Sunday 25 January 2015 Oddest Party Favor Ever

         Remember when you got frustrated by a grade on an assignment in school and you would crinkle it up? Didn’t matter if it was a group assignment or a returned test. You just crinkled it up in a ball to make it disappear. Or at Young Life Club when the goal of the game was to crumble up as much newspaper as possibly and get it on the other team’s side before a song ended. (Not sure what the point of this mixer was, but it was fun!) Well, now there sits a crumbled up, old 9^th grade history test on my table, but isn’t empty.

        Although today is Sunday, it is also the first day of finals. Students have three subjects per day for the next four days before their ten day semester break. Today’s subjects were Amharic, History and H.P.E (Health and Physical Education). Although I was not mandated to go, I went early for the ninth grade section of the day to hand back exercise books that were neglected on Friday. Even though I wonder how much my students will study, I want to make sure they at least had their notes so they could. I walked with students out to school at 9:15 after a scrambled egg breakfast. The 10^th graders were still taking their tests so I just hung out with friends. One of my preparatory teacher friends came late, but invited me to silsi and dabo breakfast at the small café on campus. So delicious!

         I handed back exercises books to students who were finally allowed through the gates and told where to go for their finals. Then the vice director insisted that I get an egg and tomato sandwich that had been paid for by the school for all teachers. I split it with a primary student who didn’t have breakfast and was in charge of locking the gate. As I was about to leave around 12:45 I was informed that there is a tescar, funeral ceremony, in one of the neighboring villages that teachers are invited to. However, I had already agreed to walk back to Selekleka with other friends. So I walked back the 2.5 km (1.55 miles) to home, drank some water and headed back to school by 2:00. Ninth graders finished their HPE exam, teachers gathered and off we went around 2:30 for tescar in a village about 3 km away (opposite direction of town) by foot.

        Like the other tescar I attended, guests sat on benches under a canopy of branches. I cloistered in with the teacher buddies (all boys) and soon food came around. Lots of food! Corn injera is an ultimate favorite of mine that I am sorry is offered at ceremonies that are so sad. The meat also was delicious with lots of burbary. I tried a local drink called mes for the first time. It is made from honey, water and “something else.” I later found out that “something else” is alcohol, but I couldn’t taste it over the very powerful, famous Tigray honey. 

       So, there I was: Completely full and satisfied with the meal. Laughing with buddies who love to make me laugh and answering their “compare this to American culture” questions. We were about to leave when we noticed this one guy carrying a large woven basket making our way to us handing out something. From a distance I thought it was red apples, but as it got closer I almost dropped my sticky mes beaker. It was meat. He was handing out fist size chunks of meat.

        I saw him put a slab of it in my open (shocked) left hand, but still didn’t comprehend that it was meat till my hand felt sticky. I looked up at my teacher buddies and couldn’t help but laugh at their questioning looks and the audacity of the situation. I have never been handed a chunk of meat right into my hand from who knows where. The teacher sitting next to me handed me a blank history test (the one I had typed up last week) so I could wrap up my meat in it and finish off my mes before we all left.

       I left with nine guys, all carrying crumpled up pieces of paper in their hands. I had to smile as it looked like we were all holding snowballs, but that is happening in another place halfway around the world. We instead walked 6 km home, got a new sunburn line, and had to cook up some meat immediately when we got home. Yes, it’s strange. Yes, it’s not normal. But today is just one more example of where I learn more about the Ethiopian culture and people that makes me fall in love with it all over again.

      I learned that honoring life is acknowledging death. I learned that people love to share their culture if you show interest and ask questions. People are appreciative when you show that you are trying to integrate and learn about their culture instead of assuming yours is better. Trying English is scary for Tigrignians -- like Tigrigna is for me, but mistakes are where we learn. When you are grossed out, laughing is another alternative that breaks the ice and allows for great discussion. Six km (3.72 miles) is a good distance to have some amazing and goofy conversations that build friendships. And, raw chunks of meat are a delicious, but odd party favor.