St. Gabriel's Day Feast

What a day. Today is an Ethiopian religious holiday, St. Gabriel's day, which meant lots of people in traditional clothing milling about on the streets, that the Telecommunications company was closed (and Kristen therefore couldn't replace her stolen cell phone SIM card as planned, though we didn't know that until we had walked all the way out there, of course, argh), and that we had more than one reason to celebrate today.

 

A number of folks from nearby towns had come into Bahir Dar for the weekend to celebrate Christmas and New Year's (and, as it turns out, St. Gabriel's...), and celebrate we did. We prepared a *feast*, which included fried chicken, made from scratch. From scratch meaning from _live_ chickens. [Disclaimer: if you are squeamish or vegetarian, or both, this post may not be for you].

 

We went to the market (four of us: Levi, Beth, Christie, and I), and bought 2 chickens (30 birr, or about $3, each), and Levi carried them home, tied together with a bit of cloth, upside down, in one hand. We also bought a huge aluminum pot for scalding the feathers off of them, as per Peace Corps cookbook instructions, and an enormous bottle of oil, along with some other handy items. Took a motorcycle taxi home; the driver saw absolutely no problem with cramming the 4 of us into the 3-person taxi, or with the fact that we were carrying this squawking cargo.

 

Slaughtering chickens is an experience I am glad to have had, and hope not to have to take any part in again anytime soon. We were fairly inept about the whole process, but succeeded, at least marginally, in the long run. I'll try to upload some pictures, eventually (the event was well documented, and with good reason--certainly among the more dramatic activities of life in Ethiopia thus far...). Levi was responsible for the killing, which was culturally appropriate, as only men do the actual slaughtering here.

 

The precise moment of killing a chicken is entirely unpleasant, in a way I couldn't have predicted. Blood spurting everywhere, pained clucking until the last moment, wild death throes. Ours didn't really "run around" like chickens with their heads cut off, but there was still some violent wing flapping going on after their heads were already on the ground. Levi's pants and shirt were covered in blood--looked like he had just been in some sort of terrible knife fight. Christie kept saying "it's only nerves, he's already gone," as a mantra as they were flapping around, and we all had to repeat it to keep being able to face what was happening. I only had one major flip-out, when blood spattered onto my glasses, it was more than I could take and I had to run to wash my face. Beth (a nurse) was quite clinical about the whole matter, at least once they were actually dead, and in fact, I was proud of all four of us for our bravery about the whole thing.

 

Even once the chickens were plucked (no mean feat in itself...), we realized that we'd never actually prepared a whole chicken. None of us, in fact, had any idea how to skin or section a chicken. And the fact that we were working on the carcasses next to a plastic bucket filled with chicken heads, wings, feathers, and plenty of blood/water soup didn't make the task any easier. Nor did a kitten trying frantically to get at the meat.  All in all it took us almost 2 hours to slaughter, pluck, cut-up, and fry the meat. And these two full chickens made a whopping 10 pieces of fried chicken (granted, some of the pieces were big, because we couldn't figure out how to separate them to make them any smaller).

 

This whole time, I was picturing a pack of boneless skinless chicken breasts for sale at ANY grocery store in America, and was thinking (a) about how these chickens probably had a nicer life (and perhaps even a nicer death, unfortunately enough), than any of the ones in American groceries, (b) how BIG American chicken breasts are--hormones? (c) how either appreciative and/or disgusted I am going to be about being able to buy those chicken breasts when I get back to the states. I feel like I really understood, for the first time, what it really means to kill an animal in order to eat it. It's terrible. And at the same time manageable, just kind of feels like a part of life. I was both appalled and impressed at my own ability to take part in killing and eating a chicken. So it gave me yet another something to think about. Getting and preparing food, even cleaning up after eating, takes so much more effort here (and yet is so very much cheaper...we're given 600 birr per month--just over $60--for food, which is, frankly, exorbitant).

 

The rest of the dinner was much easier to prepare (and equally delicious), though it was decidedly an odd selection (including many goodies sent from families and friends, which were much appreciated. Even canned ham was happily consumed--this should tell you something about our state of mind). It was also wonderful to get to see everyone who came in for the weekend; though it has only been a couple of weeks since we left training, I was already missing these folks, who I'd grown so close to over the past couple of months.

Starting Work, Slowly.

I've been thinking a lot about how different HIV is here than what I saw in the US when I was working at the AIDS Health Project. I spent the morning in the Opportunistic Infections clinic at the major referral hospital (that is, the highest level of care available in Ethiopia, other than some specialty clinics and labs in Addis) here in Bahir Dar. This hospital is where I'll probably be spending most of my time for the next two years.

 

I kept thinking about one evening when I was co-facilitating the HIV+ Drop-In Group back in San Francisco and we spent almost half of the group time focused on one man's fears about starting ART. I don't mean to say in any way that I think that that evening was unimportant. I think that it meant a lot to him and to the rest of the group; his fears were absolutely real, and I think that it's fabulous that we had the time and energy--the luxury, I guess--to discuss them. Today we were seeing patients with acute PCP pneumonia, with Herpes Zoster rashes all over their faces, with leprosy, with CD4 counts of 6 (normal is 1000). I suppose that my perception of AIDS in the US might be different if I had worked on the wards at SF General, or if I had been in the Bronx, or in the inner city of any major American city, but I was just so struck today by the differences in the immediate needs of these people. Mental health is (barely) an afterthought in HIV care (in healthcare generally, I suppose) here; there's one page on the 8 page intake form for starting HIV care that explores a few "social" issues (like family support, mental status, etc).

 

Each patient had between 3 and 10 minutes with the doctor this morning. This doc sees 60-70 patients a day. And when I told him that this seemed like a very busy day, he told me that it's actually much better since they've added another physician--he used to see up to 110 patients a day. It's hard to fathom doing that day after day after day. The burnout must be incredible. It also must be incredibly frustrating as a well-trained physician, to not have every lab test, diagnostic tool, and medication you might want available at your fingertips. There was a man today in whom the doctor suspected deep vein thrombosis, but without a doppler ultrasound, a CT scan, or an MRI, he's out of luck in terms of getting a firm diagnosis. He said that he'll send some blood tests to Addis, and then potentially start treatment with a bloodthinner, but only if the patient can afford it (500 birr, or about $50, which is pretty prohibitively expensive in a place where the average monthly salary is not even quite that high). It makes sense why there are now more Ethiopian doctors working in Chicago than there are in the whole country of Ethiopia. (Which in turn contributes to the problems with the overburdened health system here...)

 

All of this means that I'm feeling a little bit overwhelmed about how exactly I'm going to be able to find a place in all of this, how anything I can possibly do here will have any effect. There are an awful lot of problems. I'm feeling a bit at sea about how to begin confronting any little piece of it. One thing is certain though. I feel really lucky to be working with the people at ITECH and at the hospital here; everyone seems incredibly dedicated, smart, and thoughtful.

 

In short, I guess that I'm beginning to see the challenges of being in the Peace Corps, of trying to figure out a way to make your work feel meaningful and to feel as though you're making a positive difference in someone's life. There's a lot of work ahead of me. I'm excited and simultaneously terrified about jumping into it. I keep trying to tell myself that this is week 2, and that I have some time to figure these things out.

 

All in all, though, I'm doing fine. Christmas was nice; got the day off after all, since ITECH is US-funded, despite "American Christmas" not being an Ethiopian Federal holiday (we'll get the day off for Ethiopian Christmas on January 6). Steph was in town from her site, about an hour away from Bahir Dar, and she and the three of us here (Beth, Levi, and I) made a fantastic, if non-traditional, Christmas dinner of hummus, chicken noodle soup (sent in a package from the US), and no-bake cookies. We also had a nice time singing Christmas carols with a group of British, Swiss, and German relief-workers from Northern Uganda and Sudan who were in town vacationing, and went on a long walk by the lake. I also bought myself a fabulous Christmas present--a new, teal bike called the Viva "Sport Geometry."

 

Actually, the names of products here (and menu items) is one of my favorite amusements. There's another brand of bike called the "Flying Pigeon." A popular restaurant dish is "Shiro Feces" (ground chick peas and spices). We saw a bag of "Organic Testes," some unidentified white powder, at a grocery store. "Earaccuissene" items at one of our favorite restaurants (Eurocuisine? Maybe?) include "Roasted Lamp," "Hum and Chesses Burger," and "Peeper Stack." I could spend two years here fully occupied as a proofreader.

 

Thanks for all of the emails around Christmastime. Thinking of everyone especially this time of year. Hard to believe that 2008 is already almost here.   This year has disappeared without me realizing it--makes me wonder how quickly the next two will go. Happy New Year!

I'm home (?) in Bahir Dar

After 34 mosquito bites to Beth's face, a scraped shin and cut toe, getting locked out twice, and bruised hands (long stories all of them), we're little worse for the wear. Beginning to get set up…it's going to be a looooong process. Here's something I wrote yesterday morning and then promptly forgot at home and couldn't send. Hope you're all well…

 

December 17, 2007

 

First morning waking up in my new house in Bahir Dar. Beth and I both slept on new foam mattresses on the bedroom floor in the house (her house won't be ready until after the first of the year, so she'll be staying with me, which is actually a huge relief—it's so nice to be going through this with someone else).

 

It's been a busy busy week. We swore-in on Thursday afternoon, after a very long day (got up at 4:15 to catch a bus into Addis). My host mother cried when I left and made me promise to call every week. They gave me a going away gift of two plates, three spoons, one fork, one knife, and one cup; they're awfully worried about me living on my own. The small gifts I had collected for them went over well. Wind-up toys were a particular success, with everyone, not just the small kids. I was sad to leave them, but I'm also feeling ready to have my own space and to have a little more control over my own life.

 

Anyhow, the Swearing-In ceremony was lovely. The worldwide Director came in from Washington, as did the Africa Regional Director. The event was at the US Embassy, which is huge and gorgeous, as was not unexpected. My speech went well, and resulted in lots of people coming up to me at the reception and speaking to me as if I was fluent in Amharic. The Ambassador told me that I get to eat first when all 42 of us come back for dinner after three months.

 

We spent Friday in Addis, relaxing and shopping for things that are available only in the capital. Bought liquid dish soap, saran wrap and foil, resisted the temptation to spend $10 on a bottle of olive oil, and stocked up on a few "farenji" items. Then Beth and I went on an odyssey to find large wicker laundry baskets (which seemed immediately necessary, because we each had about 14 small bags to bring to Bahir Dar, which could be neatly stuffed into such a basket).

 

Now, neither of us knew the word for basket in Amharic, but we asked her language teacher where we should go to find them, thinking that they would be immediately obvious and that we could just point and bargain. We proudly got off of a minibus after have navigated our way halfway across the city and found the appointed location with no trouble. We walked down the road a little, looking for this basket store or market. Nothing. Beth called her teacher again, who wasn't too helpful, but who at least taught us how to ask where they might be. We went into a hotel to ask, and were directed somewhere "very close, maybe 5 minutes away" where there was a large market. We started walking, through twisty back streets and alleys, asking people every 200 yards or so where this Shola place was, until was finally found it, maybe half an hour later. The place looked promising—housewares everywhere. We wandered around forever, asking people again and again if they knew where these baskets were. Nope. Finally, we found a taxi and were about to give up. Beth made one last valiant attempt, asking the driver if he knew where to find the baskets. He said he did. We drove in a big circle, directly back to where we had started! The baskets were there, maybe 150 yards in the opposite direction from where we had gotten off of the minibus. We each bought one ($3), and asked the driver how much it would be to take us to the Ras Hotel, on Churchill Rd, near the Piazza and the National Theater. He told us 35 birr ($4), which seemed reasonable. Got in, and went a totally different direction than we had come, but thought, well, maybe it's a shortcut. Not a shortcut. We ended up on a dirt road, under construction, and he stopped the taxi. Here you are, he said, the Ras Ambo Hotel. Not on Churchill Rd, not near the Piazza. We tell him no, no, just the Ras Hotel, near Piazza, Churchill Rd. Oh, right right, he says, smacking a palm to his forehead.

 

We finally get to the hotel, relieved not to have been kidnapped, and as we pull up to the curb, he says "100 birr." What?! We offered him 50 because we had gone a long way out of the way, but he was obstinate, lowering the price little by little, trying to bargain with us, "okay, 90 birr, or even 80, but no less than 80." No! We all went into the hotel, where we drew quite a crowd, to have the receptionist translate/mediate. In the end he finally stormed off with the 50 birr, and we felt exhausted and defeated. But at least we had the baskets.

 

Saturday morning we all departed for our various locations on 5 Peace Corps contracted busses. Up at 4:45 again, to be ready to leave at 5:30. What time did we actually leave? 7:42. Oh my, a logistical nightmare. But we finally got loaded up and on our way. It was one of the longest days of my life. We dropped people off all along the way, which involved unloading luggage from the top of the bus, and also passed through the Blue Nile Gorge again, going about 20mph for 2 hours. We finally arrived safely in Bahir Dar at about 9:30pm, only to find that there were no rooms at the hotel we had intended to stay in. We found rooms, much more expensive, but beautiful, and collapsed.

 

Yesterday was spent trying to figure out how to furnish my house. Made three trips by motorcycle taxi to and from the market, including one trip back with involved me and Beth sitting with a roll of 10 meters of linoleum rolled up on our laps, a mattress stuffed behind our heads and another roped to the top of the taxi, and a can of kerosene wedged between my knees. The bajaj (motorcycle taxi) driver asked what we were doing here, then asked us to teach him about HIV (which we did, a little), and then gave us his name and number; "you will be my customers. I am Muslim. You know Muslim? It means I do not cheat. It is good."

 

Making boxed macaroni and cheese (sent from the US) on my new kerosene stove with my new pots, and eating it off of paper Christmas plates Beth received in a package was one of the best moments in Ethiopia thus far. It felt as though we were really doing this, like living here was actually going to be okay. Doing the dishes under a little spigot in my bathroom was less appealing—need to get some basins for that.

 

So here I am, beginning to set up a new life. There's a lot of work (a LOT) ahead of me in getting settled here, but I'm feeling largely optimistic about it. I don't know precisely when I'll start work (it's Monday morning and there's no way I'm going in to the office today—far too much to get done around the house first), or what precisely my work will consist of. Those are big, anxiety producing unknowns, but I'm sure that things will get worked out eventually. For now, I'm safe and have a place to sleep and a way to cook, and that's about all I could ask for.

 

p.s.--Check out the Peace Corps website in the next few days for a picture of all of us at Swearing-In!

I have a home!

Hello All,

Just wanted to update you all regarding my site assignment and new address. Training will be over in two weeks, and I'll be moving to Bahir Dar, in the North of Ethiopia. I've been in Bahir Dar this week for site visit (seeing my house, talking with my supervisor, learning my way around town), and it seems like it's going to be fabulous.

 

I'll be living by myself in a two-room house. I have a cold water shower and a porcelain squat toilet (at least I have running water!). I'm the only one on my compound, so I'm thinking about getting a dog, if rabies shots are available in town (not that I really need one, after last week's cat bite and two immune globulin shots...but it's Peace Corps policy).

 

My house is about 150m away from my work, which will be with ITECH (International Training and Education Center for HIV), which is actually based out of the University of Washington. I'll be working, it seems, mostly on linkage and referrals in the antiretroviral treatment program. I have no idea what that actually means on a day to day basis, but everyone in the HIV field here in Bahir Dar (we've met a lot of them this week) seems fantastic and really committed.

 

Here's my new address:

Anna Talman

PO Box 2153

Bahir Dar

Ethiopia.

 

Simple enough. Also check out my blog, at anniopia[dot]blogspot[dot]com (emails seem not to send if they have that address in them. May be related to the Ministry of Info's blocking of blogger. Hmmm.

 

So I'm feeling good about the next two years. Swearing in is on December 15th, and I've been selected to give a short speech in Amharic. Yikes! I think that it's likely to be quite the event, since we're the first group back in 10 years.

 

I'd like to upload some pictures, but there are several roadblocks. (1) my camera broke on day one in Ethiopia, so I've been using a friend's backup film camera, (2) uploading them to the internet might take a year with this connection, and (3) since blogger is blocked in ethiopia, I can't load them directly to my blog. I'll keep troubleshooting and figure *something* out.

 

Anyhow, just wanted to let you know that I'm doing well. I'm headed back to Addis Ababa from Bahir Dar at 4am tomorrow; should arrive by around 4pm, and then back to my host family on Sunday, and to training on Monday.

Amazing!!

This has really been quite the eventful week! I'm writing at an Internet cafe (much much faster than in Wolisso) in Bahir Dar. I've just come from seeing the source of the Blue Nile. And a hippo. Amazing!

 

So yes, I got my site assignment on Tuesday, afeter much anticipation and nervousness. I'll be living in Bahir Dar, in the Northern part of Ethiopia, on the shores of Lake Tana, the largest lake in Ethiopia. It's a pretty tropical town, with lots of flowers and palm trees (and hippos!). The town seems fabulous, as does my counterpart, who works for the international organization ITECH (International Training and Education Center for HIV), which does hospital based technical assistance. I'll be working on linkages and referrals here in Bahir Dar.

 

I'm feeling really good, and very excited about being here.

 

One strange thing: the evening after site announcements I got bitten by a cat in a freak accident (I stepped on its tail answering a call from my parents, whoops), and had to have two very painful shots. One involved a special trip to Addis Ababa (5 hours round trip!) just for the shot. But now I at least won't die of rabies. I guess that's fair.

 

We had a fabulous Thanksgiving dinner at our Country Director's beautiful home on Friday. Included: turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, pumpkin pie and chocolate chip mint ice cream imported from the States. It was truly an extravaganza, and will tide me over for a number of months to come.

 

The trip to Bahir Dar was, well, a trip. We arrived late at the bus station with tons of luggage (there are four of us travelling together; theree in B.D and one about an hour away), including 4 metal safes weighing at least 40 or 50 pounds a piece. We got to the bus station a little late, and amid the chaos (the place was literally teeming with people), it seemed that there would be no tickets to Bahir Dar that day. But we finagled some at last (through a middleman), and loaded the luggage (paying 50% of the ticket price as a luggage fee!), and finally took off. We all thought we would get to B.D. in a single day, but nooooo, 12 hours later, we stopped in a small town along the way and spent the night in a room which cost 25 birr ($2.50) for the night, and took off again at 5 this morning. It was a loooong, hot, dusty ride, part of which went through the Blue Nile gorge, which was beautiful (and scary steep in a big bus....). Kind of torturesome.

 

I've been told to write more about day to day details. I'll do some of that soon. There're folks waiting on the computer. One more detail: we had a roll stolen from our table by a MONKEY on Wednesday night. I'm truly in Africa. The Nile, hippos, and monkey theives. My oh my. More soon.

Updates

November 10, 2007

 Sorry that everything I've posted so far has been composed in such a rush; whenever I'm at the Internet "café" (really more of a shop—there is nothing in the way of food/drink…), there are 3 or 4 other farenjis (foreigners) waiting to use the computer, so I have to hurry to check email, news, and post in a rush. So now I'm borrowing my friend Beth's computer and taking a little time to actually think through some stories that I want to tell you.

 

Things are going well. We finished week five of training (of 10 total) this afternoon. Our midterm language test is on Monday. It's hard to believe both how quickly time is flying, and that we're still only halfway through training. I have a feeling, however, that the next 5 weeks are going to go even faster than the first five. We're going to Addis Ababa on a field trip next Saturday, and then the following week, we take off for site visits to our respective towns (still no more word on where that will be). Then there are only two more weeks left before swearing in on the 15 ^th of December (which sounds like it's going to be kind of a big deal—the Ambassador is holding a couple of events for us, and a number of Peace Corps officials from Washington are flying in).

 

Language learning is frustratingly slow, but when I actually think about it, it's clear that I am indeed making progress. The first time I went to buy laundry soap, I asked for it purely by charades. Yesterday, a couple of us bought some more, and were able not only to ask for it by name, but to bargain a bit as well. It's still going to be something to be thrown into a community on my own. I'm guessing that my workplace counterparts will probably speak fairly good English (secondary education and above is taught primarily in English), but folks I interact with on a daily basis are probably another story. It's definitely going to be a challenge.

 

There are many small adventures and funny stories. Language mistakes are some of the best. My host brother told me that Oromiffa (the regional language which half of us are learning) is a "very dangerous" language (he meant difficult). A friend of the family told me that he had seen the group of Peace Corps volunteers having lunch, and that one girl was "very freaky." When I asked him what he meant, he told me that she was hugging everyone and saying hello. Oh, right. Friendly. In language class we crack our teacher up about once a week by mispronouncing words so egregiously that they turn from innocent new vocab into swear words.

 

It's still slightly surreal that I'm here. I'm writing this right now sitting in a huge carved wooden chair on the patio of the Lodge here in town, which is a fabulous refuge, peaceful and beautiful. I can see monkeys playing in the trees nearby. It's sunny and breezy, and I have no responsibilities until Monday morning. It's hard to believe that *this* is my life right now, that I'm really here and really doing this. I'm sure that there will be many difficulties and challenges ahead (and training certainly hasn't been all sunshine and lollipops. There is a decided lack of lollipops, in fact), but for the moment, I'm feeling really good.

 

Thanks for all your emails and letters. It's amazing to be so far from home and yet so connected. The world really is turning into a smaller place, isn't it? I can't imagine what Peace Corps would have been like 40 years ago. I think, also, that we're a little bit spoiled here during training, with 24 hour electricity and hot springs--and corresponding hot showers--within walking distance! It will be interesting to see how that picture changes with heading out to our own sites…

 

More soon. I'm sending happy, Autumnal thoughts your way. Have some hot apple cider in my honor, if you're in that kind of climate.

 

November 12

I just finished my midterm; it went super smoothly. I have the rest of the day off to poke around town, do laundry, catch up on email and facebook (ha) and play a game or two of scrabble. What a luxury to have some free time! Talk to you soon.

A quick hello before curfew

It's already starting to be dusk and I need to be home before dark, but just wanted to tell you that I'm doing well.

Training continues apace. We had a great fieldtrip this weekend to a beautiful crater lake near our training site. It was about a 4km hike down to the lake, where we took a little canoe to a the island in the middle, where there is a small monastery. The whole place was wonderful, as was the peanut butter sandwich I had for lunch. It was lovely also to have a day off from training. On the way out, we took horses, which was fun.

On both Sunday and Monday, I went to Addis Ababa (a 2 hour van ride) for a day trip. Once was for a protestant wedding with my friend Beth's host family and some folks from their church (that trip was a little overwhelming--we stopped 9 times on the way back; including once for banana flavored gum and once to pray by the side of the road. We were exhausted!). On Monday we had a technical trip to talk with folks from Save the Children and CDC Ethiopia, which was fabulous. I also bought a poster for my house and a KitKat bar, which were wholeheartily appreciated.

I'm slowly learning Amharic, and am occasionally able to string together full sentences with my host family. Yesterday I learned from my friends' host family to make injera (the Ethiopian flat bread staple) and to milk a cow. Quite the evening!

I'm doing well. I miss all of you, and live for letters. I'll write you back for sure if I get one from you (hint hint).

More soon!

Testing 1, 2, 3

Hello all,

I apologize for the long interval between posts. It appears that blogspot has been blocked by the Ethiopian government for some weeks, so I'm trying a secret route posting via email. If this doesn't work well, I'll try to set up a livejournal or something else.

 

Things are going really well here. I've been in a small town about 100km away from Addis for the past couple of weeks, starting my training. We'll be here for the next 8 weeks, living with host families and learning the language and technical information about Ethiopia, HIV, and culture. It's been exhausting so far ( 5.5 days a weeks, 8am - 5pm), but instructive. And the other PCVs are phenomenal.

 

My host family is great. It's an older woman, widowed, who is mother to 8 children and a couple of nieces/nephews. There are currently 4 living at home, but others are in and out. We communicate in a patois of English, Amharic (which I am working hard to pick up, but which is decidedly difficult), and charades. The other PCVs and I joke that we could win the world championships at charades! We have 24 hour a day electricity and an outdoor tap, but no indoor plumbing. We watch alot of ETV, the national TV channel, and Uno and frisbee have both met with huge sucess.

 

We get a lot of attention on the street. Most of it is positive--the kids follow us around a lot. Most just wave or repeat again and again "what is your name?" or "how are you?" Some shout "you! you! you!" or "money!" We are definitely a curiousity. My host family is also perplexed by some things I do, but we're learning to get along and to communicate.

 

The big news of the day is that we were divided up by region today. I found out that I'll be moving to Amhara region after we swear in on October 15. That means that I'll continue learning Amharic language, rather than switching to Orominya. I feel good about it, and am looking forward to finding out in a month or so specifically where I'll be.

 

I received some mail yesterday at mail call. We LIVE for mail, and everyone was very jealous of my letters (and *package*, thanks to Reed!), and it made me super happy. So thanks to all who wrote. It looks like padded envelopes and packages take about  2 weeks, while letters take about 10 days or so. Not bad.

 

That's enough for now. Hope that you're all well. I miss you all and am thinking about you lots. Denaderu (goodnight)!

Here we go!!

Check it out--we made CNN.com! http://edition.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/africa/10/04/ethiopia.peacecorps.ap/

Staging in DC culminated tonight with a special event at the Ethiopian Embassy; the Ambassador, the Deputy Director of Peace Corps, and several other important folks came to wish us well. We all cleaned up in our best togs and enjoyed some excellent Ethiopian food and some inspiration from them and from returned volunteers. It feels really special to be a part of this first returning group. It's also a big responsibility, and I feel a tremendous sense of duty.

Staging has been a whirlwind. My brain is full! The other 42 trainees, however, are wonderful to a person, and I am incredibly lucky to be spending the next two years with these people.

More soon, from a medium-sized town outside of Addis Ababa, where we're set to train. We fly out tomorrow evening around 8:30 pm. It should be an adventure getting 43 people, each with 80lbs+ of luggage, to the airport!

My life [almost] fits in two bags

78.5 pounds. Plus a damn heavy carry-on. I whittled it down from the initial 105 that I thought I wanted to bring.

I'm still taking too much; I'm sure of it.

Officialities

I now have an official launch date for Peace Corps. I'll be leaving Denver the morning of October 2nd (that's only 10 days away!) for Washington DC, were we'll spend three or so days getting the how-not-to-hurt-yourself-and-or-others talk, turn in mounds of paperwork, and line up for (probably quite a few) shots. We also have an official dinner at the Ethiopian embassy, requiring semi-formal attire, which has limited use for the next two years other than for that one dinner.

Two weeks from today I'll be on a plane with 44 other volunteers, heading to Rome, then Addis Ababa. Yikes.

Meanwhile the packing and preparations continue apace. It seems as though everyone I've ever met wants to reconnect in the next couple of weeks before I take off for the wild blue yonder. I've never socialized this much in my life! It has been nice to get to catch up with folks a little bit, though. I had a fantastic trip to San Francisco earlier this month, and was in Kansas City and Chicago just last weekend, getting to see some family and some dear dear friends. I count myself as being very lucky that I have this many wonderful people in my life who I get to spend some time with before I leave.

School starts back up at the UW this coming week. It's a little odd not to be heading back. Hard also to believe that today is the first official day of Fall. It doesn't feel like it here in Denver, where it's probably 85° today. Probably won't feel much like it in Ethiopia, either, at 8 degrees North latitude.

Mail

Would it be weird to send myself mail? I might mail myself a book or some magazines now so that they'll arrive shortly after I get there.

You can too...hint hint :)

Anna Talman/PCT
US Peace Corps/Ethiopia
PO Box 7788
Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

Oh, the suspense

I'm feeling overwhelmed by the not-knowing, the suspense of not having all of the details in place about what my life is going to look like for the next two years. I don't have--and can't make--a plan. I suppose that this is good practice for the "staying flexible" that everyone talks about needing as a fundamental skill in the Peace Corps. But to be honest it's driving me a little batty now. Everyone around me is asking questions about what I'll be doing, where I'll be working, what language I'll be speaking, etc etc etc, and the answer of "I really don't know, honestly," is getting a little old.

I realized today just how very long it's been since I started this process. My Peace Corps dental record is a year old (I went to get a cleaning, oh joy of joys, today, and updated it). Looking back at my application, I realized that I started communicating with the Peace Corps in January 2006, nearly 22 months ago. Could the process get any more drawn out?

The goodbye process has also gotten drawn out. It doesn't feel real somehow, to say farewell to someone (even to dear dear friends) a full month before leaving. I wonder when it will all sink in that I'm actually going (and for so long!). Maybe once the bags begin to get packed.

Right, and then there's that. All the packing. Recent highlights from my list of things to acquire/find/organize before I leave:

* a vegetable peeler and a sharp paring knife
* a roll of duct tape and a roll of toilet paper
* shortwave radio
* approximately nine million gallons of sunscreen (three months' worth; how much does one presume that comes to for someone as pale as I am?)
* solar powered battery charger
* small crossword and math puzzle books; travel scrabble

Some trips to Target, REI, and the thrift store are probably in order. Perhaps that will keep me occupied for a little while; it has the semblance, at least, of feeling like I'm making some kind of plan.

Moving is the pits

Much as I'm devastatingly sad to be leaving Seattle, I'll be relieved to be done with the *moving* thing.

I am absolutely appalled at the amount of stuff I've accumulated over the past few years. This afternoon I found posters that I bought the summer before I went to college. Six years ago. Why I've been toting them around since, I'm not sure. Also, do I really need to haul a liter of book glue back to Denver with me? [apparently: I packed it.]

And where does all this dust come from?!

Also realized that I drive a two-door Echo. And that my dad and a bag of his are coming with us on this drive. It's just not all going to fit. I'm trying to think of it as being good practice for winnowing all my stuff down to 80 pounds for the next couple of years. But mostly I just think of it as being a terrible chore.

So it's real

My departure is official. I've started a blog.

Not only that, but I've started selling furniture on Craigslist. As is typical for me, I went directly from entirely ignoring the fact that I'm moving in a couple of weeks to full-fledged panic. I packed about a third of my room today, and will probably be rid of most of my furniture by the end of the week. Then comes the odd limbo of not having furniture, but not being ready to leave quite yet (I leave August 15th). Why do I always set myself up for that?

I have a feeling that leaving Seattle is going to make this whole Peace Corps thing come into sharp relief. The notion still hasn't entirely set in that I'll be living abroad, with who knows what kind of Internet and phone access (let alone electricity and water!), for two years. Yes, I've been abroad before, but in neat little chunks. A summer, a semester, a month. Two years. Wow. Two years ago I had just barely moved to San Francisco; it's amazing to think how much has changed in my life since then. I can only imagine that as much (probably more!) will have changed when I return in a couple of years.

So, here we go. I'll be updating periodically about departure preparations, and then whenever I can from Ethiopia. Here goes nothing!