Today's theme is kindness

Today is market day in my town. Market day is always a little overwhelming, there are more people in town than on any other day and I have to sort of gear up mentally before I leave the house, not knowing how much attention I'm going to get. More than nine times out of ten the attention I get is friendly attention, not bad at all, but it can be overwhelming none the less. I watch the local women as they go about their business, no one paying them any attention but me, and I envy them. Only when I return to the US will I be able to move about my daily life unnoticed. Here I know what it feels like to be a celebrity, except no one is taking pictures and selling them to the tabloids, thank heavens!

I stopped at my neighborhood suk on the way to the market, the one I always go to for things like matches, rice, spaghetti, laundry soap, and mobile cards (phone minutes), etc.  When I first moved to town I got a good vibe from this particular suk and the shop owner so I like to give them my business. While I was buying a kilo of rice and a mobile card, a woman also came up to the suk to buy something. I've never met her before but I greeted her and she asked me if I was going to the market. I said I was and she very kindly said in Afaan Oromo that we should go together. The market is on the other end of town so I was happy to have someone to walk with. I was thinking that once we got to the market we would probably part ways as we might be interested in buying different things. But instead she asked me what I wanted to buy and went with me to be sure I found what I was looking for. She would ask in Amharic if there were other things I needed - she stuck with me until I had everything! After she finished helping me then we parted ways and she went on to buy the things she needed. The kindness of strangers. But now we're not strangers anymore.

A new neighbor moved into our compound a few weeks ago. She also happens to be a new employee at the health center and is a very sweet young woman. Her parents had come to visit from their hometown today and this afternoon she invited me over to meet them. Her father was interested to learn about me and I tried to explain myself as best as I could with my limited language. After only chatting for a few minutes he basically welcomed into their family, saying that I should come and visit them and when I do they would treat me as their daughter. It is that Ethiopian generosity and hospitality that I've come to expect but I think he also recognized that I'm far away from my family and was offering to be a surrogate of sorts. His was a heart cracked wide open, something to aspire to. Again, such kindness.

Makta, the five year old neighbor boy, likes to stop into my room every so often. Sometimes he'll be watching cartoons next door and when he gets bored with that he'll come over or he'll be running around, playing outside and when he needs a break he'll stop in. He comes in, rolls around on the floor a little bit, calls my name as he points out things he finds interesting, before too long he's bored, and he's off to the next thing. Today as he stepped out of my room, he turned right back around and called my name as he handed me the tiniest flower that he had just found amongst the weeds near my doorstep. In a flash he was off playing in the yard, as I'm left standing in the doorway holding this tiny flower, marveling at the sweetness of such a simple gesture. 

What a day - so many acts of kindness. I'm feeling thankful for all the kind people in my life and feeling inspired to spread more kindness too.  

Love from Ethiopia! 

An Ethiopian Wedding

This past weekend I was invited to the wedding celebration of my landlord's niece. The day before the wedding, family members started to arrive from miles around - brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins - there was a lot of activity in our compound which reminded me of my family gatherings and made me miss home. Big families are the norm here and it was just like when my big family gets together back home. 

On the day of the event I didn't really know what to expect but decided, like everything here, that I would just go with the flow. The landlady had checked with me a number of times to make sure that I was planning on going, so I knew she wouldn't leave me behind! When it came time to go, Gosaa, my 12yo buddy basically yelled at me, "Angela! Haa deemnu!" (Let's go!) It was said in a very commanding tone and with urgency even though there isn't actually any urgency about it. (We didn't leave for another 20 minutes.) It made me laugh to myself, thinking of this child yelling at me with such authority; at the same time bringing me comfort, making me feel like part of the family.

I think walking across the village to the party with Gosaa was my favorite part of the whole day. In anticipation of the special occasion the children had been taken shopping for new clothes in the nearby town a few days before. So Gosaa was very proudly sporting a new pair of jeans (which will be too short by the end of the month already, I'm sure), a new jacket (with his hands in the pockets), a pair of his dad's dress shoes (too big), and sunglasses. Even though it's sunny here everyday, no one wears sunglasses. They were purely a fashion statement. He always walks so confidently and deliberately, with a long stride. To see him walking it's like he's all legs. It was a sight to behold. He's one of the coolest kids I know!

Weddings are an opportunity to bring the community together and because it's a rural village the whole community is invited. And the community contributes to the event - supplies such as benches and dishes and party tents are shared. It is a collective effort. Neighbors, family and friends contribute food and beverages, including alcohol, as this was an Orthodox wedding so it is allowed. And everyone gives the gift of money, even if it's a modest amount. 

When I first arrived I was made to eat, of course! There was a large tent set up next to the home of the bride's family - in the middle of the main road through town - apparently not a problem. Many people were seated inside, socializing and enjoying lunch, which consisted of two different kinds of meat stew with injera. I was relieved to see some familiar faces. There were mostly new faces, however, guests from neighboring towns, who were curious about my presence. I felt a bit awkward as my language skills are not at the level where I can really socialize in the local language. It is common to be told "tapadhu" a command which means "play" but in this context means "talk playfully" or "haasa'i" a command which means "chat". It's a nice gesture, it's meant to encourage conversation and be inclusive, but it mostly just leaves me feeling frustrated - of course I would like to chat with you, and I would if I had the language skills, but I don't. And the truth is I've never been the type of person who likes being told what to do! 

I knew there were women working somewhere around the premises and I wanted to be helping them. Somehow my landlord read my mind and came to the rescue! He took me by the hand and walked me into the family's compound to another area where tents were set up with a makeshift kitchen. Of course I wasn't allowed to help but he wanted to show me what was happening behind the scenes. 

A woman tends an enormous pot of meat stew. 

A room full of huge plastic barrels, some containing farso - homemade beer, some containing kenito - a homemade soft drink. Homemade hard liquor, called araki, was also served. 

After the tour my landlord found me a seat between two English speakers. Very kind of him. 

Finally the bride and groom arrived in a small caravan with horns honking. The guests gathered outside to greet them - some women started singing together accompanied by a drum with clapping and ululating and shoulder dancing (eskista). When they would do the shoulder dance it was like the women in the center of the group were having a dance off, competing to see who was the best! They would take it very seriously then eventually erupt into laughter. The men also had their own celebratory song.

The women singing and dancing. 

After this it was time to eat again and socialize some more. As dusk fell I walked home with the neighbor kids. Sometimes the celebrations continue for many more days and in this case they did. There was a sheep that was presented upon the bride and groom's arrival that would be the next day's lunch. I could be wrong but he seemed to know his fate. 

Love from Ethiopia!

Peace begins with you and me

It feels strange to be far away from my home (America, Minnesota, St. Paul) when so much is happening there. Living in a rural village in Ethiopia I could easily choose to be shut off from current events around the world, but I've always been the type of person who wants to know what's going on even if it's painful. I have a few news apps on my phone so when the network is functioning I'm able to read some news stories from America or elsewhere in the world. It is impossible to make sense of all the craziness. Feeling disconnected is one of the challenges of Peace Corps service that I struggle with the most.

"If they mean to have peace, let it begin here." - Sargent Shriver, the first Peace Corps Director

Here. H e r e. With me. With you. With 'us'. With 'them'. Wherever we happen to be. I don't believe that means putting a bandaid on things and moving on. I believe it means having the difficult and uncomfortable conversations; the ones that are meaningful and powerful because they are difficult and uncomfortable. It means slowing ourselves down, being strong enough to admit that we don't have all the answers, that we actually need each other in order to find solutions. To me it means embracing a willingness to see things from another's point of view - to open our eyes, minds and hearts wider. And wider still. We need to hear each other's voices which requires listening, paying attention. Can I listen and genuinely hear what you have to say? Am I willing to give my full attention? Am I willing to bear witness to your reality? And somehow, through it all, managing to find peace within ourselves as we examine hard truths about the way our society is set up, about things that we are taught to believe that we don't question, about pain that we perpetuate quite often unconsciously, about our role and responsibility in all of it.

"Peace requires the simple but powerful recognition that what we have in common as human beings is more important and crucial than what divides us." - Sargent Shriver

We are all different and yet we are all the same. It's not wrong to acknowledge our differences - we have our own cultures and traditions, unique experiences, thoughts, feelings, ways of being - sharing our differences is an opportunity to learn from each other. As an American living in Ethiopia for the past 7 months, I am intimately aware of my 'difference' and 'otherness'. But what I am struck by is the way that I am treated as the same. When the landlady prepares a plate of food for me, brings it to my room and tells me "nyaadhu" (eat!), when I'm walking past my neighbor's door and she calls out for me to come in and share buna (coffee) with her, when I'm walking down the street and a woman I don't even know calls out to welcome me into her home, when the neighbor boy calls my name 20+ times a day, everyday, to show me something that he finds interesting because he wants to share his world with me, when the staff at the health center invite me to join in their events and activities even though we don't fully share a common language - so I don't actually know what's going on - but yet I feel included. It certainly feels to me like they accept my differences *and* see my sameness. I have the same wants and needs; I'm just like them, only different. 

I wonder if minorities (or those who on the surface we might see as 'other') in America are made to feel the same way? Knowing the answer I am actually asking myself: how can I pay forward the gift that I've been given? 

"We are not separate beings, you and I 

We are different strands of the same being

You are me and I am you

and we are they and they are us

This is how we're meant to be,

each of us one

each of us all

You reach out across the void of Otherness to me

and you touch your own soul!"

- Leonard Peltier

I wonder how things would be different if all the energy that is spent in conflict, arguing, vilifying, spreading hate, and dividing ourselves was instead directed towards curiosity, exploration, reflection, and a genuine interest in finding common ground?

'It is possible.' Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

Sending love and peace from me to you... 

Across the country and back again

After three months at site our group of volunteers (G14) met together in Addis Ababa for a week of training. It felt great to reconnect with friends and share stories about our experiences thus far. It also felt great to reconnect with the outside world again with ample Internet access! It was a bit of a shock to be back in the big city but it didn't take long for me to get into the swing of things - hot showers, a comfortable bed, Thai food, Chinese food, Middle Eastern food, ice cream, oh how I've missed you so! During training we learned more about project ideas, changes within our programs, and reporting our work. I will meet with some of our group again in 3 months for another training and the entire group again in 9 months. 

After 'reconnect' some of us decided to travel together to Bahir Dar in the northern part of the country. Bahir Dar is in the Amhara region so Amharic is primarily spoken there. It's a major city with a bit of a tourism industry because it is on Lake Tana, the largest lake in Ethiopia, and near to Blue Nile Falls.

We took a boat ride across the lake to a peninsula where there are a few Ethiopian Orthodox monasteries. The oldest one was built in the 14th century with paintings from the 18th century. It was interesting to learn a bit more about the religion. There were many women and children selling crosses, jewelry and religious artwork along the walk. 

Near the mouth of the Blue Nile River on Lake Tana. 

The next day we took a long, bumpy ride out to the falls. I enjoyed the drive through the countryside, it was interesting to observe the different styles of dress and adornment compared to my region. It was surprising to see many men wearing shorts there but it makes sense as it is much warmer than my part of the country. Some women there had more obvious facial tattooing; women in my region also have such adornments but more discreet. It was a beautiful hike to the falls. We basically made a loop from one side of the river to the other and then took a short boat ride across the river back to our minibus. 

The falls were very powerful when we were there. We were lucky, they are not always so impressive. 

The Blue Nile River joins up with the White Nile in Sudan and eventually becomes the Nile. 

After our sweaty, muddy hike we found a resort hotel where we could pay to use the pool and shower (the much cheaper hotel we were staying at rarely had running water) and a three course meal was included. Dessert was a brownie that was the real deal. You can find cake in every bigger town in Ethiopia but every time they look more beautiful than they taste. It's the never the cake I want it to be. But this brownie, this brownie was legit. 

On my way back to site I stopped in Hawassa, also a lake town but in the Southern Nations region. Here a variety of local languages are spoken. Some people speak Afaan Oromo because it borders the Oromia region so I started to feel a little more at 'home'. It happened to be the New Year celebration for the Sidama people who live in and around Hawassa. There were a lot of celebrations around town and many people were out and about wearing their traditional clothes for the occasion. 

When I finally made it to the last stretch of my journey back to site and got on the bus to my neck of the woods it felt like a relief. The bus was full of laughter and smiles for the Ferenji who was joining them and her earnest attempt to speak their language. Even though my Afaan Oromo is terrible they tell me it's terrific. These are my people.

After being gone for nearly two weeks it was great to see the smiling faces of my compound again. Wasilee, the 9 yr old neighbor girl, had a surprisingly long, strong hug for me; Makta, the 5 yr old boy, grew taller I swear; and Gosaa, the 11 yr old boy, greeted me at my door with his signature smile delivering a bowl full of marqa (porridge) from his mom. It's good to be back. 

Love from Ethiopia!