Sarah with an H

I have been asked multiple times in the past couple of weeks why I haven’t been writing in my blog. Honestly, life to me here is pretty normal. I didn’t write a blog in America because everyone else was doing the same things I was and who was I to think that I was special? Well, I moved to Ethiopia with the Peace Corps and thought that was special so I started a blog. 

The first couple of months were exciting and I loved noting all the crazy differences between America and Ethiopia but now those differences are my every day and are no longer differences. They still annoy me. Like, when the bus boy collecting all the money snaps in my face because he wants to be paid or when the waitress is in the back of the restaurant watching television and I have to get up and get her because we are ready to order. All these things provide daily laughter for us volunteers but that hardly provides exciting or moving tales for people back home.  So, today I thought I would write about my very special friend, Sarah. While talking about Sarah, maybe I can highlight the difficulties with the Ethiopian education system and how despite a lack of opportunities, this incredible young woman refuses to give up. Maybe she’ll help me to never give up on anything.

Sarah is a regular 15 year old girl who happens to live in Ethiopia. She loves her cell phone (or her mobile as all the kids call it) and inevitably loses that same cell phone about every two weeks. I used to not answer numbers I didn’t know for fear that it would be some random Ethiopian who dialed the wrong number and in finding out that I was a foreigner would repeatedly call my phone after I initially hung up. Now, because Sarah constantly loses her mobile and calls me from someone else’s phone I pick up in the off chance that it’s her. Sarah also loves clothes (even though her wardrobe is very minimal) and she loves being called beautiful, which she is. The one thing Sarah does not love about being an Ethiopian teenager is that she can’t go to a private school where the quality of education is obviously and painfully better. She would love to go to a school where she can exercise her skills with capable teachers and converse with fellow students with equal talents.  I don’t know any kid in America who says that.

I first met Sarah when she was assigned to my Green Team for Camp GLOW Mekelle 2013. When I first met her, among the craziness that was orientation, I assumed that she was another “Mekelle Girl”. We had girls from all over Tigray but the only kids who had access to a larger city (with an airport) were the Mekelle kids. We called the teenage girls “divas” because they wore lipstick and giggled- a lot. (I am starting to realize as I’m writing this, that this doesn’t sound so bad compared to what awaits us back in the U.S. Apparently, Miley Cyrus is “twerking” on sports mascots and kids are crying because they can’t have a BMW for their 16^th birthday. Maybe some kids wearing make-up and chatting too much isn’t such a bad thing.)

I was easily impressed with this young woman once she opened her mouth. Her English was excellent and she was more than willing to help me out with all the kids. Most of my kids did not speak English and my Tigrinya is not on the level of explaining what a summer camp is and what I expect of my team. Sarah jumped for the opportunity and I was grateful.

Throughout camp Sarah quickly became a favorite among the counselors because she was able to help translate and she was a good teammate. She never broke the rules but still had fun being a girl. It was weird how professional she was while we were in session because she seemed like a counselor herself but then session would end and she would be gossiping with the other girls. Without Sarah I would not have found out whom One Direction is (although I’m still a little foggy on what songs they actually sing that I would actually listen to).

Camp ended and Sarah got the Camp Leader award which she well deserved and she cried along with everyone as they were saying their goodbyes. Before camp ended I knew I needed to work with Sarah again but I needed to give her a better opportunity to showcase her talents as a leader. That’s when Grassroots Soccer provided that opportunity.

                Grassroots Soccer is a global HIV/AIDS education program that is also a partner with Peace Corps. Who better to run GRS than Peace Corps Volunteers and their counterparts? We had used the program during camp and gave the campers certificates for completing the program so Sarah was a graduate. I had to write to the GRS and Peace Corps staff and explain that even though Sarah was only 14, she could easily learn the material and facilitate it in a successful program. After some debate Sarah was allowed to accompany meet as my counterpart to the GRS training in Mekelle.

                For one week Sarah and I were trained in the program (which Sarah had already participated) and performed a “teach back” to the group (that Sarah led by herself) where we performed one of the activities as if we were running our own program and then we were ready to have our first intervention at my primary school with my English Club of 8^th grade girls. During the training, the GRS staff from South Africa found out that not only was Sarah only 14 but that she also graduated from the program. They asked her and another GRS graduate, Lilly, to present what they learned from GRS in a 15 minute presentation in front of the whole training group. I beamed with pride as Sarah and Lilly talked about Camp GLOW and GRS but did it with such enthusiasm and ability. Everyone looked at me with wild eyes, mouthing how incredible Sarah was and how well she spoke for someone so young. I couldn’t help but feel pride in the fact that I not only knew this remarkable young woman but that she was working with me.

                After our training Sarah and I organized and facilitated the GRS program at Adi Haki School. For four weeks we met with my English Club and Sarah led 12 girls through the program to completion. She did everything and I literally did nothing except oversee that we were hitting all the required marks. At the end I did all the Monitoring and Evaluating junk and she was ready to start a new program at another school.

                Now, Sarah is looking forward to applying for a junior counseling position at this year’s Camp GLOW Mekelle 2014 and she is finishing her first year of high school. Sarah’s dreams include earning a scholarship to an American University and not getting in trouble for correcting her teachers for their many English mistakes. Sarah lives in a small two bedroom house with her mother, brother, a new baby brother.  She prepares coffee every day for her family, helps with household chores, studies English everyday (not homework), and plans for her future. Sarah does all of this in the hopes that because she works so hard she will be given better opportunities. Sound familiar America? Unfortunately a lot of those opportunities will not be available to her because she is in a government school in Ethiopia.

                Private school students and students who live in Addis Ababa, the capital, are more likely to earn scholarships elsewhere. Hopefully, Sarah’s skills will get her to University in Addis where she can earn her Ethiopian undergraduate degree (which won’t count anywhere else in the world) and become a doctor in Ethiopia. My hopes for her are that she gets whatever she wants and if I had more influence in the world I would get her a scholarship to any school she desired. But the one thing I have learned (and hope I am wrong in this) is that in Ethiopia some things are just not possible even for a girl as talented and wonderful as Sarah. Still, Sarah works harder and keeps smiling and I am thankful to know such motivated and capable young woman. 

The Nature of This Injera Beast

My friend Becca will be boarding a plane tonight to start her long journey back to America and her home. After two years she is going home. I think about the day she will have today. Her last day in Ethiopia. What will she think about while counting down the hours till she will no longer call this place home. Will she think of the moments that stand at the forefront of her memories? Or will she search hard for the one she may have forgotten? What will she think constitutes a good last meal in Ethiopia considering she is going to the land of plenty? Will she be sad or lonely in this moment knowing that none of her brothers or sisters in arms is going with her this time?

                I know that I am happy for my friend. I long for that moment when I step off the plane and I know that around one corner is my family who I haven’t seen in over two years. The excitement of knowing the familiar but having been changed so thoroughly that it seems you will see it again for the first time. I’m talking about the drive from the airport to your home which you've done more times than you can count but this time, is different. My friend will think about a lot today but I hope she thinks of how much we will miss her from our lives here and how happy we all are that she has succeeded where we haven’t yet.

                I first met Becca when she was visiting our city for the day and stopped off to have lunch at our dearly departed “Italian” restaurant.  The “Italian Restaurant”, as we called it because an Italian man owned it, was a hard place to find. Come to think of it, I’m not sure who found it first. One of the great mysteries of our time here I suppose. After providing patronage to this place once or twice most of the volunteers in Tigray were familiar with its semi-secret location and came at least once or twice per week. Becca happened to come in when we were eating lunch.

              

  I knew she was a Peace Corps Volunteer immediately and I knew more specifically that she was an environment volunteer. All environment volunteers have a certain “dirty” look about them like they’ve been rolling around in the mud all day or planting trees. She was wearing an Ethiopian soccer jersey and some sort of headband used to hide her 6 days not washed hair (a custom I am now used to).  She was smiling, a lot. I know most Americans are known for smiling too much and I’m not complaining, I like this about us, but she was brilliant. She spoke very quickly and was excited to meet us, the new group of volunteers.  After a much deserved chicken salad sandwich she hitched a ride with us on the line taxi so she could go to the bank because she didn't have a bank in her town. We learned that she was a part of the elusive G6 group and that she had been in Ethiopia for one year already.

                We were friends instantly. You can’t not be friends with Becca. If you don’t immediately want to be her friend she will find you and turn you. Once you are friends you wonder how you weren’t before then you realize that you hadn't met her and therefore couldn't possibly be friends. Then you go cross-eyed because the space-time continuum is messing with your brain. What I’m saying is that you have the feeling that you've been friends for as long as you can remember.

                Fast forward 10 months later and my friend is leaving. We went through some pretty crazy times. First crazy moment, Becca beat a man into the fetal position because he grabbed her boob (well deserved but the man should be in jail) and broke her arm because she hit him on top of the head. We haven’t had others like that together but she has seen her fair share of crazy. More normal moments include “girls nights” where we would watch movies, make food, and just be ridiculous. Her working at my school to create an environment club and now having all my students ask me where R’ebkah is. Our counterpart being given gifts from Becca before she left then our counterpart crying because she loves Becca so much.  The Injera Monster (we will see you again), Harry Potter Party, slapping kids, World Maps, family photos, and the general way of living here in Ethiopia that will provide us many stories to tell back home.

                Having good friends here is sometimes the only way you keep your head above water. They push you out of the house when you feel like taking one step over the threshold will break you. They make you laugh when that is the one thing you needed and they make this experience. The friends you make here are the ones you have for life. No one else can know what it means to be here day after day. But they do and they will always understand you. One of my own is leaving today and I’m going to have to muster the courage to pretend that this is just the nature of the beast. Soon we will see each other again in that lovely land we call home. I’m lucky to have Scott but I was luckier to have Becca too. 

It Is Not Possible

The past couple of weeks have been fraught with the legendary Peace Corps “downs”. I knew I was headed into a funk when most of my thoughts turned immediately to the negative if something or someone would upset me by yelling some atrocious word because it’s the only one they know in English. I found myself dreading the moment between songs when there would be nothing but the sounds outside of my headphones. I knew that someone would most likely say something to me or about me and that act would ruin my 8 minute walk to my school.

                Pedestrians or the inevitable slackers on the side of the street in tea houses aren’t my only problem this month. Every time I go into Addis (which is more frequent than I assumed it would be) for a PAC meeting it seems as if I am splitting my work life in two. I am excited to get on the plane and have at least four days to work with my fellow PAC members and get things done. I come home (happy to even be home) and upon my return my teachers ask me where I have been because I have not been at school. By the way, they already know that I was in Addis doing work for Peace Corps. Either they forget or just have fun making me feel like I am never at my own school. The other possibility is that it’s just culture for them to ask me where I have been and I am taking it wrongly because I am already frustrated. For the purposes of my sanity, I normally choose the latter.

                April 15 is a particularly frustrating tale. But I will get to that in a minute. When I returned from Addis I was, for the millionth time, dealing with G.I. issues. For one of the days I was actually bed ridden during a barbeque at my own house. So, needless to say, I did not go to work that week but I did keep in contact with my principal and my counterpart. They knew that I was ill and things at school went on without me (as they should because I am not a permanent fixture).  Every Friday in my absence was English Communication Day led by my counterpart, Berhana. Other projects were put on hold though. English Club for Students is not solid enough to be led by another teacher, my English Club for Teachers is pretty much dead in the water due to lack of attendance, and the Teacher Mentor Program can’t be done without me seeing as I’m the mentor.

                After my week of unspeakable bathroom atrocities, I headed back into school eager to get things back on track after my long absence. Becca and I were ready to continue painting our World Map and I had some fun things planned for the eighth graders for English Club. As I walked into my office I noticed that it had been used as what appears to be a paper shredding room that had no trash can. Pieces of paper were everywhere so I asked my Vice Director what happened and he immediately began tidying up. After protesting a bit Becca and I began to help. Once I sat down at my desk I realized something else. The power strip was missing. Not a problem. This can be easily handled by going into the office next door and asking for it back. Nope. The power strip had a shortage. No more power strip, therefore, no more computer work for the time being.

                We then proceeded to the world map to paint. The next day we came back to paint again and found that some of the students decided to dip there cute little (not in kindergarten or first grade) fingers all over the map. Setback? I think so. This exercise continued for the next three days until Becca and I decided that we could not continue work on the map until the Summer when the students will not be there. You may be asking yourself if we exhausted all available forms of influence in order to get the students to stop defacing the map. Yes we did. We begged the teachers to speak with their students about the importance of the map and all the hard work we had been putting into the map. Not too long ago I talked about the map during the morning announcements. Apparently, as in the U.S., some students just don’t have respect for the works of others. I am hoping that by discontinuing our work the students will have learned a lesson. I may be hoping for too much.

                During our frustrations with the map we had a number of teachers approach us and we pleaded again to have them speak with their students. The reply of the teachers only added to our current climate of toxic negative thinking. The teachers complained that it was the students. “They are all stupid” they claimed. Now this is for lack of a better word. Remember people, most of my teachers have very little skills in English so when they use the word stupid I take that for a whole host of different words. For example, they could mean “disrespectful”, “arrogant”, selfish”, or really just “unable to learn”. Either way they don’t literally mean that their students are stupid.  Becca and I assured the teachers that t is their job to teach the students not only to not touch the map but also to not keep calling us “ferengi”. Yes, I am still being called “foreigner” by the students I have been teaching for eight months. The teachers respond by explaining that when they were children it was very exciting to see a foreigner but that kids do not do this today. After we just explained that the kids call us ferengi he responded by saying that that doesn’t happen anymore. So I reiterated. “Every day students, children, even young men call me ferengi or baby.” He acted shocked and asked me if this is true what I was saying. Part of me wanted to shake him and say “Yes, you moron. I just said that didn’t I?” But it is a tribute to my time here that I did not do that but recognized that him asking me that is a part of his culture. What he really means is that he is genuinely shocked and is expressing that shock by asking me a question.

                After a heated discussion we all came to the conclusion that this kind of behavior in the students would only stop if enough people were to teach children that it is wrong to call someone a name because of their skin color or where they come from (sound familiar?) and that it would take some time. Well, I will never see that change in our time in Ethiopia so here’s hoping! My week back was turning out to be somewhat of a disaster. We had to stop the World Map Project, my English Club which was moved to Wednesdays was cancelled because no one told me that the students would be occupied and I had to move the club meeting times back to Mondays, and English Communication Day was another lackluster occasion. Most of the teachers do not participate in English Communication Day nor do the students because they are too afraid to speak and be wrong. That problem is for another blog though because I have an idea for a solution but I would need some help and right now help is what I do not have.

                Which brings us to April 15 which happens to be today (well I am writing this on April 15 but most likely won’t post till another day.) After my USAID visit, which happened on Tuesday but for obvious reasons I will not discuss in this blog, it was decided that better communication was needed between me and my administration. Well, duh. More than I would like to admit there have been scheduling conflicts and miscommunications that have abruptly dismantled any plans or programs I had made at the school. I would say communication is the biggest issue I deal with on a daily basis. I have learned to go with the Ethiopian flow but sometimes my American culture (yeah, we have a culture) just creeps up and wants to tell everyone that their excuses are unacceptable. Today wasn’t that day. Nor, will any day be that day. I revere my relationships with my teachers and staff and I refuse to tarnish them because I have lost my temper. That doesn’t mean that I don’t play out scenarios in my head.

                After discussing new methods of communication we decided on a weekly report wherein I state what my functions were and what problems or successes I encountered. Along with this report I expressed what I would like my plans to be for the next week. I wanted to start the Teacher Mentor Program (TMP) again  with a new teacher, reschedule English Club for Students on Monday, create a presentation for  the teachers about CPD (for information check out my other posts), and start work on Earth Week. My plans faltered again because 5-8^th grade were going to be in mid semester exams. That was okay because the teachers I wanted for the TMP were going to be 1-4 teachers. “Not possible” was the answer I got. All teachers would be busy. I didn’t press because I would have probably smoked at the ears. Well, at least there was English Club for Students (CPD presentation can be done at home). Or so I thought. I went into work this afternoon, preparing for English Club only to find out at 2:30pm that no one was coming back to school for the afternoon. My Vice Director, when confronted by this fact, merely shrugged and said that there was no school. “But what about English Club?” I demanded.  “Oh! What about tomorrow?” he asked. “Is there school in the afternoon?” I had no right to hope. And of course he said that there wasn’t so no hope for English Club. Don’t ask me about how this logic works out because it doesn’t.

                This is pretty typical for numerous volunteers here in Ethiopia. We are told after days or weeks of preparation that on the scheduled day of events that “it is not possible”. Most of us have come to expect it and therefore are not bothered when these disappointments rear their ugly heads. Sometimes though, it cuts through and leaves us wondering about the impact our work has or whether or not our schools even want us here. Two years of your life is a lot to sacrifice for uncertainties but I guess that’s part of the experience. I haven’t given up and I hope it doesn’t come across that I don’t love or appreciate my life here. I do. I learn something every day but not all of it is good. I learn some things about myself that I may not be proud of but I hope to keep the persistence and optimism I think I have acquired during my life so I can change for the better. 

Work Dudes.

The thing I have noticed lately is that the more time we spend here the faster everything seems to go. It is now March 15th and we have been in country for more than nine months.

                Last month we watched the Super Bowl, our first away from America. And in order to do this we had to ask our friend, a bar owner, to keep his place open all night because the game would be playing at two am our time. By the time the game was over the sun was coming up. School had just had first semester exams and was ready for a two week break. Well, for Scott it was a two week break. My school went right back to work after one week of holiday.

                For the second semester I decided that whatever I wanted to in the school I was just going to do without the sweet demeanor I had in the first semester. I was no longer going to ask multiple times for resources or attendance to my English club meetings. I know we have that saying in America “if you want something done you have to do it yourself”. Well, I have never taken that more seriously. I am supposed to be incorporating local materials and community members but when people are utterly unwilling to attend the things they say they so desperately need, you lose patience with them and begin to work only with people who actually show up. I may have only a few people I work with but when we work together we get things done.

                Sorry for the rant but I guess it helped me transition into my main reason for writing.

I have had an amazing couple of weeks. Not only did we run in a 10K (my first) and finish well but I have also been having huge successes in my professional life and I guess I can attribute these successes to my new tolerance. 

                With the help of my friend Becca and my husband Scott we have started and will finish a World Map Project at my school. The map they had before was outdated and not to scale. Plus, it was in Tigrinya. This map will help students identify the different countries and improve their English. The bright side is that I get to paint something. That’s one of the projects that I have going that will provide quick and lasting results.

                I began my English club with students and  my kids are the best. They are willing to work hard and have fun. We meet every Monday at 4:30pm and so far everything has been going well. I have made contacts at our Regional Education Bureau (REB) and we have begun the process of implementing CPD. The REB is in charge of the education system in Tigray. For those of you who don’t know what CPD is I am going to tell you right now.

                CPD, or Continual Professional Development, is a program mandated by the Ministry of Education in which all teachers and schools continually develop through trainings, mentor programs, and certificate earnings. As of late most teachers (in Ethiopia) do not understand or implement CPD, nor do the Directors of each school. Every school will tell you that they do, but in reality there is no trace of an efficient CPD anywhere. The MoE and Regional Education Bureau have yet to figure out a way to ensure CPD practices in the school because of under staffing and high turnover rates within the school system. They have also not noticed that they have fully trained, and better yet, free staff in their school to help develop the CPD program, the Peace Corps Volunteers.

                In the last two weeks I have made a wonderful contact at the REB with the help of my British Volunteer friend, Barbara. We have been able to break down the process of CPD and conveyed that information to the Tigray PCV’s during our Regional IST this past week. It’s a very complicated process and I now understand why no one has been implementing CPD. In the past Cluster Supervisors have given one training on how to conduct CPD but haven’t evaluated teachers understanding of it nor do they monitor application. This is where Peace Corps can come in. We have the training and the time to help teachers record and gain CPD hours (each teacher is required to have 60 CPD credit hours).

                To top this all off my Program Manager, Daniel Okubit, wants me to help develop a module for the other education PCV’s in Ethiopia and make my school a model school for CPD implementation. For this process I am going to create and distribute a manual that my fellow PCV's can use to implement our new CPD program. Is this a big project? Yes. But, why not?

The Holidays

It has now been seven months in country. We have regular schedules at work albeit we can change them at any moment’s notice. The holidays came fast and passed even faster and the coming months are going to make the end of our first year in country go by just as quickly.

December was a month of new friendships and looking back on some that we may have put on hold for the time being. We gained three new site mates, Rebecca, Elle, and Hannah. Normally Peace Corps doesn’t just move three people at once to a new site but two were special circumstances and one is just a volunteer from the new Group 8. We are in Group 7 and in another five months Group 9 Education will be here marking the end of our first year in country.

Peace Corps reminds me of certain aspects of high school and college sometimes. All the same ridiculous sort of social rituals of high school; rumors, cliques, and the same hurt feelings caused by both but yet the camaraderie and inclusiveness that also accompanies those aspects. The addition of new classes or groups and the older groups rightfully moving on reminds me of college. Everyone gets younger, or looks younger, and you feel the inevitable feeling of being squeezed out of a place that you’ve come to know so well. The older generations pass down their useful yet irrelevant experiences (irrelevant because every volunteer has their own individual experience) because this situation is only understood and appreciated, to a certain extent, by other volunteers.

Still it is an entirely unique situation for everyone involved. So sharing and empathizing are an essential component to this life for all groups. When we were able to meet some of Group 8 Environment in Bekoji while visiting our host family, Scott and I shared how we got through PST and how we continue to “get through” every day. We talked about work and what has been successful for us. Mostly we discussed logistics (how to get people to come to meetings and what the benefits of inviting people to shai buna are) because that information can be transferred throughout every program. While exchanging all this information, in a familiar place that our group thought of as our own, I began to feel the squeezing process take place. It was nice to be knowledgeable and share what we now know about the inner workings of Ethiopian culture and how to be an American living in this country but I felt that time was once again getting the better of me of pushing me to the end of another adventure. Do I enjoy every moment? No. But then again, same goes in America.

Here we are in a new year. I guess I should explain in detail the events and situations that brought us to this point.

Long ago, in ancient PST, Scott and I promised a certain fellow Tigrinya student that we would visit her for Christmas. Back then, Christmas was some event that I could not fathom. We wouldn’t be going to Brett’s annual Christmas Eve party with his family that I have come to think of as part of my own. We wouldn’t be going to midnight mass with my grandparents or opening just one present at my mother-in-law’s house or sitting and talking with her, Carter, and Uncle Bob over wine and delicious food. We wouldn’t be with family. But, choosing not to think about things ultimately brings them speeding to a halt in front of your eyes. The holidays were around the corner and I was not prepared for the emotional consequences of our first holiday away from the home country and family. Thankfully, it wasn’t the disaster I imagined.

Before we left for our holiday weekend we were invited for lunch at Igziharia’s house. She has been making monumental efforts to keep in touch and we are always glad to go somewhere that feels like family. Igziharia also had other intentions for luring us to her house besides the promise of delicious food. She meant to give us a present in the form of savory sweet bread that had baked onto the top “Merry X-Mas”. This gesture caught us off guard but was generous and beautiful all the same. After we left we realized that we probably would not be able to devour this whole thing before we had to leave for our trip so we had Sarunas and Getachew over for dinner so we could have a last dinner together before the holidays. When we first came to Mekelle it seemed like we had garnered a little trio so it was only fitting to have Sarunas over for Mexican food in the form of Christmas dinner.  We made them eat and take away good amounts of our gift from Igziharia so I guess you could say we had some other motives as well. After they both left we packed away our things so we could get up at the crack of dawn the next morning and leave.

We were set to leave on the morning of Christmas Eve, our first trip outside of site besides training. The bus stations in Ethiopia usually give me an anxiety attack before I even get there. I just imagine all of the “where are you go?” questions and the pushing yet leading to the right bus. The yelling and people only talking about us kind of gets to me. But we made it there and found a bus quickly. Maybe it was because it was still dark outside and no one could notice our obvious differences but we didn’t get a single question or comment on the way to the bus. Now actually getting on the bus was another matter. Once everyone saw us they politely began to talk about us amongst themselves. We sat down and settled in. Our hopes of sleep were never really hopes because our previous experiences traveling by bus in Ethiopia have taught us that unless you can literally sleep through anything, you will never sleep on a bus in Ethiopia. However, we were prepared for the long haul and as soon as the sun came up we began to read.

About an hour into the bus ride I looked out of my window and immediately saw the cause of my death. We were basically grinding the edge of a cliff at about 35 km, a cliff that was probably 500 feet from the earth. Mind you were are on a huge bus that seems to be rocking like a cradle and barely hanging on to its own wheels. If I have one very serious and possibly rude criticism of Ethiopia it’s their driving. And I’m from South Florida! Imagine a teenager who recently acquired their license and is trying to show off by driving ten miles over the allotted speed limit through a crowded neighborhood. Now change that teenager to a grown Ethiopian man who has no license and isn’t trying to show off but refuses to go any slower around hairpin turns on a 500 foot cliff. That is the ride to Axum from Mekelle. I truly do not understand the logic behind such daredevil tactics. Is it because they don’t fear death and therefore I should be impressed? Or is it that they do not understand or acknowledge the danger involved in driving so recklessly? Either way, I am never going anywhere by bus again.

We arrived in Axum around two o’clock in the afternoon and after we checked in to the hotel we went to see Christine’s house with Joel, Jenny, and new friend Josh who has lived in Egypt for the past three years. We all went to lunch and caught up with each other and talked about Christmas. Some people told us Merry Christmas and that was nice. At least we weren’t the only ones recognizing the day. That night we had dinner with our Country Director, Greg and his wife and daughter. The woman and her husband who owned the restaurant spend time with family once a year in Lancaster, Pennsylvania my home town. How small is the world? Physically it’s humungous but seriously how many people can know each other across the globe? Well, just when thinking about home became easier that day because we were around our American friends, home came to me in the form of a beautiful Ethiopian woman with a tattoo of the obelisks on her arm and her husband who reminded me of my dad. Touché Ethiopia, touché.

The next morning we woke up, had delicious special full, and went to Joel’s to exchange gifts White Elephant style. I got a bunch of treats courtesy of Christine and Scott got a birthday candle holder that resembles a flower opening when you light it. After presents it was time to sight see because after all, how can you go to Axum and not see what it has to offer. This my first time sightseeing on Christmas but it seemed a good way to spend the day. We went first to the ancient Obelisks and tombs of the Axumite Empire that fell around the time of the fall of Rome. I am still trying to comprehend our experience there so excuse me for not revealing my opinion just now of what it felt like to be there.

While down in the tombs we inevitably did what young people do in ancient structures, we started making jokes and taking goofy pictures. We had a run in with a bat that ruined a good picture opportunity but laughed all the same because we were terrified by a little bat. We walked through the museum for a more serious explanation of the history of this ancient place and its structures. We ran into other ferenji who were pretty surprised that we live in Ethiopia. Reactions we are looking forward to when we get back to America.

After the obelisks we went to Sheba’s palace. Yes, the Queen of Sheba. The walk out of the city was nice and we got to spend time in the ruins all by ourselves. It was nice to site in this questionably structured observation tower and look out over this ancient city. The mountains in Ethiopia never cease to amaze me. I have seen mountains before but these ones are surrounded by arid land that was once incredibly fertile. The markings left on this land by an extinct environment are something I have never before had the pleasure to behold. As we sat looking around, contemplating stealing a camel, we ran out of water so we figured it was time to get some beer and we headed back into town.

Dinner was a nice affair because the food was decent.t the best, but certainly one of the more memorable Christmas dinners. Josh had a friend join us who is Ethiopian but grew up and still lives in Germany. He has the best accent I have ever heard. It’s so unique and undefinable. We were sitting next to another table of ferenji and from what I could tell they were American but we never said one word to each other. Maybe, like us, they have run into so many ferenji during their stay in Ethiopia that it is rendered unnecessary to be introduced. I mean, we aren’t going up to everyone in our home countries and trying to get to know them. After dinner we let whoever wanted a hot shower to take one. Least we could do on Christmas. Then we all settled, accompanied by Ethiopia’s finest wine (Gouder), and watched a Muppet Christmas Carol, a movie I hadn’t seen since childhood. It was nice to recognize parts and songs because they were lodge somewhere in my memory and I only had to be reintroduced to remember them.

The next day we took our last hot shower and headed to the bus station. A young man noticing our ferenji-ness escorted us to the bus that was headed to Mekelle. After getting seated I reached for a tip. Now, all this young did was walk us to a bus, not exactly saving my pets from a burning house or anything as crazy as that. I handed him one birr and he looked at me and said, “one birr.  Is that it?” Because I am a ferenji it is my duty to pay him at least five birr. F that. Well in my indignation Scott pulled out another birr and gave it to this young fellow. Well, now that I was all fired up it was time for the death race back to my home city. I can’t even go into that because it was too traumatic.

The days went by and I succumbed to the cold that had been threatening me since we arrived in Axum. But good things are usually around corner. New Year’s was coming up and we had a serious number of people coming to town. Being in a larger city we meet and befriend a lot of foreigners. I am so happy that English has become a medium because there is no way I could have learned Hebrew, German, and whatever English our friends from across the pond were trying to speak. Besides, beer is good in any language. Apparently so is dancing. We danced the night away. One of our friends here, Getachew, said that he had never seen anything like it and wondered if we did this every year. We all emphatically screamed “yes!” I don’t think I should go into more detail as to respect the privacy of others but let’s go ahead and say whatever happens in Mekelle, stays in Mekelle.

The New Year definitely started off with a bang. Being in Ethiopia with our new friends just made it that much more special. We will never forget that night and this year’s party will be tough to beat. But seeing as it will be our last in country I guess we can try our best. We have our first Program Advisory Committee meeting coming up this month and the next few months will be filled with things to look forward to. Until the next post…

Didn't Think That Would Happen

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.

Bear With Us

It has been a while since I last posted. Things have just been busy and I haven't really had the motivation to write. Everything usually comes at us all at once these days and it's hard to know what's worth writing about. I don't think I'll ever get used to how new and different everything is or how used to them I am becoming. I know that sounds confusing but that's literally how everything is. I have grown used to living here and now feel like I am a part of this culture in some way but things still shock the hell out of me. But seeing as a lot has occured and I feel bad about leaving family and friends so much out of the loop, here I am writing this blog.

October was pretty good month for two reasons. One, we had a great time getting to know some new friends and we didn't have any setbacks at work. And, two it went by really fast. I sort of made this promise to myself that I wouldn't hope for time to go by quickly but sometimes I miss our families and our country a little bit too much. We have been here for almost 6 months and sometimes I can't help but think, "awesome, we have made it a quarter of the way".

I really missed Halloween (American style) but it was nice to have everyone over for our party. I got to make some good food  and I made onion rings for the first time. Beer battered onion rings. I also made fried green tomatoes with a garlic aoili and bruschetta. Some people dressed up. We had a boxer, a basketball player, and Scott was a Floridian. What a stretch. I dressed up as our boss, Dan Baker. I was able to show Dan Baker a picture of myself dressed up as him and he thought it was a riot. Imitation is the best form of flattery...

Most of October was spent traveling to the rest of our schools and gathering information for our CENA's. The CENA (Community Educational Needs Assessment) is a report that conveys our roles as volunteers, the history of our sites, and the needs that our schools and teachers needs. I am really making it out to be a fairly simple report but the amount of effort and finesse that goes into gathering information and making critical assessments of our schools and the community is very taxing. Our reports came out to be about 23 pages. Those 23 pages do not even begin to explain our communities and the issues they face in trying to develop their educational system on first a regional level and then on a national level. I knew that our jobs would be challenging, that we would face obstacles that we may not be ready for, but I didn't realize the scale of what we are dealing with until I wrote this report. I am grateful that Peace Corps provides us an IST (In-Service Training) so we can hone our skills and prepare for our two years of initiaiting and developing programs.

Now on to IST...

We arrived in Addis Ababa full of excitement because we would be seeing everyone and we could venture to our favorite restaurants and eat great food or even see a movie. I forgot how difficult and overwhelming the capital city can be. We live in a fairly large city but I do not feel scared for myself or my possessions as I walk down the street. That's not to say I'm not vigilant in our home town but I'm not as worried that someone will actually do something. We were able to walk to our first destination, the cupcake place, but every few seconds we were being harrassed by adults and children all trying to sell something, take advantage of us, or trying to steal something.

There is a little trick here in Ethiopia where a seemingly nice man will be bending down to tie his shoe and then he will "accidentally" spit on you somewhere near your crotch. When he says "sorry, sorry, sorry" he will try to clean off the spit and while he does so he will pick-pocket you. As a westerner you're so offended and caught off guard by this person who has just spit on you that you are not concerned with him going for your wallet. They usually only do this to males because they think that males carry all the money. HA! Gotcha thieves! Anyway, this little trick has been done to Scott four times including after we got off the plane in Addis and were on our way to get cupcakes.

I knew it was going to happen before the spit even came out of this guys mouth and Scott knew it too. I was talking to my friend Whitney when I saw this man bend down to tie his shoe and inch closer to our group and Scott. I turned heel and headed straight for the guy just as he projected his spit onto Scott's pants. As volunteers physical altercations are prohibited unless you are defending yourself from an attack. This man was not trying to attack Scott but he was trying to rob him so we had to be clever about how we were going to handle this. At first the thief pretended that it was just an accident as we began calling him a "layba" or thief and he began backing off. But as we were screaming at him a get-a-away car pulled up and he quickly exited the street. He had an accomplice! We had about eight very angry ferenji and also two police officers very close by so I think we won that battle.

I know what you guys are thinking so just stop that right now. We feel very safe where we live and for every thief or horrible person here there is ten more amazingly kind people who abbhor that behavior from someone in their country and are embarrassed that that incident happened to us. Just like back home there are good and bad people. Someone looking to take advantage of you and someone willing to genuinely help you out of a tight spot. This was just the fourth time this happened to Scott and though we take these situations very seriously, sometimes you just have to laugh about it after.

After our great night in Addis where we had delicious cupcakes and good German beer we went back to the hotel to get ready for the two weeks ahead in Ambo. The drive to Ambo was great because we hadn't seen this side of the country before. We had lived in Bekoji for two and a half months but this was different and in a different season. Ambo is truly beautiful and the sparkling water is in plenty of supply because that's where it's made.

IST is a two week training where volunteers discuss the CENA and how to move forward. For the first two days the counter parts were present at the trainings so we could do team building activities to better work with one another. My counterpart, Igziharia, was excited to learn about new ways to develop programs and learn more about Peace Corps and how we will work together for the next two years. She is incredibly protective over Scott and I and has called me almost everyday since she went back to Mekele.

Every day except Sunday was a training day. We went over the CENA and then we discussed the VRF (Volunteer Reporting Form) which we turn in every 4 months, and we also did trainings on HIV/AIDS and Malaria. Training didn't stop there though. We also did trainings on Cross Culture, creating and strengthening clubs, safety and security, leadership building, and how to teach grammar. It was varied and strenuous. The sessions were separated into morning sessions with a tea break at 10:30 then a second morning session then lunch at 12:30. After lunch is our first afternoon session with atea break at 3:00 then the second afternoon session. We ended the day at 5:30 every day tired and full to the brim with new information. The only other time I felt so stressed and on a tedious schedule was during Pre-Service Training which I can not believe ended 4 months ago. I guess you could say we are now full fledged volunteers.

Our hotel room in Ambo was very nice. It almost felt a little too nice. We had two rooms with two bathrooms, and two balconies. I got to take a bath for the first time since we have been in country. I didn't realize how much I miss just being able to take a bath. At first, the food at the hotel was great! It tasted great and there was plenty variety (as far as habesha food goes). Unfortunately the food ended up making everyone sick. And I mean everyone. All 63 volunteers had one or more stomach issues and some even contracted bacterial infections. Scott and I got sick but thankfully it only lasted a day and we quickly recovered.

Being with everyone was like a breath of fresh air. We got to hang out at the pool that looks more like a lake and we got to eat shakla tibs after a hard days work. Scott and I love our home but seeing all of our friends again was more powerful than I imagined it would be. We all share this experience together which means we are the only ones who can truly understand and empathize with one anothers problems and joys of being a volunteer here in Ethiopia. It was also nice to hear different stories from all over the country. I knew that we would get to know this country and love it but I didn't realize how much of a local I would become. I have regional pride.

In Tigray we speak a different language, we have different food, and we have different cultural norms. Notice I am saying "we". When I am with my friends from Oromiya we have a friendly banter that can get a bit nasty sometimes. Now this friendly banter is really just between us volunteers. In the country there is a reals strife that doesn't really reach the surface between these two regions. It's mostly political and economical but it is still very real. I am not saying that people are fighting in the streets but the tension here is much like the tension between Ft. Lauderdale and Miami. We really don't like eachother but in the end we're all Floridians. Except me, I'm Pennsylvanian. Or more importantly I'm American.

Training was full of fun times catching up, playing paper football, and we even had a high stakes poker game (50.00 Birr buy in). Scott split the pot with our fellow volunteer and fellow Floridian, Adam. Needless to say the time went by way too fast and that's when we came upon our first Thanksgiving away from home.

At least all of our group was in the same place at the same time. Scott and I had dinner with a smaller group of very good friends Rachel, Shayna, Sam, Nathan, and us. We ate at a great restaurant here in Addis that served us roasted leg of lamb, eggplant calzones, and gnocchi. Not your typical or traditional Thanksgiving but we figured if it was good food and good company then we could call it a good Thanksgiving. Once the food came we went around the table to say what we were thankful for. Every single one of us said how thankful we were to have an amazing support system of family and friends back home who not only support us in the States but also support our decisions for coming here and sacrificing the time we could be spending with them. We were also thankful for eachother.

Now I am writing this blog from the VRC (Volunteer Resource Center)-gosh, Peace Corps loves it's acronyms- and I am trying to process the last couple of months. Before we go back home we are seeing our host-family in Bekoji. Returning to Bekoji will put our time here in perspective. It feels like a lifetime away that we lived there and I am sure our host sisters have grown in more ways than just height. Returning to a place that is familiar here is something I really can't descirbe right now. I'll try my best later but right now I have dueling thoughts in my head.

I am torn between excitement and fear of returning back to our home in Mekele. It will be nice to return and know that we are going home but I am afriad of missing my friends who live so far away. I am excited to get to the real work of being a volunteer here but I am also afraid that I may fail in some way. Failure here is not the same as in America. If I fail here I not only affect myself but I affect an entire community that is relying on me to help them become better. However, I am excited for that challenge. All I have to do is try my best. I've done that before so I guess thats not so new.

I know I jammed a lot into one blog and it may seem a bit frayed but know that this is just what its like. I am trying to organize my thoughts to reflect on our experiences but it's really just too much sometimes. I'm realizing that that's okay. It's okay to be confused, hopeful, terrified, and exhilarated all at the same time. I know I am feeling much more than that but I won't bore you with vocabulary words that are supposed to explain our lives but will never come close. All I can do is give the story little by little or "kas ba kas" as we now say. So please, bare with us.