A year?!

Happy Halloween! My pen-pals (elementary school students from North
Carolina) had lots of questions for me about what Halloween is like in
Ethiopia. They may be sad to learn the truth that there are no
costumes or trick or treating here. Though I can imagine that my
neighbor boys would be absolutely nutso for Halloween if they heard
about it.

We just passed the one year anniversary of being in Peace Corps.
Amazing. We finished our Mid-Service Conference (complete with lots of
interesting--and a few less interesting--presentations, a bowling
outing--human pinsetters!, physicals, a slightly-too-aggressive dental
cleaning, and an eye exam at an Ethiopian clinic that turned into a
join appointment--Kristen and I had our eyes looked at
simultaneously), and I've been hanging out in Addis for the week
taking advantage of some time to get stuff done in the capital. It's
been a nice break, but actually, for the first time in a while, I did
in fact feel sad about leaving Bahir Dar. I've been feeling *good*
there these days. Incredible! I'm making real friends, enjoying my
work, and trying to get started on the thesis project. I've finally
been able to cobble together about 10 different projects at I-TECH and
elsewhere, and have been (can you believe it?) _busy_ these days. So
it felt like bad timing to be away from home this week. It has been
lovely, though, to get to spend time with the other volunteers in a
big group. I haven't seen some of these guys since April. We're down
to 29 of us now (lost another one just last week), and so the group
feels particularly close knit (that's code for small...). Our Country
Director resigned last week, meaning that nearly every single member
of our original senior staff has turned over since we arrived. Ah, new
programs. We've been an experiment from the very start.

So things are looking and feeling up. I'm moving out of my house next
week into a beautiful new place, complete with indoor toilet and
(gasp!) kitchen counters. I'm hoping that my new landlord will have
arranged to turn on the water, fix the windows so that they actually
shut, and get the kitchen door to unlock in the week that I've been
gone. Too much to ask? Potentially. Anyhow, the place is great, and
I'm excited about the move. It's a bit farther from work and town, but
I'll no longer be living on a compound by myself, which I think will
be great news for my (currently struggling) Amharic. The family also
has two adorable little kids, Tsion, who is in second grade, and
Biniam, who's in first. So given how much I love kids, this is going
to be a perfect situation.

My parents will be coming to visit in just 8 weeks. I'm already
counting down. Excited to get to share Ethiopia with them, and also to
get to see a little corner of Tanzania. Many of the volunteers have
visitors over Christmas and New Years or are going home. It feels like
a really big milestone in our time here. I'm sure that the next year
is just going to fly. The new volunteers--Group Two--arrive on
December 4th. We're all excited to get to meet them. There's lots of
speculation about what this group will be like. If it's anything like
ours, then *unique* might be the best descriptor.

To an English Friend in Africa

A poem by Ben Okri, a Nigerian poet. Yes, it's a little cheesy, but
sometimes these things just speak to me, and I thought I'd share it
with you all. I particularly liked these lines: "Remember that all
things which happen/ To you are raw materials." I think that it's a
good mantra for when things don't go exactly the way that I would have
liked them to go, here and elsewhere...

_To an English Friend in Africa_

Be grateful for the freedom
To see other dreams.
Bless your loneliness as much as you drank
Of your former companionships,
All that you are experiencing now
Will become moods of future joys
So bless it all,
Do not think your way superior
To another's
Do not venture to judge
But see things with fresh and open eyes
But praise when you can
And when you can't, be silent.

Time is now a gift for you
A gift of freedom
To think and remember and understand
The ever perplexing past
And to recreate yourself anew
In order to transform time.

Live while you are alive.
Learn the ways of silence and wisdom
Learn to act, learn new speech
Learn to be what you are in the seed of your spirit and
Learn to free yourself from all the things
That have molded you
And which limit your secret and undiscovered road.

Remember that all things which happen
To you are raw materials
Endlessly fertile
Endlessly yielding of thoughts that could change your life
And go on doing so forever.

Never forget to pray and be thankful
For all things good or bad on the rich road:
For everything is changeable
So long as you live while you are alive.

Fear not, but be full of light and love;
Fear not, but be alert and receptive;
Fear not, but act decisively when you should;
Fear not, but know when to stop;
Fear not, for you are loved by me;
Fear not, for death is not the real terror,
But life—magically—is.

Be joyful in your silence
Be strong in your patience
Do not try to wrestle with the universe
But be sometimes like water or air
Sometimes like fire
And constant like the earth.

Live slowly, think slowly, for time is a mystery.
Never forget that love
Requires always that you be
The greatest person you are capable of being,
Self-regenerating and strong and gentle—
Your own star and hero.

Love demands the best in all of us
To always and in time overcome the worst
And lowest in our souls.
Love the world wisely.

It is love alone that is the greatest weapon
And the deepest and darkest secret.

So fear not, my friend.
The darkness is gentler than you think.
Be grateful for the manifold
Dreams of creation
And the many ways of the unnumbered peoples.

Be grateful for life as you live it.
And may a wonderful light
Always guide you on the unfolding road.

A bit of promotion

Just found the URL for the orphanage that I've been working with.
They're are really great organization, currently struggling to find
room for more and more children who are being given up for adoption.
When I arrived in Bahir Dar, they had about 12 live-in children and
maybe an additional 20 attending day care. They're up to 23 live-ins
and probably 60 total in day care. They're building an additional
center, hiring qualified staff (including a social worker, hurray!),
and trying really hard to do what's best for these kids. Grace Center
(or Centre, if you were to ask them) is one of the best stops on the
tour that I give to every visitor to Bahir Dar. It's a pretty special
place. Clean, bright, filled with happy, healthy babies. My visits
there (and the relationship I'm forming with the family that runs it)
have definitely helped me to keep my sanity, and it's doing SO much
more for the kids and the families it serves.

Here's the link: http://www.gracecentres.org/index.html. Take the
religious affiliation as you will--they're a pretty fabulous group
(and the religious element here in Bahir Dar is actually rather
minimal). I'm sure that they would appreciate your support.

It's the Little Things

It was Ethiopian New Year last week. I've never seen so many sheep and
goats being dragged, pushed, carted, or carried home for the
slaughter. People must be so sick of sheep leftovers after New Year's
Day. It was a festive week; very little work got done. Everyone was
out and about, dressed to the nines in their traditional clothing,
visiting friends and family. Little boys also carry around flowers or
drawings of flowers and exchange them for coins (kind of like trick or
treating).

My major accomplishment over the holiday was baking a pumpkin pie with
Marcy. Here is what we used: one pumpkin (7 birr, or about 80 US
cents), a graham cracker (actually Digestive Biscuit) crust,
disposable aluminum baking pans, and a Dutch oven. It took the greater
part of an afternoon, but with what results! How rewarding to have
started with nothing and to end up with something so great. We also
managed to play about three games of Scrabble while it was baking,
which was an added bonus.

Other recent achievements: forming a committee for my thesis, making a
toilet paper holder for my latrine (out of dental floss, duct tape,
and a stick, no less), finally getting all of my utility bills up to
date, and making hotel reservations for when my parents come to visit.
It's the little things.

I'm trying hard to reframe my attitude. It's easy to complain: about
lack of work, about cultural difficulties, about the rain or the sun
or the mud or the dust, about not being able to find cheese, about how
gosh-darn hard this language is. But I'm trying to start thinking a
little more positively, about what I do have, and what I have
accomplished. I think that this is especially important as I'm coming
up on the year mark of being here in Ethiopia. It would be easy to
feel like I've done nothing this year and like I've achieved very
little. But instead, I'm trying to focus on the fact that I'm
comfortable in this town that was completely foreign to me a year ago,
that I can have a basic friendly conversation with the little old lady
selling me salad greens, that I have friends and neighbors who I love,
and that I understand the HIV treatment system and can navigate the
hospital, which was once such a scary place. And, of course, the
knowledge that I can bake a delicious pumpkin pie without a pie tin or
an oven!

Also...

Check out Ruth's photos of her trip to Ethiopia and our trip to Uganda!

On Community

It’s incredible to finally feel like I belong, at least in some measure, in this place that is so very different from my home and what I’m familiar with. It’s surprising and heartening. Not to say that I feel totally comfortable or “at home” here all the time—far from it, still—but I at least feel like I’m making some steps in the right direction and being rewarded for them.

The Olympics have been a tremendous community-builder. People here are crazy for the track and field. I’ve been watching a lot of it at the small café on the corner of my block. The first Ethiopian gold medal race was one of the most memorable moments for me here so far. Kristen Straw was here visiting, and we were walking by with some groceries when we saw a huge crowd gathered at the café. We went in and it was 21 minutes into the 29 (ish) minute race. Tirunesh Dibaba, the Ethiopian, was holding steady in second place behind a Kenyan. She was keeping pace, but barely. The crowd was tense. At the very end, though, just a couple of seconds after the bell rang signaling the last lap, Tirunesh took off, and ended the race at last 10 meters in the lead. I’ve never seen spectators as excited about an athletic event—jumping up and down, hooting and cheering, high fives all around. Straw and I cheered along with them. What a moment of national pride. And then they showed the American who won bronze pulling the flag around her shoulders. Straw and I applauded and cheered. The whole bar—maybe 50 men (we were literally the only women in the place)—turned and stared at us. And then they stood up and cheered along with us. How incredible…to think that athletics can bring people together like that. Amazing.

We said goodbye this week to a dear friend and colleague, Dr. Happyson, who is ending his year-and-a-half long contract here in Ethiopia, to return to his family in the US (Zimbawean, he emigrated to California a few years ago). He’s been a great friend and mentor, and I’ll be sad to see him go. It was interesting, though, at the hospital, to realize how much a part of the work community he had become, even given the language barrier and the various ambiguities of working here. It gave me hope that when I leave in a year or so, people will feel the same way about saying goodbye to me as they have to him. It was also nice to see that Happyson felt sad on some level to be leaving here, despite his excitement about seeing his wife and daughters.

I’m also starting to feel more and more comfortable in my neighborhood. There’s a big group of pre-teen boys who have taken to me. They come over every day (sometimes more than once a day!), wanting to play soccer or hang out in my yard or chit-chat with me or practice English or just to say hello. Sometimes they’re enormously annoying, like when they knock on my gate at 7:15am and won’t leave me alone, but I’m also really growing to like them. And it’s nice to know that they’re looking out for me. (At all times! They always know whether I’m home or not). We have English class every weekend for half an hour or an hour, and this week I read out loud the three storybooks I have here. They were hanging on every word, and hanging off of me to look at the pictures. That’s something I could use more of if you’re interested in sending—picture books (about a 2nd grade level, with pictures, no figurative language, and lots of repetition). They needn’t be new, and I’ll just plan on leaving them with a school here when I go.

And there’s an incredibly sweet old lady who lives on the next block who has made a special effort to befriend me. It’s hard, because she speaks not a word of English, and my Amharic is still not great (and I probably have a very strong accent…), and she’s somewhat hard of hearing, but her face just lights up every time she sees me. She kisses each of my shoulders, which is a sign of great respect, and holds and pats my hands while talking to me. She’s asked a couple of times to come see my house, but I’ve always been on my way somewhere. This morning she came by at about 9am (thankfully I was already awake and dressed!) and I had her in for tea. Conversation was, predictably, a little tough, but it was clear that it was so special for her to be at my house. She lives alone, and I’m sure that even just the company was nice. I enjoyed spending time with her as well.

This whole day was one of the best so far in Ethiopia. After tea with my neighbor, I went to the market and had a surprisingly hassle-free shopping trip. Then went to my friend Tigist’s daughter’s 10th birthday party. Tigist works with me, and another three of the women I really like from work were there too, as well as some of Rewina’s friends and aunts and uncles and neighbors. What a lovely celebration! We all crammed in around the coffee table in their one-room house, and Tigist had prepared all sorts of special foods. We all brought little gifts for Rewina (I brought a set of Uno cards), and Rewina was so excited about all the attention. She had been in the hospital last week for pneumonia, and it was so lovely to see her well and happy again. She was dressed up in a traditional dress, and everyone got jazzed up about taking pictures. They also had some fireworks (sparklers and tiny miniature fountains for the top of the cake), which the kids (and some of the adults!) were half crazy for and half terrified of. We hung out all afternoon, drinking coffee and eating cake and fruit and playing Uno and taking photos of each other.

How great is it to have friends? It’s been almost 11 months since I got to Ethiopia, and I’m just beginning to make real friends. I’m feeling pretty proud of myself, and really happy about that development. I’m realizing how much being a part of a community means to me, especially in a place like Ethiopia where community is everything. I feel tremendously lucky to be finding—or making—little by little, a community of my own here.

On an unrelated note, thought that I should share that the mouse problem has been solved by my friendly neighborhood cat, who caught and ate the mouse (Or rat? Even though it was huge, I’d prefer to believe it was a mouse…) in front of me. There may have been a time in my life when that would have freaked me out. That time is not now: I was (a) fascinated, and (b) rooting for the cat. So nights are once again peaceful, without mice eating my tomatoes or scurrying under my bed. I did, however, find two small frogs in my living room tonight. Oh, rainy season.

One other thing. Today is the end of a fasting season for Orthodox Christians (they’ve been abstaining from meat, milk, animal products, and alcohol for 2.5 weeks). So, fittingly, everyone is gorging on dairy and meat today. On my way back from the market, I took a bajaj (motorcycle taxi, usually holds three or four people). Passengers: me, a young technical college student, and his very large, very vocal sheep, on its way to being lunch.

No, I haven't fallen off the face of the planet (quite...)

Yes, it has been more than six weeks since I've posted anything. Let me tell you what I've been up to...

I just arrived this morning from the most wonderful trip. My best friend Ruth came to visit, and we went together to Uganda to see another dear friend, Lauren. Ruth arrived in Ethiopia on July 11, and I have no idea where the past three weeks have gone. It was so lovely to spend time with these two amazing people, and we also managed to pack in quite a lot of activity. Photos to follow, I promise. Here's--in brief(ish)--what we did. I'm exhausted! And a bit bummed to be back to the "real" world after such a nice vacation.

I met Ruth at the airport late Friday night, and we spent the next rainy, cold day in Addis, checking out museums that I had never seen. We saw Lucy (Australopithecus afarensis) at the suprisingly poorly maintained National Museum, and learned about the ten-zillion Ethiopian cultures at the surprisingly lovely Ethnological Museum. Low point of the day? Me ruining a pair of Ruth's socks with my disgusting wet muddy smelly leather shoes.

We hired a car the next day to drive us up to Bahir Dar (not wanting to submit a jet-lagged friend to the misery of the minibus journey, but still wanting to see the countryside). We spent nearly a week in Bahir Dar, meeting all of my friends, impressing people with Ruth's height (she's 6'2"), making lots of delicious food (and having delicious food prepared for us, including--gasp--homemade pizza), having our hair done in cornrows (much to the delight of all of my neighbors, who watched the whole process), and checking out the local tourist sites. A highlight was definitely taking the local bus out to the Blue Nile Falls. We paid a third of what we would on an organized tour, and our luck was phenomenal--timing was perfect both ways, and on the bus we met a great newlywed Ethiopian couple (the wife had actually presented about psychosocial support for orphans during our Pre-Service Training) and a fabulous family from Addis, including a nine-year-old with the most flawless English I've experienced in Ethiopia ("I think there's going to be a stampede!" he shouted when we saw a herd of cows). We shared a great hiking/boat tour to the foot of the falls, which were, unfortunately, pretty anemic since the hydroelectric plant upstream is straining to produce enough electricity to cope with increasing energy demands. At any rate, time in B/D was great (and no rain, except for some spectacular thundershowers late at night, which was a treat).

Next spent some time in Gondar with the volunteers there. Saw the impressive castles and churches, and spent some nice time with people there. Then back to Addis, a morning spent being overwhelmed by the hugeness that is Merkato (it's reported to be the largest outdoor market in Africa, which is definitely saying something). Spent hours scouring the market for various odds and ends...jars for honey (we were convinced to buy 4 kilograms of raw honey, it was so tasty...We'll hope that US customs will allow it in...), gifts--including some pretty awesome shoes (wait for them, Andrew), etc. All in all, it was much less of a hassle than we had expected, and we came away from the morning quite pleased with the experience and proud of our bargaining prowess and anti-pickpocketing abilities. We both decided, however, that Addis might not be the greatest place to live; given the traffic, the pollution, the overcrowding, the hassle, the cold, and the rain in Addis, I much prefer Bahir Dar. It is nice to be in the city occasionally though--hit up some good foreign restaurants and actually get some productive work done (I had a couple of really great meeting regarding thesis work before Ruth arrived...more about that another time).

And then. UGANDA. We flew in last Friday and Lauren met us at the airport. I don't think I've ever crammed as much activity into a week as we did this past one. First spent three days at Murchison Falls National Park in the Northwest of the country. Downright amazing. The falls purportedly are the largest in the world, in terms of the amount of water going over them. I'd believe it. There was frothy white foam (apparently from minerals being scraped off of rocks upstream) trailing down the river for miles. We saw crocodiles, hippos, approximately a million different species of antelope, giraffes, elephants, warthogs, and some spectacular birds. Favorites included the Goliath Heron (huge!), the hideous Maribu Stork, the Red-Throated Bee-Eater, the Pied Kingfisher, and an enormous, odd-looking fellow called the Abyssinian Ground Hornbill.

We also got to spend lots of quality time together, and I especially enjoyed seeing Lauren's work. She's a Yale Med Student who's in Kampala for the summer doing research on lead poisoning among schoolkids on the outskirts of Kampala. She and another student are testing 150 kids and doing home visits, including GPS surveys of the homes' proximity to the dumping site, which they suspect is leaching heavy metals. Pretty neat work, and I'm so impressed at Lauren and Danny for their organization and competence in carrying out such a big project. The kids (age 6 and 7) were so so cute. One was quite vociforous about not wanting his blood tested. "Mzungu [aka farengi, aka white person] needles hurt too much!" he yelled. But then he got some stickers, a lollipop, and the opportunity to play with Ruth's camera and it turned out that the mzungus weren't so bad after all.

On Wednesday, we went on a day trip to Jinja, where Ruth and Lauren mountain biked and Danny and I went whitewater rafting on the Nile. Ironically, I didn't bike because I was too scared. Ironic, because this rafting was pretty much the most terrifying (and at the same time one of the most amazing) things I've ever done. We went off of an 8 foot waterfall. Got flipped five times. Sucked under water multiple multiple times. Went through a rapid known only as "The Bad Place." Danny somehow tricked me into going on the most adventuresome boat ("Team Extreme"), with a bunch of crazy people. It was wonderful. Terrifying. Totally, completely, entirely, paralyzingly terrifying, but also so incredibly fun. Lauren and Ruth biked to one of the rapids to take our photos and captured a pretty nice time lapse series of us paddling like crazy, then holding on for dear life, then flipping vertically up into the air, then being rescued by safety kayaks. Having survived it, it's both incredible and hilarious.

And then yesterday packed up and spent the night in Entebbe, near the airport, on the shores of Lake Victoria. I waded, probably inviting lots of schistosomaisis and other fun parasites in, but it was worth it. Sad goodbyes last night, and bleary-eyed ones this morning, as I stumbled out to the airport at three in the morning.

What a trip. I am so lucky to have had this opportunity, and so very very lucky to have these girls as friends. Such a treat.

And now I'm back in Addis, getting ready to head back tomorrow to Bahir Dar and to the realities of work and thesis preparations and life with a squat toilet and only cold water. I'm trying to let this trip be refreshing and re-energizing, rather than letting myself feel sad about it being over. I have all sorts of plans for renewed enthusiasm and motivation for work. Hoping that those will last.

I'll write more soon. Perhaps part of my leaf-turning-over can include a resolution to be a bit better about keeping in touch. Keep sending me snail mail, too. I'm actually pretty good(ish) about replying to that.