The Little Things

This week, I have been asked by a student to no longer be his teacher, slept only five hours multiple nights in a row, battled a queazy stomach, gotten blisters and bruises, and been apart from my family for Christmas for the first time. This life is rough. But in the hectic, crazy, frustrating life, it's the little blessings that remind me of God's love for me, the love surrounding me in this community, and the peace that I am where God has led me.

On returning from trainings in Addis, I found out that no one had covered my classes for the week that I was gone. My students were now a week behind the rest of Grade Nine and needed to get through 4 units in four weeks before the final. Monday was spent with prepositions with the help of a nerf (American) football and a stuffed animal elephant. Day two was comparative and superlative adjectives where I went back to the unit's theme of food and brought in lemon (sour), chocolate (sweet), orange (juicy), sambusa (greasy) and popcorn (salty). Students were shocked when they tasted salty popcorn. Here, it is often served plain or with sugar. Never with salt! One student said "This is different. But I like it!" Differences don't have to be bad. Day 3 fell on Christmas Eve for some and Christmas Day for other classes. Present Passive and Punctuation were themed with Jesus and Saint Nicolas. After class a student asked if I was going to America for Christmas. When I said no, he was befuddled. Family is always together for holidays. He responded (in English) "Don't be sad. We are your family." Friday was a review with stations for the first time that I was worried wouldn't go over well. Students loved it. One student (the one who told me every day that week that I should go to a different class) referred to me as "my teacher," wished me a good weekend and said learning was actually fun today. I cannot predict what will happen in my classes. I sometimes feel it is a YL skit that I am doing in two languages, but It is little moments like these that make me smile and keep going. There's joy students get when we play football at break. The acceptance that different and bad are not synonyms. Christmas is celebrated differently, but family is still important.

Every past Christmas Eve I have folded bulletins, sang Christmas hymns, listened to my Dad's sermon, bundled up in thick coats, and snuck homemade caramels before bed. This year I taught in the morning, cleaned my room, sent late Christmas cards (sorry friends) and didn't listen to a single Christmas song. However, that night one of my friends called me after his shift teaching and asked to go grab tea. We ended up walking for an hour out under the stars talking about life, family, distance, and goals in our lives. We did drink tea, laugh, create more inside jokes before I headed home for bed. My friend is Muslim. Not only is Christmas not in the Ethiopian calendar, it is not in his. Yet he knew what it is like to be away from family on holidays and wanted to make sure I was doing okay. He encouraged me to be strong and not to be sad, even if I do miss my family and friends. He also made me promise him to call him if I didn't have any Christmas plans as he knew my two American site mates were out of town. It's in the little things of walking and sharing a cup of tea that make the biggest difference.

Christmas Day I was walking back from the post office where packages and letters still haven't arrived when some students called me over to a suk. One was hitting around a football. We ended up playing pass volleyball style with the ball which attracted more people. Soon we we're standing in a circle playing volleyball under the hot afternoon sun. The student from my class is one who is quiet, doesn't participate on topic often, rarely speaks in English, always whispers to friends in Tigrigna and is full of energy. We ended up playing for an hour and a half before I had to go somewhere. On Friday, the student was all smiles and on topic. He explained (in Tigrigna and English) that yesterday was the happiest he has ever been. He thanked me for playing and wants to do it again sometime. I told him would should play in English next time and he was fine with that. It is the little things of playing, joy, happiness and smiles that encourage me to keep on going even when I am discouraged by the post office or a lesson plan doesn't go like it was supposed to.

About once a week a small group of school people get together for coffee ceremonies. As I was going to be gone to Adwa this weekend, they changed it to Thursday, unaware that Thursday was Christmas. The host, an English teacher from the opposite shift, made Silsi, shiro, injera and halibet (a whipped, white bean spread with lots of garlic). We crowded around the plate and laughed and joked as we all dug in, bumping elbows. They looked for a Christmas movie on TV and made up Christmas songs to sing. We are all so different. There was a Muslim, couple of Orthodox Christians and a Protestant. Our language skills range dramatically. Christmas is celebrated in different ways at different times. Yet, they had made me a red and white delicious meal (with 6 rounds of coffee) for Christmas. Little things.

Bummers happen in this life. Nothing is ever smooth sailing without flaws. Frustrations come up. But God sent Jesus (time doesn't really matter as much as the fact that He DID send him) to our crazy lives to open up a relationship with him. He put me in a community where i am loved and reminded of my purpose everyday with the smiles and light bulb moments in the classroom. Differences of religions aren't barriers unless we make them separate us from an individual. It's the little things that are God's blessings.

Jessie's Christmas "Card" -- sent before Ethiopian Christmas!

This year I’ve traversed through 10-11 time zones
Seen differences in weather, cultures, and phones.

From familiar and known to new, from here to there It’s time to reflect on God’s role this year with care.

This year started in freezing Pennsylvania snow Wondering when my delayed plane would ever go. But back to Spokane, Washington I went Where I subbed daily (K-12) trying to make a dent.

Dad came cross-country to bring me a new, red car Though I had to learn stick if I wanted to go far. Peace Corps’ invitation brought paperwork galore, But nothing could lessen the excitement or allure.

Graduations and weddings took June by fury Making good-byes for two years come way too early. On June 28th I bid the Northwest adieu, Off to DC to meet my 70 comrades crew.

The 13-hour flight on July 2nd was a drag. We arrived in Addis with horrible jet lag. Long meetings filled first week in Ethiopia. Then a two-hour drive south to Butajira.

Host families, new friends and training filled PST With strange food, trying new things, and lots of hot tea. Having a cold, wet summer was something quite new While balancing Amharic and Tigrigna, too.

After celebrating the Ethiopian New Year 2007, Forengi food in Addis tasted like heaven. On 9/19 I swore in for Peace Corps’ 2 year stay. The next morning I flew out up north to Tigray.

School got underway with three classes of 70. With daily class work and friends, little time is free. I’m in different clubs and do coffee ceremonies, Volleyball, soccer, and play with kids in the hot breeze.

God has been with me through the good, hard, and new I hope and pray you’ve seen Him working in you, too. I do not know what 2015 will hold, But God gives us the courage to trust and be bold.

I presented a report

This past Tuesday while in Addis I presented a report about my town. While my research paper (known as an Education Needs Assessment ENA) was 34 pages with multiple charts, pictures and analysis, my presentation could only be 5 minutes. Here is what I presented without the fun slides. If you have questions or want additional information, please ask…I do have 34 pages of paper to refer to.

 

Selekleka is in the Medebay Zana Woreda in the Northwest region of Tigray, Ethiopia. Overall Selekleka is 97.8% Orthodox Christian, 2% Muslim, and less than 1% Protestant Christians. While this woreda [a woreda is the equivalent of a county in the states] has 58 primary schools, 2 secondary schools, and 1 Preparatory School, Selekleka has 3 primary, 1 secondary and the only Preparatory School.

 

My school is Hakfen Secondary School. Due to there being so few schools, many of my students travel great distances from various villages and surrounding areas to school. The school was originally founded in 1992 EC (Ethiopian Calendar or 1999 Gregorian calendar) with 9 teachers and 593 Grade 9 students. This year (2007 E.C.) there are 54 teachers, 1 director, 2 vice directors, 7 additional staff and 2,095 students. Of these 947 are male and 1,148 females. The average class size is 70. There is no t.v. programmed classes as electricity and connection is unavailable. There are many clubs at my school registered (Anti- HIV Club, Mini Media Club, Sons and Technology Club, Literature and Drama, Sport Club, Civics and Ethics Club, Anti-Traffic Club, Population Media Club, Tax for Government Club, Girls’ Club, English Club, Environmental Protection Club, ICT Club, Tomorrow’s Teachers Club). I have attended meetings with the Civics and Ethics Club, Tomorrow’s Teachers Club and English Club.

 

I teach three classes that total 209 students. Of these 104 are male and 105 are male. This creates an even split between genders, which is uncommon as, usually there are more males than females. I have one class of 71 registered students, another of 65, and a final of 73.

 

I conducted a skills assessment report with my students that provided the results that listening, reading, writing and speaking are all low for my students. This is to be expected as the format of the test was unfamiliar, I am unfamiliar to them, and the language is foreign. Reading and listening scored the lowest overall averages.

 

In order to improve students understanding and use of knowledge I intend to adapt my personal teaching plan to incorporate the things that have helped throughout the semester and what I want to try. Visuals and routines are two of the biggest things that I have used this semester that I have made a positive impact on the student output. Picture sentence cards that I made for my students helped. The nouns or subjects are green while the verbs are blue. I originally started teaching them present perfect where they just had to pair two cards that matched the formula we had practiced together on the board. The first time I tried this there was confusion. But by making it a routine for learning, practicing and reviewing verb tenses through the first three unit of the book, students can now make different sentences very quickly. I want to improve documenting informal assessment so that I can refer to it more reliable for data analysis on student participation and learning.

 

Also, there are many potential proposed extracurricular activities that I could do. Currently the English Club is just focused on maintaining English Day where the entire school tries to be an English only zone. I want to expand this into larger and smaller groups at different skill levels. I have been a guest for the Civics and Ethics Club and want to continue to do that. A teacher has expressed interest in planting a garden and teaching our students the importance of a healthy diet and how to properly maintain a garden. I want to follow up with him on the possibility of a Garden and Nutrition Club. Finally, one of my site-mates and I have discussed starting a Creative Writing Club to foster authentic work.

 

I also want to help teachers improve their personal and profession goals for education. In order to understand their needs and desires, I intend to do personal surveys and questionnaires. What I have gathered from informal interviews is that my co-teachers really want to practice English. I have had it explained to me, multiple times, that they are confident on the grammatical structures, but not speaking. Possibly having English clubs where we just hang out and talk in English would be beneficial. Other teachers have mentioned observing me, so I need to be open in order to allow them to do this.

Any questions?

So, that was my presentation. Like the majority of my volunteer buddies, I didn’t quite stay in the 5 minute requirement, but I was definitely not the longest person speaking. So, if you have any questions about what I intend to do or what I researched comment below or email me! J

Okay Let’s Talk Food

With all the talk about holiday foods and traditions, I battle an odd conflict between Americna foods and comfort Ethiopian foods. As I can’t have my Dad’s caramels no matter how hard I imagine them, I suppose I might as well let you all know what are some of the strange new foods I’ve fallen in love with.

Gomen Salata: (Cabbage Salad)
This was first introduced to me by my teacher buddy slash Tigrigna tutor a couple of weeks ago. It’s pretty basic, but amazingly good. Chop cabbage. Squeeze a lime over. Sprinkle on some salt. When I am feeling ambitious I shred a carrot (I have a peeler that I just keep pealing) and then cut it up and add in or other veggies you find at market. I originally ate it with injera which was good, but sometimes I just eat it plain to keep starch out of a meal.

Shiro
Ethiopian friends laugh when I tell them this is my go to meal. They claim there is no nutritional benefit in shiro, but boy does it taste good. First chop an onion. Sautée in oil. After onion is soft add water. I usually add an overripe tomatoe that has been cut and mashed at the same time. Cover and wait for it to reboil. Add a large spoonful of shiro powder. Mix in. Turn down temperature. Stir occasionally. Add lots of garlic! This is amazing with injera or bread. If it cooks too hot and becomes thicker it’s name changes to tagamino. Ether way, if there are left overs, it goes amazing with scambled eggs for breakfast.

Silsi
This is not my favorite dish as it is usually very spicy, but I have started to develop the liking for it. In a pan sautee onions in lots of oil. Once hot and bubbling add burbary (hot chilly) to taste. Keep over flame so it stays nice and hot. Add chopped garlic and hot peppers and serve.

Silsi Bisaba (Silsi with Milk)
For those of you who know my eating habits, you know that soggy bread was always a huge NO-NO! in my otherwise unpicky appetite. I have given up this vendetta and now enjoy soggy things. One of my favorites is milk with silsi in it. The milk is fresh and silsi adds the perfect taste to it. Dipping pieces of injera is the only way to eat this. Though it takes awhile to soup up all the liquid, it’s delicious.

Fata (Mixed up goodness!)
This takes everything I love and mixes it together for perfection! First you rip up pieces of bread. Then add silsi, tomatoes, and yogurt. Mix it all together and eat with a spoon. Add salt for tasted. Yes it sounds disgusting. Yes I am not adequately describing it. But it’s so good. If you order it for som (fasting) instead of yogurt they will put peanutbutter, lettuce, onion and hot peppers. This is not my favorite. Yogurt, although different than American, is amazing!

So, while all of you are decorating sugar cookies, sipping hot chocolate, consuming large quantites of meat, or having caramels stick to the roof of your mouth, these are some of the foods I am enjoying. I will try to get some pictures up for you, though you may have to wait till next week when I am in Addis for IST (In Service Training).

Dec.1, 2014 Here is a Thanksgiving blog:

“Because a thankful heart is a happy heart.

I’m glad for what I have that’s an easy way to start.

                  For the love that He shares as he listens to my prayers.

That’s why I say thanks everyday.” – Junior Asparagus (VeggieTales)




It’s tricky to be thankful when the network is not allowing you to call

your family, but it’s in the hard times when being thankful is most

important. So, while I wait to get connected here is what I’m thankful for. 

Sunscreen for sunshine and aloe when nose is red

Peanut butter and Nutella on fresh himbassha bread

Fresh fruit like oranges, bananas, cactus and zaytoons

My ipad with books, stories and jammin’ tunes

Safe gate, dripping shower and flushing toilet

My bed nightly cloaked in a mosquito net

Kids coming up to me to twirl and spin

God’s patience, guidance and forgiving all my sin

Kids, teacher buddies and Tigrigna tutor

Playing volleyball that makes my arms sore

My support system of friends and family

A house to call my own where I can just be

Getting surprised letters and/or packages in the mail

Having a blast while learning Braille!

PC friends I would bend backwards for

Students eager and excited to learn more

Eating shiro, injera, ga’at or pancakes

Weekends are definitely needed breaks

Water filter leaves me healthy and parasite free

On cold days, drinking tiny cups of coffee or hot tea

Learning more ways to practice patience

Being in town full of hospitality and acceptance

Market fresh veggies and foods without saturated fats

Avoiding camels, dogs, donkeys, goats, chickens and many cats

Long walk to school gives tan lines from chacos

Internet to get Facebook messages from my bros

Inside jokes that always leave us laughing

My own worship sessions of praying and singing

These are all great, but above all

I’m thankful to follow God’s call


I hope and pray you all have an amazing Thanksgiving. Try to find

something daily to be thankful for…especially when it is hard. You will be

surprised how much you can think of when you aren’t expecting it.











Universals Nov 18

                  There are some things that I’ve noticed in Ethiopia that occur in America too. However, how I deal with them has shifted based on where I am. 
For example, bananas going brown. The feeling of not wasting anything is a universal. No matter the cost of the original item, it is important that it is used while it is still good. Throwing out food because it wasn’t eaten quickly enough is a shame. In the States whenever bananas started to go brown I would whip out a batch of banana muffins or a loaf of banana bread. This week I attempted to make banana pancakes without a nonstick pan. It sort of worked out. This also goes for tomatoes, carrots, cabbage and other veggies from market day.

         
           Craving certain foods when sick. I don’t know about the rest of you, but when I am getting over something and start to want food again (who really likes food when they are sick?) I have cravings for certain things. When I was sick in Butajira I wanted my Grandma’s Cindy’s chicken noodle soup. It’s thick, rich, creamy, and delicious. Yesterday as I was getting over something I ate the day before, I craved shiro. Shiro? The thick, slightly spicy, paste eaten with injera or bread. Why? I don’t know, but it sure did taste good.

          
         Drink Tea = Medicine. Yesterday when I had to cancel plans to stay in bed, the first advice given to me was “Drink tea.” My landlady made sure that I had plenty of tea before leaving me alone. This happens state side too. When I would wake up with a cough or not feeling well, Grandma would always give me a large, hot cup of tea first thing. I’m not sure about the medicinal qualities of this drink, but it seems to help. 


                   Sports are serious. I’ve grown up in the world of sports. My brothers and dad talking about so and so and some statistic in football, basketball and mostly baseball. I don’t know all the statistics, names and facts like they do, but I could be okay at a baseball game. However, this week I realized my incompetence in this field. Teacher friends taught me all about the Ethiopian football team (whose lost to Algeria 1-3 on Sunday) and who was who for Manchester United, Manchester City and Chelsea. Grade Nine boys taught me all the catch phrases for the great WWE wrestlers complete with the entrance moves. They then tested me on them. Being a fan, supporting something grander than one person, is universal. The focus of such fan-dom may be different though.

        
         Clothes don’t wash themselves. Laundry didn’t really bother me ever. Growing up it was my weekend chore to wash and fold all the laundry for the Sexton 5. It didn’t bother me. I’d pop in a movie and get it done. In college I went to grandparents’ every other weekend and did it there. If an emergency came up I would get some quarters and do it on my own. The laundry machine is a luxury I will never take for granted again. Once I get started on the bucket washes, it’s not that bad. The numbing activity lets your mind wander to other things. It’s getting started that’s a drag. It also is important to do it when there is water and the sun is out, two things that sporadically aren’t reliable.

         
         School Vacations. Some schools in the states cancel school for hunting or harvest time. Administration realizes the importance of these and would rather not have students skip. As rainy season has ended a couple months ago, it is time for harvest. However, the sound of thunder rumbles. The fear of a crop getting spoiled by the rain in a highly agricultural environment leads to school being cancelled Monday – Thursday this week. Students are needed to help their families. However, unlike the States where the make up time is scheduled throughout the school year, here they want to make it up as soon as possible. So, I have school Friday – Sunday this week and next weekend. Which means I will teach from November 21 – December 5 without a day off. There would be a mutiny if weekends were jeopardized in America!    


                 Birthdays are cause for celebration. On Sunday I went to a 3 year old’s birthday party. He was dressed adorably in new clothes (dark jeans, white button up shirt, black suspenders, bow tie). I expected there to be lots of kids around like all birthday parties I’ve been too. Instead, there were mostly adults sitting around and talking. As soon as I got inside I was given an over-flowing plate of hambasha, popcorn (fandusha), animal crackers, and candy. We then sat around and talked for a while. They put a sparkler in a fresh ambasha, lit two candles, and a candle shaped like a number 3 for pictures. However, they didn’t have the kid blow them out. Instead he had to cut the hambasha. Hats that annoy kids with the plastic string around then chins, numbered candles, song, pictures and grandparents coming are some ways birthdays are celebrated the same here and there.


                 I suppose this blog could also be called: Things I’ve Learned About Myself. 1. I hate wasting food. 2. My food cravings have shifted. 3. Tea is amazing! 4. Love sports. 5. I dislike washing clothes by hand. 6. School is throwing off my grove. 7. Life is a good thing to celebrate. But, that is too self-centered to convey all I am thinking. I’ve lived and traveled through multiple cultures, but I haven’t seen or experienced them all. Reflecting on the similarities and differences between two, sparks interest in learning about others. How do people adapt to the availability of food? What do you do when bananas or other food start to get brown? What random cravings do you have? What food or drinks are your comforts when you are sick? Who are you a fan of? How do you adapt to changes in your schedule? What does your culture value over education? How are birthdays celebrated? Are they just for kids or adults too? I smile as I think that I’ve only been in site for 7 weeks. How much more will I learn and adapt in the next 89?











Not Homesick Nov 8

         In the opening scene of Robin William’s Patch Adams has peaceful piano music as he states,  “All the restless hearts are trying to find a way home.” And questions “How far away home can be?” But then he defines it:  “Home. The dictionary defines home as both a place of origin and a goal or destination.” As I come to the blue and gold gate from an exhausting long night out, I realize what is making Selekleka home to me.

                This past year as my family moved around, my dad coined the phrase “Home is where your pillow is.” Home: The safe place where you can go and relax enough to sleep. Where your worries and anxieties can be left out. My room is my home. No matter how exhausting my day is or how many times I question where I am, I am grounded in a safe compound in block 55. It may not be the address on my driver’s license or where the mail is delivered, but it’s home.

                I can leave on weekends to Axum or Shire. I used to want to go. To get internet. To connect back with home. I haven’t been in three weeks. It’s not that I don’t want to connect or that I am forgetting all my loved ones back in America, but I love being in Selekleka. I love the busyness of market day and running into people I know everywhere. I love having kids run up to me to twirl. I love going to a pool house/suk in the evenings to hang out with teachers and friends of all ages. The weekly coffee ceremony dates and free time with compound friends are precious. Home is where you are loved and love back.

                Maybe it’s just me, or the fact that everyone knows one of my site mates is in America, but more people have asked me if I am homesick and missing America. I do. I miss calling my mom about any and everything. I miss bike rides and baking with my dad. I miss super hero movies and gummy worms with my brothers. I miss my friends and the goofy, fun things we do together. I miss sewing and watching “Mysteries at the Museum” with my grandparents. I miss church. But I’m not homesick.

                 Although no one can be replaced, I do have a landlady who makes sure I have sugar after the famine ended and watches out for me like a parent. Today she made me bread. I hang out with goofy teachers and do fun things. I have friends here that would help me in a heartbeat if needed. I play with children. I text people that care about me. I talk with people about religion. I am safe. I am loved. I love. I am home.











Oh Life November 8

                  Oh life. This wonderful, crazy, hectic, fulfilling, complexing, blessed life I am living right now never ceases to amaze me. Minutes and hours fly by through laughter, tears, headaches, questions, and plenty of dust. I collapse into bed every night eager for the next day to arrive. Now I pause. I breathe. I reflect. I smile. Here are some of my stories. 
         He stands still trying to hold back the laughter that is bubbling up inside him. She laughs as she smears chalk on his charcoal skin. Another girl drapes a shawl over her head as she twirls in her floral dress. A tiny boy rolls up a pant legs and takes off his shoes. All of us in the room radiate the excitement and anticipation for the drama we are about to do.

                   On Friday (08 Nov.) students stayed ten minutes after school to watch a drama by the Civics Club on the importance of English. There was an aging farmer, his wife and child and translator. I was invited to play a forengi. (a foreigner) The scene opened with the farmer and his wife talking about how they don’t have anything and praying to God to send help. Then I walk in, newly arrived in the area and not knowing any Tigrigna, asking where the hospital is. Miscommunication insues to the delight of the audience. While the skit was comedic it was also very true. Many people assume that forengi, foreign people, come with the intent to give handouts. The translator had to explain that I was here for another reason, as many forengies are. In the end, the parents decided that they were going to make sure that their son went to school even in harvest season to learn English. A dream I hope many parents have. 
        

                   Six, colored balls are braced against either side for the green felt field. A lone dark blue one waits at the end for the crack of wood hitting the white one. He bends low. His strong fingers extend as the wood slides over the notch of thumb and forefinger. The backhand tests the feel of wood as his eyes evaluate angles. There is a holding of breath and then CRACK! The game has begun.

         Although every dormitory at Whitworth houses a pool table, I never took up the game. Even if I had, the only advantage it would have here is the proper technique to hit the cue ball. Everything else is different: the rules, the play of the game, the scoring. It’s all foreign to me. The pool hall is owned by one of the teachers and is a popular place for teachers to congregate in the afternoon/evenings. I was called in about two weeks for the first time. Little did I know it was going to become a habit I look forward to.

                 Along two walls of the medium size room are benches that can fit about 6 adults. You have to be aware of the game or you will get a stick or player in your face as the corridors are close. Although one end is opened up to the crisp night air, the concentration, frustration, excitement and bodies warm up the room like a fireplace at Christmas. Even though it’s cramped, it’s a relief. I listen to conversations encouraged by how much more I understand than when I first came. I write down new words in Tigrigna to the delight of those teaching me. Although I am an atrociously horrible player, and crave a sport I am good at (basketball is going to happen a.s.a.p. when I get state side), I love the community and atmosphere that swirls around it. 
        

                  Beneath the bottled water caked in dust stands an orange yellow counter. The scale to one side is forgotten, as there are no products to measure it with now. A glass pane shows ants crawling over expired candies. Tea cups with lemons stand steaming off to one side. It is here we stand. Bending over papers as the evening light turns navy. We laugh as mispronunciation occurs changing meanings, or one decides to act out for clarity the scroll we are looking at. Everything else is forgotten as we piece together letters, words, sentences, meanings. Our pens are eager for new words: His for English, Mine for Tigrigna. 

                  What was the childhood book you had your parents, babysitters, older siblings read to you over and over and over again? When did your brain switch from listening to reading along? “At one magical instant in your early childhood, the page of a book – that string of confused, alien ciphers – shivered into meaning. Words spoke to you, gave up their secrets; at that moment, whole universes opened. You became, irrevocably, a reader.” (Alberto Manguel) I am on the journey to that instant moment.

                  While I started going to the pool hall to develop relationships with coworkers outside of the school compound, my time has morphed into the next room. Here is a suk (also owned by teacher) where he and his younger brother (a delightfully clever Grade 9 student) teach me Tigrigna. Others filter in and out, but we spend hours each night learning new vocabulary. In the last couple days I have been given sentences to translate into English. This is extremely difficult, as I do not know the majority of the words used in the sentences or the grammar rules used to construct complex sentences. However, it is greatly beneficial. I start to see patterns and make connections through the complex maze of letters. Handwriting preferences never were more obvious to me or the affect it has on the learning process before. Most importantly it shows me first hand what my students must think when I hand them a reading passage in class. How can I adapt my teaching to my new styles?











Eggs in Hand

With two dirty eggs in my sweaty palms, I started passing a soccer ball around with a little boy on my way home from marker. After awhile another boy came to introduce himself and play. We probably played for 20 minutes before I found a chance to thank them for playing and greatfully put down the two unbroken eggs. A week latter, while carrying eggs I met a girl who has now become my shadow when I walk in that part of town. Yesterday, while carrying half a dozen eggs in a thin bag in my hands, I laughed as 8 children clustered around to be taught the fist bump. They don’t like the originally single pound. They prefer the up-down-side-to-side-and-then-front-on pound version much better. Of course you can’t do it just once to get the hang of it. It was a bit of a trick to jostle eggs while watching out for all the fists and faces that are right at elbow level.

While I know approximately how long it takes to get between two points, the children are always a blessed unaccountable factor. They love to talk. They love to ask questions as their curiosity bubbles overs. They love to laugh at me or us. While I may be extremely hungry or tired as I carry eggs, I feel so blessed to stop and play. They remind me of what really counts in the day. Even though I have yet to break an egg while playing, I know the day will come and we will laugh about it.

Altered circumstances or conditions arise daily. Meetings are rescheduled or the person I need to talk to is in another meeting. The power goes on and off as does the cell service. It gets dark around 6:30 sending me to my room to cook and fill the evening hours. I figure there are two things I can do when these unexpectancies come up: 1. I can get frustrated, mad, upset and blame others for the way things go. 2. I can adapt to go with the flow and see what happens. My parents told us we could never complain unless we were willing to fix it, so option 2 is where I choose to go. It’s like a puzzle. I have to keep trying different options than what I first originally thought in order to get a clear picture. 

Flexible

The dictionary defines flexible as:

“adjective

capable of bending easily without breaking 

•able to be easily modified to respond to altered circumstances or conditions

• (of a person) ready and able to change so as to adapt to different circumstances”

Life is teaching me it’s saying “okay then” to random events and making the most of whatever unforseenness has occurred.

Flag Day:

     The chipping, once solid white line is barely visible on either side of the road under the brightly colored plastic shoes of hundreds of 9^th and 10^th graders. Teal uniforms flank each side of the road like trees on a path. Girls, walking in the left lane, whisper and giggle to each other. Boys, on the right, try to talk about the latest football game. The occasional bus, bajaj (mini blue taxies), or car slows down to go smoothly down the middle avoiding teachers and administrators walking or biking to keep track of the students. I smile. An hour ago I was walking along this same road wondering if the tactile manipulates would actually work as my lesson plan suggested. Unbeknownst to me then, today was Flag Day. A holiday celebration for the students that (according to a teacher) was started 7 years ago by an Ethiopian who was intrigued by America’s tradition. So, instead of teaching about present simple and progressive verb tenses, I waited for the police to direct our group down to the very open dirt market space. As students looped around the area songs continued to play. A curious three year old in French braids and a yellow dress, came up to hold my hand. Her smile lit up even more as I sunk down next to her to ask about her name and notice her beautiful purple fingernail polish. Sanding and swaying to music bypasses the language barrier all together. Two flags (one Ethiopian and Tigrignian) were raised into the clear blue sky by the police as the national anthem cracked through speakers to the students and on-lookers. There was a speech that only half came through the mutters of those next to me and then we were all released.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t start that walk back to town unfrazzled. I was. I hadn’t been told about the ceremony (like other events) which is irritating. Holding that little girl’s hand, reminded me that it doesn’t matter. My day was still pretty great even though it wasn’t like I had planned. Sure, my weekly lesson plan wasn’t going to conquered completely, and I didn’t have my camera for the ceremony, but I’d made another memory that was even better just for going with the flow.

Buna Ceremonies:

Dense corn injera is lightly dusted with a hot spice. Corn is roasting over charcoal turning the tips of the yellow kernels black. Dark, rich, strong, bitter liquid sloshes around my white tiny cup on saucer. Which number cup this? I am no longer sure. While there are only three rounds in the traditional buna ceremony, there is no set number of cups per round.

There are two shifts at my school: morning and afternoon. Each shift is composed of 6 periods with a half hour break between 3^rdand 4^th. This week I taught in the morning shift. Next week, I have afternoon shift. Like the British with their tea time, coffee ceremonies tend to be during the afternoon. Although the taste of coffee is not my forte, I could not say no to Mama when she insisted I come for a traditional buna ceremony on Saturday, Monday, or Wednesday. Wednesday I’d made it to round three (possibly four cups) when one of my site mates dropped by. Being completely hospitably, Mama offered her a cup and injera. She then restarted the ceremony so that Stephanie could get her three rounds in. I possibly ended with 8 cups…maybe 9.

The unexpectancy of buna ceremonies changes my plans of what I get done in a day. I never know when an invitation is going to be issued. But having time to tell Mama about my family and friends in America, talk with compound friends about what is happening in our days, and taking a break is all worth it. I learn more about them as people and the language than I could ever learn by studying flashcards in my room.   

Free Time:

     Two dinner size tables are pushed together in the staff room. A couple chairs pushed around it. A box of chalk sits alone at one end. Various stairs papers are left around. It’s outside on one of the many the stairs where fellow staff memories sit under the shade during their free time between classes. It’s here on these steps inside jokes, precious memories, debates about English grammar and Tigrignian lessons take place for me.

     On Thursday I delighted one of the math teachers, by allowing him to teach me and giving him feedback to make it easier to understand for students. He even gave me homework on different functions to learn and new verbs to memorize. Other English teachers come up to look at my teaching aids and ask to borrow them. The physics and biology teacher laugh when I state their subjects, but remind me that so is English.

     Although I could leave when I am finished teaching, I stay. I stay for the laughs. I stay The conversations that flirt between Tigrigna and English. I stay to continue to building relationships that brighten my day.

Ordinary Selekleka

        My life is mundane and ordinary--making an interesting blog seemingly impossible. Then, I realize that life, even in the ordinary parts of my day, are still different than anything I thought I would experience. So here is a blog full of ordinary events in my life.

         My aquamarine room is about 15 feet by 9 feet. There is one silver metal door and one window looking out into the courtyard of the compound.  A gauzy film of a mosquito net cloaks a twin size metal framed bed at night and is pulled back to make a comfortable place to work during the day. A rickety tan wood table is weighed under by a single electrical burner, fresh ambassa, garlic, bananas, and other fresh vegetables; besides a water filter. Under the window, across from the bed another more stable wooden table stands draped in a purple khanga, above it is a map of Ethiopia with arrows marking locations of PC friends. It’s the breach between studies once done in another country (Tanzania) and a place to prepare for new ones here. Off to the right is a square suitcase that started the year in Pennsylvania, repurposed now as a dresser. A plastic woven rug, yellow, dark blue and deep magenta, covers the cracking gray concrete floor. Pictures of people I love smile down on me as I gaze about the room making me feel wrapped in love and support. Quotes and words of encouragements remind me to keep things in perspective. It’s an ordinary room, but it is mine.

         After I tripped for the 15th time in a ten-minute walk this morning I couldn’t help but question my klutziness. Was I always so clumsy and just didn’t realize it? Then it dawned on me how “trip free” the environments I’ve lived in actually are. Sidewalks are usually paved, flat, and four inches above the street. Roads are paved. Paths are worn down with minimal obstructions in the way of my toes. Sometimes they even have pebbles or barkchips covering them. Selekleka has one wide paved main road with a wide shoulder painted in. The sidewalk is constructed from two foot high concrete blocks lined up one after the other. Going up and off these can be tricky. All the other roads/paths in the town are good old-fashioned rock and dirt. Some places, where summer rains caused excessive runoff, are more rocky and tricky to navigate than others, but every path has rocks scatter throughout the path. Between rocks and animal droppings it’s like navigating through a life size maze. But, oh, the places one can go!

         As I don’t have a refrigerator or way to store an excess of produce and goods, it’s normal to go to the market or small corner stores called shuks daily. I’ve started to use the time to practice my Tigrigna and build relationships. Children cluster around me like a magnet. Their friendly, curious faces searching for an explanation to my presence. Even if they saw me earlier, the young ones always ask my name. Women selling tomatoes, onions, guavas, and corn smile as I walk by and examine their goods. Like the children, they are eager to learn my name and show me their reddest tomatoes. I never really know what the prices are for anything. When I got here a week and a half ago a kilo (2.2 pounds) of tomatoes was 20 birr (about 1 dollar). Today it was down to 10 birr. (I am glad I waited a week). On Saturday, large market day, lettuce made an appearance for the first time in months (according to site mates)! It all depends on what they are able to harvest and bring to town.

         We are moving out of summer (aka rainy season) and into fall (really warmer season). This is my favorite time of year as it feels more and more like spring. Early in the mornings it’s just chilly enough I need a sweatshirt to make breakfast, but I like the soft nip as I walk to school. In the evenings my site mates and I take a walk to the school for exercise and a chance to debrief the day. A couple evenings ago the sunset was so red it caused the cement road to have a pink hue. The golden sun setting behind deep purple hills across the vast soft green teff fields is a sight I will never get tired of. Little yellow flowers--the definition of happiness--spring up along side the road.  A little boy who lives near the road, calls us over to share peas (yes, peas that would be amazing in the cream peas and new potatoes dish my Grandma makes) from plants he’s pulled up from the roots. Before long, the deep blanket of night cloaks the sky with pinpricks of light. The moon is but a silver smile that doesn’t stay out for long. It maybe only 8 o’clock at night, but the music from clubs drifts into my room as another day is recorded in my journal.

         Life is low key now, but like an airplane it will soon be soaring after a slow takeoff. I am currently working on a research paper assigned by Peace Corps that will take plenty of time and energy to complete. Research in this case does not mean internet (thankfully as I rarely have that). Instead, through series of interviews, observations, and exams (mostly of my students at school) I’m assessing English, and will also to gain an understanding of Selekleka as the town. I thought classes were starting this week, but it is just registration and meetings. I do have the textbooks which I’ll use to plan now and adapt for future classes. In two weeks (Oct 10), I have an installation meeting where Peace Corps staff will come and formally introduce me to the community. Right now, I love that I have time to curl up with a book and a cup of tea, but am looking forward to getting into more of a routine, productive-feeling schedule.  You know, normal.