Survivor

            Tonight I met a foreign volunteer living in Butajira for a couple of months. We got to talking about our organizations and what we were doing here. On hearing about the Peace Corps, what I do and how I live, he said Peace Corps sort of sounded like an episode of survivor. He said he didn’t think it was necessary for us to be living under the conditions PCVs are living in, that we could do our jobs the same with hot water, a toilet, etc. In his opinion, the PC should provide us with these minimum needs. He asked me if I was okay with these terms. My response was that this is what I signed up for and I knew going into it that some of the luxuries I am used to back home I wouldn’t be seeing for another 2 years.

            On listening to this and then thinking it over, I decided that I completely disagree with him. I don’t think I could do my job in the same way if I was living at a much higher standard than the average Ethiopian. PC is more than just going into a developing country, doing your job, finishing that job, and then getting out of there. It is about learning and understanding another culture and its people, about seeing what you have in common with someone who grew up on the other side of the world and what you don’t. How could I truly understand Ethiopia if I was living at a standard similar to what I am used to in America? I would never be able to integrate. When I tell my teachers that I eat injera and cook shiro wot and gomen they are so impressed. They say I am Ethiopian and explain how wonderful it is that I am doing things like them. I’ve had teachers tell me that I’m not like other foreigners they are used to seeing. I take that as a compliment. I would never be able to connect with them if I had plumbing, a toilet, hot water, etc. How would we be able to relate? I would be living under the idea of them versus us. And that’s not how I want to look at Ethiopia, as them verses me. I don’t want them to see me as just a foreigner. I know that is difficult and part of me will always be seen as different to Ethiopians, but I think I’m less of a foreigner to Ethiopians than volunteers working with other organizations. The volunteer I was talking to said that PC should require that all volunteers at least have a shower. I’m living without a shower and doing just fine. A shower is not a basic need. Hot water is not a basic need. Water on the other hand is and as long as you have a bucket, you can take a shower just fine. Trust me. I do it all the time along with millions of other people. The great thing about humans is that we are able to adapt really well. Everything takes time but eventually you learn to live in new situations and those new situations become normal. And honestly, not having hot water or a shower is by far the least of my worries. I’ve learned that I don’t need those things.

            All in all I’m happy to be working for an organization like the Peace Corps. Yea it’s hard sometimes… really, really hard. But I would much rather be part of PC, where human interactions are the number one priority than any other of the hundreds of NGOs who send volunteers, drop them off for a little and have them live under conditions not so different from what they are used to.

A few things I love about my life in Ethiopia

I’ve written about a lot of the hard parts of being in the Peace Corps, so I thought for this post I would write about some of the things I’ve come to love about living in Ethiopia and Ethiopian culture in general.

1.      Shai bunna breaks. When I first got here I didn’t think I could sit through the minimum of 2 tea/coffee breaks a day, but now I love it and look forward to drinking my small cup of delicious shai and eating a biscuit.

2.      Shopkeepers that tell me I can pay next time I see them when I don’t have the money on me.

3.      Doing a shoulder bump when you greet people as a sign of friendship.

4.      My school director who gives me a hug every morning to greet me.

5.      Injera. Seriously, cannot get enough of it. I have to have at least one injera a day to make my stomach happy.

6.      One common Amharic greeting is “seulam naw” meaning “peace” or “do you have peace?” When someone says this you can reply by saying, “allan,” meaning I have [peace]. I absolutely love this greeting.

7.      Randomly seeing my host family in town. This is always a welcome surprise and always brightens my day. I love them.

8.      Sharing some kolo with the teachers at my school

9.      Kids that run up to me to greet me and I greet them back in Amharic without thinking twice about it. I really just love anytime I understand anything in Amharic.

10.  Going to the market with my landlord. We can hardly communicate because she speaks no English and my Amharic is not great, but somehow we find a way to make it work.

11.  Going to the bank and being greeted by the guards who ask me to join them for some bunna. And of course they’ve got their rifles laid out across their laps. No big deal.

12.  Walking across the street every morning to buy fresh bread for breakfast.

13.  Greeting women with 2, 3, or 4 kisses on the cheek. It reminds me of France.

14.  The little boy and girl on my street that run after me to fist pump when I walk past their home and get so much joy out of it every time.

15.  Looking up at the stars at night. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the night sky so beautiful.

16.  Watching the sun rise on the mountains on my morning run.

17.  Getting invited to share a meal with people I just met and eating together off one big plate of injera and various wots.

18.  Buying my vegetables from Bereket’s shop off my street. He has wooden stools in front of the produce so it’s also a hang out spot.

This is just a short list that I’m sure will get much, much longer as time goes on. 

Only in Ethiopia

            I found myself in the strangest situation yesterday. Let me set this up for you. There is a foreign family that lives on my street and whenever they go out of town they ask me to stop by their house to check up on their dog (Most Ethiopians are afraid of dogs so this is why I do it and also, I really like this dog so I enjoy doing it). These same friends of mine have a chicken coop in their compound with 3 chickens and 1 rooster. I have never had issues with any of these animals… well that is until yesterday.

            As soon as I entered the compound I could tell something was up. The dog wasn’t in its normal spot, but instead was by the corner of the house ready to pounce. As I looked around I saw that the rooster was no longer in the coop, but instead had found a way to get on top of it. Then, I realized there was only 1 chicken in the coop. After more inspection I found random feathers all around the compound. I looked at the dog and just imagined the worse. At this point I started looking around for pieces of the missing chickens I assumed had been massacred by the dog. I kept picturing chicken parts scattered around the house and began to panic a little. To my surprise and relief, I finally found the chickens behind the house. I’m sure they were beyond scared of the dog.

 At first I thought, well if the dog hasn’t slaughtered any of them yet, what are the chances that it will now? On second thought though, I’d look like a pretty bad dog sitter if I had knowingly left the chickens and the rooster out with the dog. My neighbors wouldn’t be back for a couple more days so who knew what could happen in that time frame and what the dog would do overnight?

            So I preceded to get both the chickens and the rooster who would not stop screaming back into the coop. I have never in my life dealt with chickens except when enjoying a good meal of course. I don’t do live chickens, but in that moment I knew I had to find a way to get a hold of them. I tried grabbing one but that scared me so I got hold of a nice long stick instead to lead them into the coop. I looked like such an idiot running around after some chickens with a stick in my hand trying to get it back in the cage. After several minutes the dog finally figured out what I was doing and helped me. Poor chickens! They were traumatized. They had no idea what was going. After getting the chickens in the coop it was time for the rooster. Boy was that a challenge. Remember, the rooster was on top of the coop. I had no idea how to get it down. I decided to scare it by hitting my stick against the tin roof. When I thought it would never get down it finally did, and then started running hysterically around the compound with both me and dog following it. At this point I had to stop and take in the moment. I couldn’t help but start laughing. I felt pretty dumb running after a really loud rooster, alongside a dog with a stick in my hand. It was all too comical. Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, the rooster got up into the coffee tree. How? I have no idea but it did so once again I had to think of a way to get it down. I tried grabbing it but that didn’t work. So then I just started shaking the tree to get it down. I do feel really bad for that rooster because at the bottom of the tree was the dog waiting for it.

            I’m happy to say that after a good 30 minutes, the dog and I succeeded in getting all the chickens and the rooster back inside their home. I don’t know if they’ll be laying any eggs anytime soon for having been traumatized, but I can say they are all safe and sound. Only in Ethiopia would I find myself running around after some chickens and a rooster.     

The dog running after the rooster

The rooster somehow got up into the coffee tree

I've come a long way

            December 3^rd marks the start of G9’s 6^th month in Ethiopia. I feel like so much has happened yet at the same time I don’t know where the time has gone. I was able to see some PCV friends a couple days ago. We got to talking about how far we’ve come since we first stepped off the plane and walked on Ethiopian ground. Explaining my experience as an emotional rollercoaster is an understatement. Instead, I would describe it as a 10 hour Ethiopian minibus ride (meaning it’s packed with at least 6 more people than it can hold) on an unpaved road, on top of a rollercoaster. Nevertheless, with all that’s happened all of us could agree that we feel much better today than when we first arrived. It now feels like we’re actually living in Ethiopia. I feel so much better today than I did when I first moved into my house. I feel comfortable with my 2 rooms. I’ve made it my own and it feels like home. I have everything I need. It may not be much but I’ve adapted to living without plumbing, for instance, and not having it doesn’t bother me anymore. Now I don’t think twice about using the shint bet either and I’ve finally got a process down for taking a bucket bath that makes showering more feasible. Still not the best, but I’m not complaining. I’ve learned to live without many of the pleasures back home and I’m okay.

I’m also no longer scared to walk in the middle of town on my own. I still have some days when I’d rather not deal with all the shouting when I walk down the street, but I have fewer of them. I buy my supplies with no problems now. I feel comfortable walking around to the different shops asking if they have any flower, or going to the butcher shop on the street to buy some meat. Successfully buying meat on my own last week for my Thanksgiving meal with the girls was a proud moment for me. It may not seem like a lot, but it’s showing me that I am capable of doing this. I had always imagined the worse when I walked out of compound and nothing ever happened. My fears about Ethiopia are going away.

My first night in my house I cried myself to sleep and thought there was no way I could do this for another 2 years. I was so scared. I still have moments where I have doubts, but they don’t come as often and now I love my home. I’m learning how to deal with my many emotions, like when I start to get sad or bored, I know to get out of my house and go see my neighbors or pay my host family a visit. Seeing them always cheers me up. When I get frustrated at a teacher at my school, I know to go home to calm myself down. If I have any advice for future volunteers it’s to be patient. You have to wait it out. It does get better as these 5 months have proven. I didn’t think it would, but it does. My friends and I have realized that we have started a life here and it feels really good to finally be able to say that because there in the beginning I wasn’t so sure. Ethiopia feels more like home every day.   

Working with others

Working with other people can be difficult. Working with people that are from a completely different culture than my own is proving to be even more challenging. I never liked group work in school and I’m not enjoying it now, but seeing as how I have a real job and I’d like to keep it, I don’t have much of a choice so I’m learning. I’m finally getting into a comfortable routine at my school and thinking of projects for the upcoming semester. I go to my school in the morning for about 3 hours. At lunch I walk home and then go back in the afternoon for a few more hours. I have my model classroom/office and with the director getting it painted last week I have started putting teaching materials on the wall with the purpose of showing teachers how they can use classrooms to their advantage when teaching.

Just when I thought I was getting the hang of things however, problems arose. Twice this week I found myself having to take a step back, take a deep breath and relax. On two separate occasions involving different projects I met with teachers and found that we had completely opposing ideas. The education system in Ethiopia is completely different than in America. I’m not saying that the education system in America is the best. I know we have many issues that need to be worked on. But education here, the way teachers go about teaching and the way they approach their students is very new to me. I have to remind myself that things that seem very normal to me are often not the norm here. And of course this goes the other way around. Many common practices in Ethiopia are completely foreign to me. Trying to explain my point of view is difficult because the education culture that I know and understand and the Ethiopian education culture are completely different. Explaining my thoughts to my teachers is even more difficult because of the language barrier. When I’m explaining something and I can tell that my fellow teachers do not understand I get frustrated and that’s when I have to tell myself to breathe and take a step back. Half the time I know my teachers and the administrative staff have no idea what I’m saying and what’s worse, instead of telling me they don’t understand I’ve found that at times they just don’t listen and pretend that they are by nodding their heads.

I have to find different approaches in reaching out to my teachers when I want to introduce new ideas and show them a different way to do things, because I am still new here. And not only am I new, but I am also a foreigner making me even more of an outsider. I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot so I can’t just tell them directly that I think they need to change something or tell them why something they have been doing for a long time is not working because that’s just going to make working with them in the future even more difficult. So I’m learning to be creative and patient when I talk to colleagues. At times it gets hard, as this last week has proven. 

Some shocking stats

            Part of my work for my CENA (Community and Education Needs Analysis) involves getting some statistics on the schools in Butajria. After 3 weeks of trying to figure out where I’d have to go for the stats (because it’s not as simple as going online and getting them), who I needed to talk to and from whom I would get them, and when I could get them, I finally got the data in my hands this week. (This job is definitely teaching me and forcing me to be patient). It may not seem like a lot, but I felt some sense of accomplishment for getting part of my CENA completed and out of the way.

            During our training over the summer we had several discussions on the enrollment of students in schools, the differences in those numbers based on gender, dropout rates, student performance in class, and gender roles in general. So going into my Peace Corps service I was well aware that the dropout rates were pretty high and that many students don’t pass their 10^th grade exams and therefore do not move on to preparatory school (11^th and 12^th grade). The preparatory school in turn prepares students for university, if they pass their 12^th grade exams. Yet knowing all of this, I was not ready for the statistics that I was handed yesterday.

            The statistics I received are for this school year. Looking over those gives us a pretty good idea of what the trend has been like over the last few years. The Butajira area has 16 primary schools. The majority of those are private schools that don’t exceed 400 students. My public school has the largest number of students. For grades 1 through 8, there are 3,911 students. (You understand why I feel overwhelmed now?) In all these primary schools, both private and public, there are almost an equal number of girls and boys enrolled. Things start to change when you get to the high school (9^th and 10^th grade). At the high school level, there are about 600 more boys attending than girls. In the preparatory school (grades 11^th and 12^th), there are only 367 females to 784 males. Even the number of boys has dropped significantly moving from the high school to the preparatory school. Not only is that shocking, but the fact that primary schools start out with about the same number of males and females and once you get to the highest grades, 11^th and 12^th, the difference in males and females is cut in half is alarming.

            I asked one of my English teachers what he thought about this. His response was that many females have a lot of responsibilities, more so the ones who come from the rural areas. Many girls have a lot of housework to do and have to help their families. They do all of the cleaning, washing, and cooking in their homes. This gives them very little time to study and/or attend all of their classes. When the time comes for them to take their 10^th grade exams they don’t pass and cannot move on to the preparatory school. I knew these issues were real problems in Butajira when I became a volunteer, however it did not stop me from being completely surprised when I had the figures in front of my eyes. The government has taken initiative in helping to promote gender equality and empowering females. Many schools around the country have begun programs to help their female students. The task is challenging when you look at how many students are enrolled in schools. The student to teacher ratio in my school is 1:75! I am hoping to get involved in the current programs at my school and also think of new ways to inspire female students.  

A couple days off

As I approached my school this morning I could hear the students shouting louder than usual. These sounded like playful screams, yet they were still loud enough for me to hear a couple streets over. From previous experience I assumed this meant that school had been cancelled. Once inside the compound I greeted some of the teachers and my director and was told that as I had predicted, school had been cancelled for the next 2 days. The students, along with many of the teachers and myself had just found out. Of course the students were beyond thrilled. Why was school cancelled so suddenly? Well, for the past week we have not had typical November weather, as several of the teachers have informed me. The days have been mostly cloudy with occasional rain. This time of the year is important for harvesting. The bad weather we have been having however is not good for the crops. (I have not been complaining about the cool weather and have welcomed it, but of course it is not ideal for food security). Because of this, public schools in the region (at least in Butajira) have been cancelled. Students who have families with farms will take these extra days off to help their families harvest the crops as fast as possible so that the food does not get ruined by the weather. I thought this made an interesting post for this sort of problem would never occur in the public schools of America and I thought it might shed some more light on life here in Butajira. I may live in a town of over 30,000 people, but many of the students that attend the schools in this town come from rural areas and have to walk several kilometers each day to get to school.   

Installation Meeting

            Today I had what Peace Corps calls an installation meeting. My program manager came down from the Addis office to conduct the meeting. Basically, the purpose of the meeting was to introduce Peace Corps and the work the organization does around the world. It allowed the staff at my school to understand my role at their school and the kind of support I need to make my work happen. The meeting didn’t get off to a good start. I had been told that getting a classroom would be no trouble at all but of course when the time came to get everything set up I didn’t have a room. We were told to hold the meeting in the library, but that room wasn’t suitable. The next room we tried the outlet wasn’t working. Finally, the third try worked. Next problem, most of the people from the education office that I had invited to the meeting did not show up. Once the room situation had been settled and I turned around to see who was there, I was met with just 5 faces. At this point I wanted to cry. My manager didn’t seem too worried about this but I still felt embarrassed. We waited, and waited, and waited. More people eventually came in. The meeting was scheduled to begin at 10am. Of course it didn’t start until past 11am. Throughout the meeting more staff from my school began showing up and the turn out ended up pretty good. Around 50 people were there by the end.  

            The meeting was an enormous help in allowing my school to understand what I am doing here. It helped even more that the meeting was mostly held in Amharic. Teachers and staff were able to ask my program manager questions about my work and Peace Corps in general. They discussed how to reduce the harassment that I get not only at the school but in the community at large. Overall, I was happy with how it turned out.

            The second part of the meeting was focused on the students. My director and the rest of the teachers gathered the older students (7^th and 8^th grade) in the field. I assumed they would just pick a few students for this brief meeting, however as I walked out to the field next to my manager, I was met with hundreds of students. They had gotten all the students from both grades together. I felt intimidated as I walked over to them. The students were sitting in a huge circle. We made our way towards the middle so everyone could see us. When the students finally quieted down and found a place to sit on the grass, my manager began introducing me. He explained that I am a volunteer and am here to help them improve their English. He went on to say that my name is Helena and not “ferenji,” “money,” “white,” or “China.” As I looked around at all the students and saw the majority of them interested in what my manager was saying and paying attention, the intimidation I had felt just minutes ago went away. What I was feeling is difficult for me to put into words.

Up to this point and the weeks leading up to this meeting, all the students had felt overwhelming. There’s only 1 of me and over 3,000 of them. I don’t speak their language and seem completely foreign to them. Some of them are very nice, but there are others that are really rude and at times that’s difficult to handle. It can make you question what you’re doing here. But as I was standing with all these students around me and saw how interested and focused they were I realized that they want to get to know me and no one had yet formally introduced me to them. And throughout the next 2 years, this is something I need to show them, that I am not so foreign to them and we can find ways to relate to one another and help one another. No one had told them what the foreigner was doing at their school. Just because they are children doesn’t mean they don’t need to know what is going on. This is their school and they have every right to question what I am doing and why I’m there. It’s a respect thing and in that moment I saw how a little respect goes a long way. When you treat children like they matter, like adults, they will respect you. At this point I no longer felt overwhelmed or nervous by their presence, but got a rush of excitement and exhilaration. This is the most excited I’ve felt since I’ve arrived at this school, to work with these students, to get to know them. And that’s exactly what I told them. I let them know that I now had a classroom and I hope that they come in and to talk to me. One student asked a question, wanting to know when I would be at the school. Another asked why I had never really spoken to any of them, that when they shout hello to me I just turn around and wave. I had never realized that this wasn’t really greeting them. In our culture waving at someone acknowledges that you saw them and we are okay with this simple greeting. Waving does not mean greeting someone here. They actually want me to talk back to them so I let him know that when he calls me by my name now, we can talk as much as he wants. This made them all smile and laugh. Another asked how I would be able to help all of them. I responded by letting him know that I would talk to anyone who came to talk to me. It seemed like a good answer in the moment and we will see how tomorrow goes, but hopefully my classroom doesn’t get swarmed by 500 7^th graders because I’m not sure how I will handle that.  

Being a celebrity

A couple of friends and I were discussing this issue a couple of days ago and I feel like the topic deserves a post. Back when I lived in America, I could never understand why celebrities would get upset at the paparazzi or lash out at people that were trying to get photographs of them or just following them around. To me, they were celebrities and if they wanted to be a celebrity that’s the price they had to pay, so celebrities should quit their complaining and go back to living their lavish lives.

            It’s been a little over 4 months since I’ve been in Ethiopia and I’m beginning to understand how celebrities feel. Every time I walk out of my house I get stares. I have people of all ages calling me “ferengi,” “money,” “China,” “you.” People follow me and try to talk to me. Kids come up behind me and try to grab my hand or touch my leg. Groups of young girls or boys walking close by me will giggle as they watch me walk past them. I’ve also seen people taking my picture. I know you’re not texting when you’ve got your arm extended straight out in front of you and your phone pointing at me. It’s a little obvious. At the bus station last week, I had a group of guys just standing in a circle around me, staring as if I was some creature that they had never seen before. It’s hard to keep going about your business when everyone is interested in everything that you’re doing. When I walk into one of the small restaurants close to my house to buy bread they all stop eating and watch me exchanging money with the owner. And when I greet them with “seulam nah, dahnah, nah?” they are in absolute shock that I can say a few words in Amharic. They can’t believe that a ferengi is speaking their language and can greet them.

            I see some of the same people every day and they continue doing this so now I am wondering if it will ever stop. If I discussed this problem with Ethiopians they could easily tell me the same thing I used to think about celebrities back home. I am a foreigner from America and if I come and live in Ethiopia, this is the price I have to pay. I don’t feel like a celebrity though. I’m not a celebrity. I want them to see me as a human being and I’m beginning to wonder if they will ever see me as someone like them.

 I now understand how celebrities back home feel. We treat celebrities as if they aren’t human, as if they are completely different from us and we cannot relate to them in any way. When we gawk at them in magazines, obsess about them on TV, and research them on the internet to find out absolutely everything we can about them, we don’t think it is wrong because we do not see them as one of us. For us they have some sort of superhuman characteristics that make it so they are unable to relate to us. But we must remember that they are people too. I feel like Ethiopians see me as superhuman sometimes. When I walk down the street and people shout at me to get my attention I want them to realize that such behavior is hurtful. I want Ethiopians to see me as a person, with feelings and emotions just like them. I may be a foreigner, but I am still human. I hope that eventually they won’t see me as an outsider but I’m beginning to think that at some level I will always be someone unknown, an outcast. I know that it is impossible for all Ethiopians to view me as a person like them, however I think the task may be possible with the Ethiopians that I have become friends with. I see now why celebrities occasionally punch photographers in the face; several times I’ve come close to doing the same thing myself. 

Ethiopian ceremony for a new baby

            This past weekend I got to see some PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers). It was so great getting to see some of the people I had gotten close to during training. But as soon as I stepped back into my house I felt a rush of sadness. I was reminded that I was alone. It is not as simple as it may seem to spend a couple days with several people and then suddenly go back home to emptiness. Finding a balance between the two is part of this whole experience. Because there were moments over the weekend where I felt overwhelmed being around all the PCVs. I’ve been by myself for 7 weeks now so to go from one extreme to the other is challenging. If I stay alone too long I feel sad, but if I hang around other PCVs for too long and am away from my home I don’t like that either.

            As soon as I arrived home I went to bed and slept for a couple hours because emotionally, I wasn’t feeling great. I then received a text message from my neighbor inviting me to a bunna (coffee) ceremony that afternoon. I wasn’t really feeling up to it, but I need to make friends so even though I wasn’t in a state of mind to go, I felt it was the right thing to do. I’m so glad I ended up going. My neighbors are a Dutch couple that work for VSO at the hospital here in Butajira. They have their 2 little children with them and they had invited some other neighbors for the ceremony. So I got to meet some more people that live on my street. As I was socializing with the group, that sadness that I had felt after leaving my friends went away and I forgot that I had been upset in the first place.

            The Ethiopian woman that was making the coffee for us told me that a woman on the street behind ours had just had a baby. It is custom in Ethiopia that on the fifth day of a baby’s birth, a ceremony for the woman be held. People from the neighborhood come over to the mother’s house to visit her and her baby. Bunna is offered to all the guests and a local food called gunfo. Ethiopians describe gunfo to me as porridge. It tastes like raw dough and in the middle there is butter that you dip the dough into. Women eat a lot of this after giving birth because it helps them regain their strength. I really don’t like it but it is considered rude not to eat when food is offered to you, so I took little tiny bites, hoping it was enough. We ate in the mother’s bedroom as she was laying and resting on her bed with the baby. There were chairs set aside in her bedroom for visitors. Every time I put my spoon back down, the mother would say, “Helena, please, eat more.” So I had to take more little bites. I was there for probably about 45 minutes and in that span of time people kept coming into the bedroom to greet the mother and wish her well. Afterwards they would all gather in the living room to eat, drink, and talk. It felt great to be a part of such an important ceremony and something that is truly Ethiopian. I enjoyed seeing people from the community that I knew and talking to them. It felt like I was part of their celebration and more importantly that I was becoming part of this community.

            Whenever I have bad days or I feel sad I find that my mood changes completely when I go visit people. As time goes on I’m realizing that even though I may be far away from my friends and family back home and my other PCV friends, I’m making friends here, in my town. And even though my Amharic is not good and I am often limited in what I can say, it doesn’t stop me from finding happiness with these people.

Classrooms at my school

So far I’ve gotten the chance to observe a handful of English classes. I can say that I am enjoying doing observations. I feel like I’m actually doing something when I observe a class but also, I love seeing the students excited to raise their hands and participate. Of course, there are always the few in the back not wanting to be there and paying no attention, but I think that happens worldwide. You cannot escape it, there will always be some that just don’t want to be there. Honestly, I didn’t always pay attention in school either. Here, I’ve noticed that the majority of students are excited about school. At least they seem to be when teachers ask them questions. They are always very eager to be called on as they raise and wave their hands saying, “Teacher, teacher, teacher,” hoping to be the student that is called on to answer. They like being noticed by the teacher.

            After the period is over the teachers always tell me that class size is a huge problem. Classroom management is their biggest challenge. Average class sizes at Mekicho are 75 students. I witnessed one teacher who had 100 first graders in his class! And just because there are many students in one class does not man a teacher has a bigger room to accommodate those numbers. Students just have to cram themselves in, sometimes 5 or 6 students to a desk that is meant for only 3.

Watching this got me thinking on the best way to fix it. A lot of my work will be on helping teachers with classroom management and showing them different and new practices to teaching. But as I have been visiting all 3 public schools in Butajira, I have noticed that all of them have big, open fields within the school compounds showing me that there is plenty of space to build more classrooms. But as one teacher pointed out, the education budget is small and if you build more classes, which costs money, you also have to hire more teachers for those classes, which also costs money.

It seems like education always receives the smallest budget. I try to explain to my Ethiopian friends and teachers that this is similar in the States. Not everyone in the States is rich and certainly not the citizens who work in education. Teachers in America also have small salaries and each year school budgets around the country get cut.

All in all, some of my teacher trainings will definitely have to be on classroom management. We got plenty of training on this during PST (pre-service training) and we will get more trainings during IST (In- Service training) in Januray. For now I will continue my observations and conduct some interviews with teachers and some of the staff at the education office. My main priority for the moment is working on my CENA or Community Education Needs Assessment. I have to turn this into Peace Corps before our IST. And of course each day I continue to try to understand Butajira a little bit more and become better adjusted to living in Ethiopia.  

Crater Lake

Yesterday, I went on a little excursion with some Volunteers that were in town for the day. They asked me if I wanted to come along with them to visit Crater Lake, which is just a few kilometers outside of Butajira. I had heard volunteers before say that going out to the lake was worth it so I though why not? It will be nice to get out of Butajira for a couple hours and see something different.

            We took a 10 minute ride on a bajaj (little blue taxi) to get to the lake. At first when we told the driver to take us to the lake he had no idea what we were talking about and explained that there was no lake. After some more explanation on our part he understood where we wanted to go. I think he was confused because of how far out it was. Once out of Butajira the scenery is very rural. There are no cement houses or gates to the compounds. The only homes in site were traditional mud huts and mud homes surrounded by fields of corn, teff, and a beautiful mountainside. When the drivers dropped us off we soon encountered trouble. Being ferengi (foreigner), the drivers tried to charge us triple the normal price. We were arguing for a few minutes and the argument soon escalated. This was the first time I had ever been in such an ordeal so as it was all happening I just stood in shock. My Amharic isn’t at a level yet where I feel comfortable arguing with locals. I had no idea what to do since the men got angrier and angrier. Before we knew it children had come to surround us and watch. The drivers even stopped a man riding on his motorcycle as he drove by to explain to us that the price they were charging was correct. The men started shouting and voices of the children surrounding us yelling, “Money money money, give me money” was very overwhelming. I started to think that maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea for me to tag along and I wasn’t sure how we were going to get out of this situation. Finally, we gave them a little more money than we ought and just walked away. The men were still shouting since they thought we should have given them more, but as we walked away they eventually left us alone. What a great start to the afternoon.

            As we started the walk up the hill to the lake all five of us were still in shock and didn’t know what to think. The girls did let me know that this has happened to them before and in such cases you just have to give them the money or if they don’t take it leave it on the seat and walk away. 

            Since the lake is in a crater formed thousands of years ago you have to walk up a hill to get to it. As we started walking up I stopped and took a minute to take in the landscape. It was a little past 3 pm at this point and the sunlight was perfect. There were some clouds in the sky and a cool breeze so the temperature felt great. In the distance I could see the magnificent highlands. What made the scenery even more perfect were the rays of sunlight getting through the clouds and casting shadows all along the mountains. It was beautiful and the words I have written and pictures I have posted cannot do what I saw and felt justice. As we arrived at the top of the hill I was left speechless at the sight of the lake. It was deep into the crater so we couldn’t reach the lake, but the water was a beautiful deep blue. At this height we could see past the lake and for miles out. The valley beyond the crater was gorgeous. Since we have been out of the rainy season for just a couple weeks now, everything is still green and lush. Between the different shades of green from the trees and grass, the perfect blue sky, the yellow fields of teff, and more mountains and lakes in the distances the scenery was spectacular. There were also mud homes dispersed in the valley and along the hills with herds of cattle roaming and eating grass.

            At one point I thought how amazing it would be to wake up every morning with this lake and the view, but then I looked more closely at the children and the few homes around me and saw that this is rural Ethiopia, where children are malnourished and families do not have enough to eat. How can so many people be suffering in such a beautiful place? Thus far I have mostly been in cities of Ethiopia and though I have seen homeless people, this may have been one of the first times that I got to see what life is like in the really rural areas. Even though there were power lines going through the valley, the traditional houses that we passed along the hill did not have electricity or running water. You could see the malnourishment of the children who walked alongside us. The patches of white/gray in their fading hair showed me this. Some of them only had shirts on and were running around in their bare bottoms. One young boy, Jamal, who acted as an informal tour guide was covered in mud and dust and had no shoes, but that did not stop his excitement at showing us around the lake and guiding us to the cave we were told we had to see.    

            We had been told that there was a man who lived in a cave that we had to go see. None of us knew what to expect, but our curiosity led us to follow Jamal. We walked around the lake and further up into the hills. At one point I thought maybe he hadn’t understood where we wanted to go because the walk seemed to take forever. After walking up the final hill though we reached a gorge where what lay below was invisible with the trees and bushes that covered it. We followed Jamal down into the gorge along a path. The scenery changed completely and it now felt like we were in a jungle. Barely any sunlight could get past the trees and the air felt very moist. The path led straight into the cave. What we found inside were three elderly men and three elderly women, each sitting with their respective gender at opposite sides of the caves. There was grass laid out in the cave. We asked if we could come in. We took off our shoes and walked inside where we sat together and introduced ourselves. They were drinking bunna (coffee) out of small, wooden goblets and chewing chat. (Chat is a mildly stimulating green leaf that you chew for several hours. It is very popular in Ethiopia but the leaf is illegal in the United States). Chat ceremony is usually a social thing. People gather in a room, grab a few branches, and pick the leaves off one by one and chew them. So we had walked into the cave during a bunna/chat ceremony.

We didn’t stay long as night falls early here. We took the dirt road back to Crater Lake, first walking through a field of corn and flowers and then down a rocky hill. We got to see the sun beginning to set and catch one last look at the scenery. Foreigners often have a misconception of Ethiopia as a very hot, desert like environment. Though this is true for some parts of Ethiopia, a huge part of the country is covered by lush greenery and huge mountains. I was so happy to get to see this part of Ethiopia more closely. Even though Butajira is situated in a valley surrounded by mountains, it is still a good sized town and I don’t get to see the rural areas unless I step out of the city center.

How did we get home? There are mini buses that pass along the main road all the time, so when we reached the road we flagged down a bus and hopped in. It cost each of us 5 birr to get home, four times cheaper than what the bajaj drivers had tried to charge us! 

Learning to slow down

So you might wonder what I have been doing with my days since training has been over and what kind of work I have been doing. To be honest, I haven’t done much. The Peace Corps approach to development is people centered. It is a bottoms-up approach that starts at the grassroots level. It’s a participatory and inclusive approach that allows for different parts of the community to be involved. In order to achieve that, Peace Corps strongly believes that within Ethiopia at least, it is important to develop personal relationships before professional ones. Showing your face around town and just going to your school to chat with the teachers is enough. People need to get to know you and you need to get to know them. Getting started here has meant going slow and taking time to get the lay of Butajira. What’s most important right now is to develop relationships with my English teachers at Mekicho and the staff at the education office.

            To get some idea of the importance of personal relationships, let me take you through a simple Ethiopian greeting. “Tena istilin, dahnah adark, seulam nah, igzabierh istilin, seulam nah, dahnah, dahna nan.” These greetings could go on forever. It’s not a simple hello or good morning like I am used to back in the States. No. Here when you greet someone, you greet them in at least five different ways. And what I just wrote up is just for the morning. There are also separate afternoon greetings and night ones. Ethiopians take time to make sure the person they are greeting is doing well, also asking about their family and making sure their life is okay in general. As Americans we tend to have a million things to do every day and often don’t have the time or we don’t take the time to really ask about how the people we are greeting are doing. In Ethiopia when people greet me I can tell that they actually really do want to know how my life is going, it is not just a formality or something you do to be polite. And if I don’t respond to these greetings in the same way, I’m being culturally insensitive. So I am having to learn to take the time to ask everyone that I meet how they are doing and trying to remember all the Amharic greetings.

I am also learning to slow down. In America, we are constantly running around trying to do as much as we can, forgetting to do the simple things. Ethiopians have asked me what time I eat at in America and I tell them that depends on the day. I’ve had times where I’ve had to eat my lunch as I was walking to class or eat while driving to work. It wasn’t uncommon for me to eat just twice a day. When I was with my host family they never let me out of the house without sitting down and eating breakfast and drinking my tea. Trying to explain to them that not eating breakfast was no big deal and was customary back home was something that they couldn’t wrap their heads around.

            Learning to be patient and slow down when you are used to doing the complete opposite is a bit challenging. Changing your behavior is no simple task. When I first arrived to site after training, I started off with a list of goals that I had to accomplish every day. I’ve realized after just a month that a list of weekly goals is much more doable than daily ones. I’ve learned that it is common for me not to accomplish all I want to do in one day because according to Ethiopian time, I’m planning too much in one day. Life is much more laid back here and I am having to learn that if I don’t get something done that day, it’s no big deal, it will just get done the next day… or the day after.

            So what have I been doing? Well every morning I show my face at Mekicho Primary school. I’ve done some classroom observations. Part of my assignment here includes me getting a model classroom. The school director says I will get a classroom soon (but again you never know what soon means here). Once I get the classroom I have to turn it into a learning center and decorate it in a way that enhances learning. Most classrooms here are just dirt walls with old desks and overused chalkboard. With the model classroom I get to show teachers how they can use the room as a learning/teaching tool for their students. When my director gives me the classroom I will have plenty of work getting materials and probably go to school all day. For now though I just go in the morning. I come home for lunch and then in the afternoons I try to get stuff for my house which is still pretty empty. It’s funny though how much of a difference having a bed and some flooring can do. My house may not have much in it, but I get more and more comfortable every day. I’m learning that I can live with very few things. I’ve made it work. And most importantly I'm learning not to rush through everything all the time and to be patient.  

Ethiopian food

            Finally, a post about the food I’ve been eating. I love food. If I could just sit and eat all day I would. And I love Ethiopian food. I was first introduced to this type of cuisine last year on my study abroad trip to Uganda where there was an Ethiopian restaurant in town. I would want to eat Ethiopian food every single day. I’m pretty sure it got to be obnoxious for the people who had to deal with me that that was pretty much the only thing I ever wanted to eat, but it was really, really good. So when I found my Peace Corps service would be in Ethiopia, I knew I wouldn’t go hungry.

            The most important part of an Ethiopian meal is the injera. How to describe injera? It is kind of like a thin, spongy textured pancake that’s made with a grain called teff, grown in this part of the world. Ethiopians eat with their hands so you break off pieces of injera and use it to pick up the various Ethiopian dishes. The foods that are put on injera are called wots, or sauces. And my host family made the best Ethiopian food. Here are some of my favorites:

Shiro: I eat this almost every day because I love it and it’s really simple to make. Its main ingredient is shiro powder, or chickpea powder, which I’ve been told you can’t easily get in the States. Also important is the berbere powder that goes in it (sort of like a red pepper powder). This can’t be found in the States either so I will be bringing plenty back with me when my service is up.

Dinich wot: This has got to be my all-time favorite. I haven’t made it myself yet because to be honest, I’m too lazy to peel potatoes and the tables I ordered from the carpenter have yet to arrive so I’d rather not peel potatoes while sitting on the floor. But every time I go see my host family they make it for me. It’s just oil, onions, water, berbere powder and potatoes. But the wot tastes absolutely amazing with the berbere and my favorite part of this dish is getting to the end when my injera is completely soaked in the sauce. Some volunteers have complained that they don’t like the end of their meals because all they are left with is soggy injera but I couldn’t disagree more, the soggy injera soaked in all the wots is so so so good. Can you tell I like sauce? That may be the French in me speaking.  

Habasha gomen: This can be made with either spinach or collard greens. All you do is sautee some onions in oil. Then, cut up the spinach or collard greens into the smallest pieces you can get them into and add them to the pot. Let it cook for about 10 minutes and then throw it on your injera. This is often eaten with bread as well. Delicious!

Gomen: This is made with cabbage instead of spinach and is made in pretty much the same way as habasha gomen. Cut up carrots and potatoes are also added.

Keyser: Keysir are beats. Start by sautéing some onions in oil, then add the cut up beats and cook for 10 minutes. Served on injera of course.

Doro wot: This is probably Ethiopia’s favorite dish. Doro is chicken. I’m not exactly sure how the wot is made although I know Ethiopians put a lot of berbere in it, which makes any dish better. The wot is served with chunks of chicken (which is bought at the market on Friday and killed in the backyard once it arrives home) and hard boiled eggs. 

            I haven’t eaten much meat thus far so I cannot describe the meat dishes (except the doro wot). Meat is also expensive here so most people do not eat it often. Meat is common during the holidays. There is one dish that I have yet to try and I’m not sure if I will ever get the courage to try it. That is kitfo. Kitfo is most popular in this region, Gurage, so during the holidays everyone eats it and they all want me to eat it as well. Kitfo is raw meat and even though plenty of volunteers have said that they have enjoyed it I am too scared to try it. Also, I don’t know if my stomach can handle it just yet and I don’t want to have to deal with a parasite right now. Lucky for me I only have to worry about declining this dish during the holidays.

The Ethiopian Sun

When I found out Peace Corps was placing me in Ethiopia I was so excited because of the country’s proximity to the equator. I love the heat and the sun therefore I was thrilled that I would be living in a region where the sun is out 9 months out of the year. When I arrived in Ethiopia on July 3^rd however the rainy season had begun and it was cold. It was cloudy and grey every day, which made it even more difficult to go to training. And each time the rain pounded down on the tin roof all I wanted to do was stay in bed. So when the sun finally came out and revealed the beauty of Butajira I was more than happy.

            Well, now I understand why Ethiopians don’t seem to mind the rainy season too much. I actually miss the rain (I can’t believe I’m saying it). When the sun is out, it is HOT. I can hear Abigail mimicking and laughing at my whining, “It’s sooo hot.” And as I was walking home from school for lunch today, sweat dripping down my face and along my back, I asked why I had once loved the heat so much and why had I been looking forward to it? Probably because I lived in America and warm weather where I am from means swimming in cold, clear water, getting a lovely sun tan, driving in an  air conditioned car, or sitting in an air conditioned room, and drinking caramel frappucinos from Starbucks and cherry limeades from Sonic. In America, when it’s hot I can wear whatever I want. Shorts and a tank top with some flip flops. I can find ice anywhere. In Ethiopia, this is not the case. I don’t even have a fridge let alone a freezer. None of those things exist (well, you can buy a fridge here but my Peace Corps salary won’t allow for that just yet). When I am hot there is nowhere for me to escape since the sun directly faces my home in the middle of the afternoon. Ethiopia is also quite conservative. You can’t show your knees or your shoulders (well I could if I really wanted too but that’s not really the image I want to pull off while I’m here. I am trying to integrate), so I can kiss all of my tank tops goodbye, unless I wear them under my non-revealing tops.

All this to say that I get the feeling that I’m going to miss the seasons I am used to in America. It may be October but it sure doesn’t feel like it to me because all the sensations I associate with that time of year don’t exist here. Back home, I imagine the weather is getting cooler and the leaves are changing colors. People are eating pumpkin cheesecake and picking out pumpkins. I’m sure the Smokies look beautiful right now. It’s funny the things you miss when you don’t have them. I lived in Tennessee for 7 years and never appreciated the mountains. But I would love to go on a hike right now and notice all the beautiful colors or sit on the balcony at my parent’s cabin while the sun sets. Being here shows me all of the things I took for granted while I was home. Butajira is surrounded by mountains so I’m hoping I’ll be able to enjoy a beautiful hike soon and get to appreciate and enjoy where I am at today.

Finding Happiness

            I’m finding it difficult to describe how I’m feeling. I’m not sure how to put my emotions into words because I’ve never gone through anything like this before. Living in the middle of Ethiopia, on my own, surrounded by nothing that is familiar makes me speechless. There is not one day that I don’t question what I’m doing here or ask myself if I have the strength to do this. I’m finding it difficult to find what makes me happy. Every day when I wake up in the morning I get a sick feeling in my stomach. I want to stay in bed and not walk out my front gate. I roll around in my sheets for about 20 minutes before I actually have the strength to get up and face a new day. A day where I have absolutely no idea what is going to happen. Something is going to happen, something always happens whether it be good or bad. Something that is new and unfamiliar and scary. But every day I find a way to get up and go to work and when I get ready to go back to bed at night I get a feeling of relief and I can relax, for I’ve made it through another day. Even though each day gets easier and easier I continue to question my decision to be here. 

But then I think about my host family and I ask myself how could I leave tomorrow? I’ve told my community that I will be here for 2 years and I don’t think I could leave them. My host family has done so much for me just thinking about all the kindness they have brought my way brings tears to my eyes. I know I have only known them three months but I have no idea how I’m ever going to say goodbye to them when that time comes. I also see how excited the teachers at Mekicho get when I tell them my length of service. It is not often that foreigners stay as long as Peace Corps Volunteers. People here are used to seeing foreigners for a few weeks and then having them leave. Or Abigail, my landlord’s 10 year old daughter who gets so annoying when she comes into my house and touches absolutely everything that I own, yet she keeps me company and I’m so happy that she lives in my compound. She comes over after school and does her homework with me. How could I just get up and leave?

            What about the little boy that ran up to me this morning as I was walking to work and held my hand the entire way to school. In the little Amharic that I can speak I told him I was an English teacher (explaining that I’m actually a teacher trainer in Amharic is too difficult for me right now). He knows that I will be working at his school now so how would it look to just leave before I’m supposed to? I just wanted to hug that little first grader this morning for holding my hand and asking what my name was instead of screaming “ferengi” at me from across the road. You have to be careful about hugging kids because the minute you hug one of them you’ll have 100 kids behind him trying to get a hug out of you. I am expected to be here for 2 years and I owe it to all of these people to honor that promise.

            After reading one of my blog posts I had a friend from home send me a really uplifting message, a message that could not have been written at a better time. He reminded me to be myself, that people will get used to me, and to live in the moment. That when this whole experience is over I’ll be wishing I was back here. We often believe we will be happy in another place, doing something else, forgetting to be happy where we are in the present. When I was going through my last semester at UT I kept telling myself that this wasn't the place for me and I was ready for a change and that Peace Corps was that change. Now that I’m in Ethiopia I find myself thinking about all the good times I had with my friends and I’m picturing what my family is doing at this very moment wishing I was with them. We have to live in the present and be happy in the present because we will never get those moments back. We create our own happiness whether it be in America or in Ethiopia. So I’m going to keep going with this and try to find what makes me happy here. Baby sets. As they say in Amharic, “kas ba kas,” (little by little). 

On a more positive note

            I know my last blog post wasn’t the happiest one so I’m hoping this one will cheer people up about how my life is going. On top of writing my blog posts I’ve started journaling since arriving in Ethiopia. I’ve done this to make sure I don’t forget anything because time does go by fast and we tend to forget a lot of the small details. Also, I’ve found that writing helps me gather my thoughts and figure out how I’m really feeling which is helpful under these stressful situations Peace Corps is putting me through. Why am I telling you this? Well a lot of my blog posts stem from my journal entries and here’s a bit of what I started to write about tonight;

            To say that the last couple weeks have been hard is an understatement. I’ve probably had some of the most difficult days of my life. I’ve been asking myself why I decided to do this in the first place. Why did I ever want to travel halfway across the world and live in a poor country for 2 years away from all the people that I love? Through journaling I was able to answer this heavy question.

            This week I started working… well sort of. The concept of time here is a lot different so I basically just visited my school and met with the teachers and had a lot of informal conversations. But for any of you who think this is nothing you must understand the value of relationships here. To Ethiopians, relationships are everything and you can’t just start a professional one without getting to know these people on a personal level. So I’m trying to develop friendships with the teachers at my school if I ever want to get any real work done in the future and be respected. So to get to the point, here’s what I was journaling about. This morning I found myself in the teacher’s lounge talking to 3 teachers about my life and theirs’, just small talk. They asked me what kind of education I had received. When I told them I had a bachelor’s degree in global politics and economics they all smiled and laughed and said, “Oh good, then you will be an ambassador or a diplomat one day,” and I smiled back and said, “maybe I’ll be the ambassador to Ethiopia” and everyone laughed. (Honestly I haven’t really thought that far, I’m just trying to get through the next 2 years). That then led to us talking about war and peace. I won’t bore you with all the details, but basically they explained that war is not the answer. Instead, people should talk and discuss their problems. And that’s when I responded, “Exactly, just like what we are doing here. Talking together amongst different cultures and working together.” And they all smiled and agreed.  

            So as I was writing down this little exchange in my journal tonight, I was reminded of why I’m here and why I decided to join the Peace Corps in the first place. I do want to try and make this world a better place (I know how cheesy that sounds but it’s the truth). And the Peace Corps way of doing this, by building relationships with people and working with them to find sustainable solutions and helping to understand different cultures, is something that I believe in. I wouldn’t have been reminded of my purpose here unless I’d written down my thoughts and the emotions I felt today while talking to those teachers, so I’m going to keep journaling and keep all of you updated back home. Yes, I’m still having some pretty bad moments, my house doesn’t feel like home yet, and I still haven’t established a routine, but it’s the conversations and the exchanges that I have with people that change my mood and bring me those positive memories that I can write about (unless people call me Money, then I have a problem). 

First week alone in Butajira

Up to this point I feel like my blog reflects a pretty positive image of my experience. Not that I have been lying in my past posts, but I have definitely left out many of my negative moments. I think we tend to romanticize Peace Corps life when really it’s far from it. As our director and the rest of Peace Corps has reiterated to us several times, “Peace Corps is the toughest job we’ll ever love”. Well at this point I don’t love it to be perfectly honest. I’ve been in my house in Butajira for a week now. I’m all alone and my house is practically empty. The only thing I’ve managed to buy is bed and a stove, which only works when the power is on, obviously, and the power has been going out every day for at least a couple hours which I do not understand why since the rainy season is practically over. I have peanut butter and bread at all times just in case I get ready to cook and the power goes out.

I have a shint bet and a shower room which are outside of course. I finally got used to the shint bet at my host family’s compound and now I have to get used to a whole new one (not all shint bets are the same). Several people live on my compound. There is my landlord and her family (she has 2 young kids and they’ve kept me company which is nice). There are also 3 other people that rent rooms from the landlord. My house is at the very end of the compound. In the middle of the compound there is the water faucet. Unfortunately we don’t have water all day so whenever there is water I have to fill up my bucket. (At my host family’s house we had water all the time so I never faced this issue). I’ve never had to think about my water usage because I’ve always had as much water as I could possibly want. Now I have to learn to ration it. Since there is no plumbing I don’t have a sink so what do I use? I’ve had to buy plastic buckets. Buckets are a Volunteer’s best friends. I’m lucky to have my water filter to use as a faucet. Since I have yet to buy a table (I need to do that next week), I have raised my water filter on my blue bucket (the same bucket that I store my water in). I have my orange bucket on the floor, this way when I use the water filter, the water falls straight into the bucket. I also use a bucket for washing dishes. I don’t know why I ever complained about washing dishes in the states. I hate washing my dishes here. It is such a process. Hopefully I’ll get faster at doing it. Even though I have much less water here then I did back in America I still have enough to shower, keep myself clean, wash my dishes, drink, and for cooking. Not having much water and still getting by makes me realize the ridiculous amount of water I used back home. But still, it takes a bit of time to get used to. A week sure isn’t long enough to get used to it.

All in all Peace Corps is hard. Living like this when you are used to having everything is difficult. Being in my house alone is the worst part though. Living with a host family was definitely not the best situation, however there were always people there and they helped me with whatever I needed. They also took care of everything for me so I never had to worry about having enough plastic buckets for all my daily chores. And my house does not feel like home at the moment. Right now it’s just 2 rooms with all my stuff laid out on the floor.

I’ve had to remind myself to step outside of my house everyday so I don’t become crazy or get depressed. However, this isn’t as simple as it sounds. I’ve met some really great people, but there is not one day that I walk outside and I don’t get some kind of harassment. This is enough to keep me locked in my house all day. Children seem to think I’m made of money. Every time I walk outside I have kids yelling, “Money, money, money.” I know it’s not entirely their fault. I can understand why they do this. This is the image they get of America from the films they watch and all the NGOs that come in and throw money at their country. The majority of Americans do have a lot more money than Ethiopians, but that doesn’t mean I have enough to hand out to everyone. And when I go back to America I won’t have any money. In fact I’m several thousand dollars in debt. But of course you can’t explain this to a 10 year old Ethiopian. Peace Corps does not give us a huge salary either. In fact, the budget of Peace Corps worldwide is equal to one day of the United States in Iraq. And that budget has to be split between the over 50 countries that Peace Corps is currently serving. So, “no kids, I have no money and that is not my name”. And if I were to give a kid on the street some money, then they would all expect it. And I have to live here for 2 years so I can’t start handing out birr (Ethiopian currency) to all of them. It’s not only the children that yell, “Money, money, money.” Yesterday I had an adult woman ask me for money. It wasn’t a homeless woman either. She asked me this right before stepping into her house. I’ve also seen adults smiling and laughing when kids call me money, so if the parents are not seeing a problem with this then it’s no surprise that they keep saying it. Some other things that I hear when I walk in town are “Ferengi, ferengi,” or “China, China, China.” Kids will also scream from across the street, “HELLO, HELLO, WHAT IS YOUR NAME?” This may seem harmless, but if you are screaming this at me from across the road I will not respond to you. You need to come up to me and ask me politely. Just because I’m American does not mean I’ve got some superhuman qualities. I’m a person just like them. Some would say I am lucky though, because I haven’t had anyone throw rocks at me yet. A lot of Volunteers experience this. I guess this is the whole point of Peace Corps though, to build relationships with people so they can understand you and you can understand them. It’s just that some days I can’t stand it. I just want to yell back at them to shut up. Of course I know that wouldn’t get me anywhere and only make the situation worse. Some days it doesn’t bother me, but if I’m having a bad day this kind of verbal harassment is enough to make me stay home. I can’t walk anywhere without people staring. The amount of attention I get is ridiculous. It’s frustrating to have everyone constantly watching you.

So there’s my rant. I apologize for the negative tone to this blog however this is something that all Volunteers face so I think it is important that people back home realize that we are not living a fun, exciting, adventure. We face struggles every day that go beyond having to use a shint bet. A lot of it is psychological, like the verbal harassment and the realization that we are living alone, in the middle of Ethiopia among people who speak a language that we are trying desperately to understand but still struggling with.