognized the large mounds of red dirt and the signs on the road that I used as a marker for my early morning runs. When we got to our stop I called our host mom to tell her we would put our things at the hotel and then come to see her in which she promptly replied, "no Jessi, you will stay at home." We got out and walked the familiar path to Ato Solomon and Tigist's house.
Genet opened the door and jumped into my arms. Had she gotten taller in just four months? Yekerwondu, Nanati, and Maeza all came out of the house to greet us. I couldn't believe it but Yekerwondu (the two-year-old terror) actually remembered me. Seeing the compound was like going to see my parents while I was in college. I would look around for all the similarities and all the differences making notes about what had changed and what it was that I remembered. Then I saw Tigist and it was the same look my parents give me when I come home because I look different too.
That night was all catching up and laughing, playing games the girls' had learned while we were gone and getting ready for lunch. Tigist knew that we enjoyed shakla tibs and that's exactly what we got.She had prepared them especially for us and we got to enjoy them with Jill and Devon, the new Peace Corps volunteers from G8, living with Tigist during their own PST. We got to hear the familiar woes and awes at living in Ethiopia during PST and we got to meet the other volunteers who are living with the various host families around Bekoji.
Scott and I had one afternoon where we went around to visit some of the other families we had gotten to know during our stay. And yes, we had a very good time with Nathan's family. We left with full bellies (I mean uncomfortably full, I couldn't really walk) and a realized appreciation for those families and how we were able to affect them as well. As we were walking back to our house when a little girl caught up with us and called me "Mrs. Axe". This is name I had told students to call me during our teaching practicum back in July. I honestly did not know how to react but all I could do was smile and be grateful for this girl for recognizing me as her teacher. We taught for two weeks in various classrooms so I maybe taught this particular girl and her class all of two times. This was a huge moment and Scott and I beamed at each other while we began to grasp the depth of that moment.
That one moment of recognition whether she enjoyed my class or simply recognized that I was that teacher on that day was still more than I could have hoped for. There is a saying we have as volunteers, "enjoy the small victories". This moment, in an objective sense, is small maybe insignificant to some people, but this small victory was huge to me and my service as a volunteer. I am going to hold on to this moment for a long time because who knows when I will get another one? Maybe I won't get another one. But truely, I did not think that would happen.
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