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!

Day to day life:

Forget needing an alarm clock, there are plenty of other noises to wake a person up around here. Of course you can always count on the roosters, but sometimes also the cows, donkeys and sheep, not to mention the pigeons (whose little feet on the corrugated metal roof sound more like Big Bird's feet) to let you know that they're awake and you might as well be awake too. Other early morning noises include: the Ethiopian Orthodox Church's call to prayer (a man singing over a loud speaker from the church occasionally accompanied by a musical instrument, for certain holidays it can be heard in the middle of the night too) and the buses and trucks bouncing down the road into town. The buses either have their music blaring or their horn honking on their way through town to alert people to the fact that, 'hey, the bus is here, this is your chance to catch it' which is great except when its before 7am, in my opinion. With any combination of these noises I'm usually awake sometime in the six o'clock hour. 

For those that are curious I usually wash my hair once a week and bathe once or twice a week but never on the same day because that's too much work. Seriously! I'm a person who loves a hot shower and feeling all squeaky clean. But with no running water (except at nicer hotels) it's been an adjustment. Bathing now means splashing a little cold water on myself and calling it good. Because it's cold I use remarkably little water.  It might come as a surprise that it actually feels satisfactory and even good, but it does! Of course if I had the option for a daily hot shower I'd take it. I wash my hands and face often and with the supply of wipes I brought from home and those sent to me (thank you!) I manage to feel as fresh as a daisy everyday. Hair washing day involves flipping my head upside down over my basin and pouring cold water over my head and shampooing and conditioning like usual. It's my indulgence. It takes a fair amount of water but it feels so great to have clean hair and to be able to wear my hair down and curly for a few days before pulling it back for the rest of the week. 

The water supply comes through a water pump in our compound randomly every few days. Usually the landlady or neighbor will tell me when it comes and I will fetch a bucketful to last me for a few days. If the water doesn't come then the landlord has a storage container that they keep mostly full that I can collect from. I have to manage my water supply to last for bathing, washes dishes, washing clothes, and making water for drinking and cooking. We also collect rainwater and I use that for washing my feet and shoes. I'm impressed with how little water I use but I'm sure I still use more than the average Ethiopian, they know how to use water efficiently. Washing clothes takes up the most water and its a lot of work to do it by hand so things get washed way less often than they would back home. I wash a few things every week and hang them out to dry - just a few things at a time is about as much as I enjoy doing. 

It's difficult to know how to dress for the climate of this particular region of the country. There is a significant temperature difference when it changes from sunny to cloudy and then even cooler when it rains. Layering is the name of the game. 

I have no refrigerator of course, I prepare all of my meals as I go. The fresh produce that I buy at the market gets eaten within the week. I make rice, pasta, soup, etc. with varying combinations of vegetables and eggs. As a person who is happy to eat vegetables all day, everyday, I've felt satisfied so far. At the supermarkets in the bigger towns I've bought things like tofu, quick cooking oats, and cheese. 

Other sights, sounds and smells that I might experience on any given day include: the call to prayer from the mosque, the spirited services of the Protestant church just down the road (they pipe it out over a loudspeaker), kids playing directly across the street in a small open, recreational space, the sound of women pounding (grinding) coffee beans at different times during the day, the smell of incense burning when coffee is being prepared, dogs barking at night - what starts as just a few turns into all the dogs in town, the occasional smell of burning trash, motorbikes buzzing down the road. 

Every evening the landlady still brings me buna (she's also started bringing me a cup at lunchtime, so much for cutting back!) and sometimes bread or on chillier evenings she brings me a cup of some sort of hot porridge. I'm pretty sure she told me she's going to teach me how to make the porridge so when I return to America I can make it there. I told her that where I come from in America its really cold sometimes and she says this porridge is good for health when the weather is cold. She is so kind, sweet and generous, I don't think there is a nicer landlady out there. She works all day cleaning, washing, preparing food and coffee, taking care of other things around the compound, and does it all with a smile on her face, I swear. Amazing. I suspect she and I are about the same age, it's strange to think about how different our lives are. 

Lately I've been spending my evenings catching up on episodes of  Fargo (thanks, Amy!) and eating nut goodie bars, dontcha know?! Sometimes I listen to podcasts that I had saved on my phone before I left the US or read books on my kindle. I should be spending more time studying the language but for now it feels good to take a break and enjoy things that I would do at home.

Some of my decorations to make this place feel like home! I love looking at them. One of my sisters gave me the heart before I moved away as a travel nurse 10+ years ago and it has hung in every home I've lived in since - in other words it's been a lot of places. Feel free to send a picture to add to the wall!

Love from Ethiopia! 

What I've been up to...

I really enjoy my morning walk to the health center. It's only about five minutes. It's usually pretty quiet and sometimes the lighting is right so you can see the mountains in the distance with enhanced clarity. Whenever I walk into town the mountains look different, they always look new in someway. Now that it's started raining everyday they are more green - they remind me of 'The Sound of Music' and I imagine myself running up the side and singing a song. I crack myself up. 

For now I've still just been hanging out at the health center getting to know the staff and observing how things work. I was able to go with one of the nurses to a neighboring health post to get to know one of the health extension workers there. We had to go by horse cart which is not what one would call a comfortable ride. But I know things could always be worse - while we're bouncing along on the bumpy dirt road I think to myself 'at least I'm not a laboring mother' - pregnant women in labor come to the health center by horse cart (some come by ambulance if one happens to be available) and two times already I've seen a laboring mother give birth within 30 minutes of getting off the horse cart. I don't have words to describe it, I am in awe. Just getting on and off a horse cart while in active labor is not something I can imagine much less enduring the bumpy ride. These women are something special. Anyway the health post that we went to isn't too far, I could walk there in about an hour and next time I think I'll do just that. It will bring me pleasure to go for a walk and I can take some photos along the way. People don't walk around without a purpose, whenever I'm on my way somewhere people always ask where I'm going, and for those people who feel a responsibility for me here I have to have an answer - if I said 'oh you know just over there a little ways, I promise I'll come back' I don't think they would let me go on my own! The health extension worker at this health post seemed interested in working with me so hopefully we can figure out some projects to work on together. Unfortunately language is an issue, my Oromifa isn't that great and her English isn't that great so there will be some struggles for sure. 

View from the health post that I visited

I've gone to the two schools in town, we have one primary and one secondary, and have been introduced to the students. Both times all the students are gathered outside, staring at me while my counterpart takes advantage of the opportunity to do some health teaching (gobez!) before introducing me. I'm really thankful that I got to be introduced in that way, that all the students in attendance got to see and learn about me at the same time. I think it was effective. The director of the secondary school (9th & 10th grade) has shown an interest in working with me (like the most interest out of everyone) so I'm excited to see what we can figure out. 

The walk to the secondary school 

Part of the way is lined with cactus, it's peaceful!

I also had a community meeting arranged and facilitated by Peace Corps where I was formally introduced to the important community leaders. We had a good turn out and I was well received. I wasn't surprised, I can't say enough how welcoming and supportive this community is. One of the older men who came said (my translation), 'yeah I saw her last week at the market, we exchanged greetings, she knows Oromifa' and like that's all I needed to do to be accepted by him. Everywhere I go whenever I see someone looking at me I greet them in the local language because 1) it's awkward to be stared at and if I say something it dissipates the awkwardness, 2) as soon as people hear me speak in their mother tongue it brings a smile to their face and who doesn't want a smile and 3) it helps people feel comfortable with and accepting of this new outsider in their community. 

Now that I've been introduced to lots of people, more and more I'm being called by name. Rather than calling out 'Ferenji' to get my attention the kids will say 'Angela!' It's pretty cute. Of course there is still the occasional child screaming 'Faaaa ren jeeeeeee!' like their head is about to explode because I'm the most exciting thing they've seen all day. The other morning a little girl was wailing and carrying on after a little boy did something to upset her but upon seeing me she stopped mid-wail and said with a surprised voice 'Ferenji?!' and immediately stopped her carrying on to watch me walk past. All of us who saw this shared a collective laugh. It feels strange to have this effect, all I can do is laugh. 

Love from Ethiopia!

Compound Life (ft. baby donkeys and electrical fires)

My morning walk to the health center. 

I live in a fenced-in compound on the edge of my town. The compound family (the landlord, his wife & two sons) lives in the main house and they rent out three rooms on either side of their house. The compound family is really great, the landlord knows how to take care of business and the landlady is super sweet - she invites me over or brings me buna and food everyday. Sometimes it's a little much if I've already eaten and then I have to eat more, but it's very kind of course. The 12yo son is helpful and nice, the 5yo son couldn't care less about me. He's super busy doing 5yo boy stuff. When he does talk to me I can't understand a word he is saying, I swear he's speaking Italian (he's not really). The two other neighbors in the compound work at the health center. One of them has two kids, a 9yo daughter and 7yo son. It's fun to have kids around. The first day I moved in they were really curious and all up in my room. But since then they have been respectful of my privacy and my space. The compound family has animals - oxen, cows, a horse, donkeys, chickens and a couple of cats. There was previously only one chicken; they recently acquired 3 hens and 2 roosters. I was thinking it would be great if that meant the possibility of buying eggs from the landlord in the future but with Fasika (Easter) just around the corner it's more likely that the chickens will be made into Doro Wat (traditional chicken stew) for the occasion. And the other day I woke up to a brand new baby donkey in the yard! My heart skipped a beat. Baby donkeys are my favorite and I didn't know we had a donkey that was expecting. Whenever I see a baby donkey I have to resist the urge to hug it. (I would never really try to hug a donkey but dang they're cute.) 

Not a good pic but this is him on his first day of life. Hopefully there are more photo ops in the future. 

On the subject of animals - I have woken up a few nights to the calls of a hyena roaming the street outside. They make some very distinct sounds and when it's close by it is quite loud. I could tell when he was right outside and when he was further down the road. I am safe inside my home, inside our fenced in compound but it's still freaky! 

I bought an electric stove for cooking, rather than the traditional charcoal stove that most people use. There is also the possibility of buying a propane or kerosene stove but I've had pretty consistent electricity at my home and electric is so easy. I had been using the stove without any trouble for a week but then I decided to tempt fate. It's actually a double burner electric stove - I had previously only ever used one burner at a time but this particular day I decided to use both at the same time. It started out ok. Then out of nowhere I hear sizzling and crackling and see sparks (imagine fireworks) and smoke as the wire to the outlet is on fire. The wire is hanging from the ceiling and then comes down alongside the wall (standard procedure). I'm completely taken off guard and then panicking as I don't know what to do except call for the neighbor while seeing the wire burn all the way up out of my reach. I manage to yell for her to come quickly in Oromifa - by the time she arrives the wire is still on fire but has stopped at the plastic woven tarp that makes up my ceiling, burning a hole in it. My room is right next the landlord's main living area so I imagined something more catching fire and then being responsible for burning the entire house down. I was a basket case! Luckily the landlord was home and he quickly turned off the electricity so the wire that was on fire went out. Everyone was remarkably calm about it (except me of course). The landlord just steps right in and starts replacing and upgrading the wiring. My lunch hadn't finished cooking so the neighbor kindly invited me over to eat with them. We had a good laugh about the day's excitement. And then later when we went to the health center we recounted the story and had another good laugh. I think the landlady felt sorry for me because that night she brought me more snacks than she usually does. And now there is a permanent singe mark on the wall and hole in the tarp ceiling, so am always reminded of the day I almost burned the house down. 

My water filter (so I don't get sick drinking the water), the things I use for washing (my dishes, my clothes, myself), and my bed with bed net. 

Love from Ethiopia!

To market, to market

We have a small market on Wednesdays and a big market on Sundays in my town of about 3,000 people. There isn't a fresh fruit or vegetable to be found around town unless it's market day, so to eat for the week one needs to plan their trip to the market accordingly. I had been waiting for Sunday to come for a few days, I was looking forward to stocking up on fresh veggies that I could be excited about eating for the week. I had gone to the market the week before with my neighbor so I kind of knew where things were located. Going to the market is not especially enjoyable - there's a lot of people making their way around a small space and I attract a lot of attention as a Ferenji (sometimes it's ok when it's just people smiling and showing an interest in me, other times it's exhausting when I'm being yelled at repeatedly to get my attention or a crowd gathers around me - I understand their curiosity about this newcomer to their village but it wears me out none the less). A major rainstorm had come through in the morning (we're currently in the little rainy season, the real rainy season is coming in the summer months) so the roads were all muddy. I decided to put on my rain boots and head to the market by myself, wondering if I would regret the decision to go alone. My home is on one end of town and the market is on the other, it takes only about 10 minutes to walk from end to end. As I get close to the market I notice that a man struggling with his mental health is clearing the way for me - he is walking ahead of me, silently but with exaggerated gestures, pointing out anything hazardous in the road ahead of us, like bigger rocks, horse carts or animals walking in the road, looking back to be sure I'm following behind without difficulty. His body language was so animated. It seemed like in his mind I was some kind of royalty. It was a very unique and unexpected experience. (Side note: there are no services for mental illness or chemical dependency here as far as I am aware, there is a need but as a developing country it's not yet a priority). Anyway, I make it to the market just fine except that the road is muddy and slick. Well that was nothing compared to the state of the market itself. The entire market is mud and puddles. If I hadn't been wearing my rain boots I would have had mud up to my ankles. Everyone is slipping and sliding and sloshing around. For a moment I thought about turning around and going back home, but then I would have nothing to eat and a person needs to eat. I carefully made my way to the part of the market where the produce is and start looking around for what looks good. It's really fun to ask for the price in the local language and see a smile come over the seller's face, you can tell they are slightly stunned and thereby delayed in responded. I got a bit of attention but nothing too overwhelming. I was surprised that many of the women who were startled to see a Ferenji would look at my feet to see my footwear and then give me an approving 'gobez' (smart/clever). I feel like I gained some serious street cred! I bought tomatoes, onions, carrots, potatoes and a mango. I didn't see any avocados so I asked a man if there were any at the market that day and he said no. A little boy who was nearby overheard and said he knew where the avocados were and he could show me. (One little boy turns into five little boys, all of his friends needed to help too). He was very eager to help me out, it was really sweet. When I got home I was anxious to show my neighbor what I bought to make sure I got a fair price. Sometimes there is Habesha price - the price for Ethiopians, and Ferenji price - the price for foreigners. If I were here as a tourist it wouldn't be a big deal to be charged Ferenji price, but since I am here as a volunteer and I consider this my home for the next two years it would feel different. My community didn't let me down! I bought from four different sellers and no one overcharged me. It made me feel very proud to be placed in this community. Even though I was hesitant to go by myself, I feel like the experience accelerated my integration into the community because more people saw me out doing a common activity in the local language. And because it was a good experience overall, it helped me feel more at home here.