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! 

The sun rises and sets

I am settling into the rhythm of life here; things feel ordinary, normal. What you would expect anywhere in the world - older siblings are annoyed by their younger siblings and do things to make them cry, kids are curious and have to touch everything, families watch TV together in the evenings, coworkers don't always see eye to eye but have to manage to find a way to work things out, old friends are joyful when they're reunited and sad when it's time to part ways. The sun rises and sets.

The neighbor kids have been coming over more, especially the 5 year old since he's too young for school so he's always home. I usually keep the door open when I'm home to let the sunlight and fresh air in but it's interpreted as a 'welcome, come on in!' sign. As I'm preparing my breakfast my heart sinks a little when I see him slinking in the door as he slips off his shoes, I was planning to start my morning quietly and peacefully before interacting with the world. But he flashes his big smile and says, "Angelo! something, something, something" (I still don't know 95% of what he says) and how quickly my feelings change from disappointment to happiness that he's come to join me. He still has to grow into his ears which adds to the cuteness factor. Sometimes he wants to sweep my floor (my little hand held broom and dustpan is pretty cool), can't argue with that! When he's done he says, 'amma shararitti hin jiru' which means now there are no spiders. Oh if that were true! 

His older brother is about 12 years old and is super helpful and kind. On the weekends he's usually responsible for tending the animals, taking them out to pasture. One day he brought me back a handful of pea pods, what a nice surprise! It was only about four spoonfuls of cooked peas but, fresh peas, what a treat! 

The landlady is still overfeeding me and as hard as I tried to resist, she's now got me eating meat. One day she brought me a plate of raw lamb meat with a side of mitmita, a delicious spicy powder mixture for dipping meat into. As soon as I saw it I knew I was meant to eat it as is, like, raw. Yeah, raw. It's a special treat. I politely declined and thankfully she accepted. Well about 10 minutes later the landlord calls for me and tells me to come to their home. He's a really nice man but has a commanding presence, when he tells you to do something you do it. I knew I was about to be presented with another plate of raw meat. The other neighbors in our compound had been invited over as well to share in the feast. Even though they also wanted me to try it I was thankful they were there because they could help translate that I appreciated the generosity but I really couldn't eat it. I think the only thing that saved me was that I had just recovered from food poisoning a few days before so it was understood that my stomach might be weak. They decided that I would eat it cooked. The landlady was preparing tibs - chopped up pieces of lamb meat cooked with rosemary served on a plate of injera which you then dip in the mitmita and eat. I had no choice but to eat! It was delicious of course, I just prefer to eat vegetables. The meal was accompanied by Ethiopian-made ouzo. Luckily the landlady found the smallest shot glass for me and I was only given a splash which was plenty, it was very strong! Since then she has also brought over doro wat, a traditional chicken stew made with a spicy sauce and hard boiled eggs. It was only after I ate it that I realized the two hens and rooster were absent from the compound. Who did I eat? The especially vocal rooster? The curious black hen that almost wandered into my room? The brown hen that I almost scared the life out of when I unknowingly threw my dishwater into the plants where she was pecking around? We'll never know. 

The 'traffic' I deal with on my evening commute.

Love from Ethiopia!

The strange and the ordinary

I have a pretty sturdy plastic tarp that is nailed along all of the walls to act as the ceiling of my room (standard procedure). The actual roof of my home is corrugated metal in an inverted V shape. There's a gap of a few feet between my tarp ceiling and the metal roof above it. I'm sure there's a plethora of spiders and bugs that live in that space but let's not think about that. Well late one afternoon as I was sitting in my room I had another visitor in that space. Out of nowhere I hear some critter fall or jump onto the tarp and I can hear and see the impression of its feet pressing down on the tarp as it moves around. I can see it walking around in my ceiling! I'm wondering if it's going to break through the tarp and then I'm going to have to deal with whatever it is being in my room with me. At first I thought it was a bird that had flown in between the space of the wall and the roof. But then I can see that there is the weight of four little feet pushing down as it walks around. It's walking this way and that way like no big deal all the while I'm thinking if this tarp breaks all sorts of bugs and dust and dirt is going to fall in and gross me out. I tried making some noises to encourage it to move along, you know find his way out, but that made no difference. It turns out it was a cat! I figured it out because he pounced on something, like cats do, and right after that he jumped out. I was relieved that it was gone and that it wasn't a giant rat or something. I hope he doesn't make it a habit. 

The neighbor boy has been calling me Angelo. I haven't bothered to correct him because he always has a smile for me and the way he says it he kinda draws out the 'o' so it sounds kinda cute. His mother will send him over to invite me to drink coffee. He comes to my door, pops his head in with a smile on his face and says "Angelooo, buna dhugi!" It's darling. But only when he does it. I'm still Angela to the rest of you! 

A horse cart and the 'backyard' of my town. 

There is a rose bush that has been blooming steadily lately near my front door. It's beautiful, the first time I saw it blooming it took my breath away. A rose! A random act of beauty! How bold! And the roses are so fragrant, really what roses are supposed to smell like, times ten. Whenever they catch my attention I stop to smell them. One day I was walking back to my room after drinking coffee with the other women in the compound when I stopped to smell the rose. The women said, incredulously, "Angela, why are you smelling the flower?!" Um, because it smells good! Really, smell it! It's beautiful! I was only able to convince the neighbor girl to smell the roses with me. She agreed it was nice but wasn't nearly as captivated as me. Oh well.

Sorry this picture isn't scratch and sniff. 

I am also a perplexing creature because I didn't buy three kilos of sugar when I had the chance. Apparently one of the suks in town gets sugar every once and while and divides it into three kilo bags. It's a good price and people are excited because it's a good amount and I guess sugar isn't readily available in this area. In general, Ethiopians love their sugar - buna and shay (tea) always come with a hefty dose of sugar. I'll drink it however it's served but I'm not really in to adding sugar to things myself. Dessert isn't a thing here so I guess people get their sugar fix in their beverages. Almost every woman I know has asked me if I bought the three kilos of sugar and when I tell them 'no', they just look at me in disbelief. From their point of view a person needs to buy sugar and I think they want to be sure that I have what I need, but I'm like what am I going to do with three kilos of sugar?! If I had an oven and I could bake brownies and cookies and pies, than sure. It's kinda difficult to explain that I don't want or need sugar, that I enjoy my tea without adding sugar. At best I've gotten confused looks and non-convincing "okay's". I would rather eat chocolate as my source of sugar! 

It can get pretty chilly in my town. Some nights it's rather cold and there have been a few rainy days where it has stayed cold all day. I have a nice pair of really cozy socks that have been a lifesaver. I wear them to bed every night. I think I learned at one point that sleeping in a cold room adds a few years to a person's life. So I've got that going for me. I brought a pair of slippers which was wise, the floor in my room is always cold. On the cold rainy days I've worn my cozy socks and slippers together. In other areas of Ethiopia it's much hotter, I guess I would prefer being cold every now and again rather than hot and sweaty everyday. 

And finally, after washing two full size bedsheets by hand I will never complain about doing the laundry again when it means using a washing machine. Perspective. 

A beautiful sunny sky near the health center. 

Love from Ethiopia! 

I'll be fat soon, thanks to the landlady

Marqaa is a special kind of porridge made from barley (most people in my area are farmers and they primarily grow wheat (qamadii) and barley (garbuu)). It's usually made for special occasions or celebrations (or when you're just sitting in your room working on your 'Community Needs Assessment' the landlady might bring some over). It's kind of gelatinous with a little divot made in the middle to hold milk (annan), butter (dhadha) or honey (damma) for dipping the marqaa into. I had it once before with honey in the middle, tasty. My landlady brought me a bowl of it with melted butter in the middle to which she added a spoonful of berbere. The butter here is the real deal, straight from the source, it has a strong flavor so it was a very rich dish. Berbere is a red chili powder commonly used here, like, in everything! It's made by drying red chili peppers in the sun and grinding it with other herbs and spices that have also been sun dried. When I saw my neighbor making her batch in preparation for Fasika (Easter) it included rosemary and cinnamon among other things I didn't recognize. She offered to give me some but I was already given a bag by my host mother as I was packing up to leave their house - and the amount she gave me is more than I'll probably use in 2 years! Additionally, I tried to return the little cup of extra berbere that you see in the picture but the landlady wouldn't accept it, she told me to keep it and use it when I'm cooking because it's good for my health. I'm not really in to spicy foods but I add a touch here and there because why not. 

This is what my landlady brought me around lunchtime one day. To be fair, the electricity was out and she knows I only have an electric stove so I think she wanted to be sure I didn't starve. I'm in no danger of starving. Even without electricity I managed to have a healthy breakfast of a banana with cold oatmeal, complete with some nuts from a care package. The longest the electricity has been out is two days and that time I did start to get a little desperate. On day two I was set on buying a charcoal stove but then the electricity returned so I never got around to it. Anyway, what you see pictured is two kinds of bread (dabo), a cup of coffee with milk (buna fi annan), and what looks like chocolate ice cream or peanut butter ice cream or cafe mocha ice cream (I'm dreaming of ice cream!) is actually braatto. Braatto is barley flour mixed with butter, definitely not ice cream, but surprisingly pretty tasty if you don't think about the fact that you're eating straight up butter and flour. It's a special treat and it truly is good in small doses. One of the pieces of bread is a chewy variety with butter and berbere slathered on top and the other is more dry and crumbly, not bad with peanut butter, jam or Nutella. Have I mentioned that my landlady is one of the nicest people on the planet? 

Leading up to Fasika, orthodox Christians had been fasting for about two months, meaning no animal products - no meat, eggs, milk, butter, etc. On Fasika they broke the fast and prepared and shared many meaty dishes. I was out of town for the weekend so I missed the slaughter and feast of two chickens and an ox - thank goodness, I do not have the stomach for that! While I'm not interested in eating meat, the landlord's family has a few cows so I do enjoy the fresh milk and butter now that fasting is over. 

A particularly vocal rooster who I thought had been eaten, a casualty of Fasika, because I hadn't seen or more accurately heard him all week. But alas, he was back this morning, guess he was just on vacation. If we're being honest, you do cockadoodle too much.

Love from Ethiopia!