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.
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