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.