Teachers Just Wanna Have Fun

  02 Ginabot 2007--Ethiopian Calendar            (9 May 2015 Gregorian Calendar)

           There are two shifts of teachers at Hakfen Secondary School who teach 9^th and 10^th graders everything from Amharic to Tigrigna (alphabetically speaking). There are 54 teachers, 1 head director, 2 vice directors and 7 additional staff that keep us safe (guards), happy (tea house), informed (librarian), prepared (store house) and organized (secretaries). Shift One is slightly larger (33 teachers) as the Preparatory uses some of the buildings with Shift Two. Very rarely do we have a chance to all get together. I spend all day Friday at school mixing with teachers for English Day, but most others don’t stay later than their classes last. Today was a day where almost all of us got together for a party.

            I was informed that I should be at school at 1:30 Habisha time (7:30 AM Western time)--though I didn’t leave my house until that time, knowing that I was still going to be early. However, as I was walking the slightly chilly main road, avoiding white-shawled Christians coming back from church, I was called over by one of the Amharic teachers, Bethlehem “Betty,” to wait for a bajaj. As there was a TPLF election rally going on and church, the three-wheeled taxi system hadn’t started. Betty had been planning to be at school much earlier to start cooking, but couldn’t carry everything out there. So we sat and waited. I should probably mention that the cell phone service was also out so we couldn’t contact the drivers to find out where they were.

            Eventually one did come and took us out to school with large pots strapped to the roof, buckets of chopped onions, tomatoes, and garlic, and everything needed to season, prepare and serve traditional meals and coffee. The bajaj driver was quite nice and gave me an ear of corn. Not sure really why, but I thanked him. When we got to the school, unloaded the bajaj, and crawled through the barbwire fence, I realized that nothing ever goes the way I think it will, why do I plan ahead? About six male teachers were chopping pieces of goat on cutting boards made from old desktops balanced on the benches we usually have in the staff lounge. Three were over by the water fountain. I saw one of the guards throw up the skin of a second goat into a tree as the three worked on something on the ground.

I decided to help Betty gather wood and start a fire instead. The two giant pots we had brought with us were both about 3 feet wide. We first had to find three giant black rocks to prop the pot up on. I couldn’t understand why the white rock didn’t work as well in fire, but Betty said it wasn’t good so I took her word for it. Betty quickly made a fire with paper, twigs, and a couple medium size sticks. She claimed she learned how to make a triangular bon-fire by watching American films. I’m not sure what ones those were, but it worked really well, which I was thankful for, as heavy looking rain clouds kept things cool.

Even though we had arrived late, we were ready to start cooking the breakfast meal of dulet. However, we soon realized that the prized, expensive oil was locked in the administrative office to which no one had a key. So, Betty told me to throw on my corn with only a couple of layers of husks on it. I doubted, but did as I was told. Best hot breakfast ever! Sure, it’s practically pure starch, but it’s so hot and yummy. As I finished, the guys chopping meat came in for a small cup of burbary (really hot spice). Betty got excited and went out. I followed.

My great grandparents on my mother’s father’s side were farmers who did everything in the fields and with livestock. My great granduncle on my dad’s mother’s side was a professional fisherman.  Now, I do not know the scientific explanation for gene transfer, but I am pretty sure something in my genes granted me a steel stomach. Through traveling I have seen animals take the final part of the circle of life. In Tanzania the Maasi people suffocate the animal so that they can save the blood to drink before the meal. I’ve seen, drank, and eaten. Here, I have watched the silver blade end chickens’ lives. Last week, I walked up on my compound handyman skinning a goat before the holiday. Today, I watched people eat raw liver with burbary. I did not eat. I draw the line at raw, probably still slightly warm, meat. However, I did help make dulet, which is chopped intestines.

Once the oil was freed, and more people came, the women got to work cooking dulet. First they covered the large tin pots with a thin layer of oil. Then they dusted on charcoal ashes. This is to help protect the tin from the fire and make it easier to clean later. The fire was rebuilt and the rocks adjusted to make sure it could support the pot. The first pot was loaded with three large soup ladles of onions, couple glugs of oil and set to simmer. When the fire got too hot some of the long sticks were pulled out from under the pot and moved to another side of the tea house to start the second pot. With more onions and oil. That would be for the second meal.

Usually when I get dulet the meat has been finely minced so that it is almost like really fine ground beef. Maybe I’ve always had my dulet chopped by females who take the time to get the pieces fine, but this time the chunks from the guys still resembled the part of the animal that it had been functioning earlier that morning. In went the meat, oil, water and some spicy green peppers. In order to mix the giant pot’s concoction, broom handles were stripped of their plastic and the wooden handles were perfect for mixing. I got to help though the smoke was an irritation. A little burbary and garlic was added in as the mix simmered. Injera (flat bread) was pulled out of the bag and placed on circular trays.            

True to culture, the guys ate first. Granted, they had been working to prepare all the meat of two goats, so they weren’t completely lazy and just waiting. Besides, there was plenty to go around. While the meat was chewy and some parts had strange texture, the sauce that had congealed was delicious. Garlic really can make everything taste good.

More people arrived, pictures were taken, but work still had to be done. In the other pot large amounts of onions were simmering in a bath of oil. The first pot had been washed and refilled with water to heat. Over a kilo (2.2 pounds) of burbary was added to the onions. This had to be mixed to make sure nothing was sticking to the bottom. Once the guys had finished cutting everything, the large bone chunks were put into the water to boil. After awhile (probably a 45 minutes or so), the rest of the meat, which was in bite size pieces, went into the deep red mix along with broth from the other pot. Mixing and smoke continued to go on, but more people were coming, the chemistry lab was getting a make-over, and there was a five-year old running around.

I thought we were just going to eat once it was ready, but instead they just let it simmer and we all got together in the chemistry room for a giant buna ceremony. There was music blaring. My five-year old buddy Simon learned how to use my camera and impressed everyone by taking their pictures and showing it to them with review. They ate it up. So thankfully I could just watch and talk with teacher buddies as pictures were getting taken. Sure this meant that the battery needed to be charged, but I was prepared for that. I wasn’t prepared for the talent show.

Each department had to nominate someone--on the spot--to do a talent. It didn’t matter which shift, just one from each. I was relieved when I finally figured out what was going on and that another English teacher had been selected. However, they (meaning all the teachers) decided that I should take part in it. Well, I didn’t do Young Life and Wyldlife for nothing. I can do goofy and silly and center-of-attention-things if I have to. We then had to draw slips of paper from a teacher’s hand to find out what task we had to do as our talent. I drew first so I had to go first. The slip of paper was collected after I drew and it was written in Tigrigna that I couldn’t read and translate it for the brief 5 seconds I saw a corner of it, but whatever the case, I had to sing and dance to an English song. Having a total of 1o seconds to figure out what song has a dance to it that I could sing (I do not know the lyrics to Thriller or much of that dance), I just pretended all the laughing smiling faces where 5-years old and did “Head-Shoulders-Knees and Toes.” Is it a song? Yes. Is it a dance? I don’t really think so. I did tell them it was for kids, but I am slightly horrified at myself that that was the best I could do. I’m sure Philip would have done something spectacular. The other teachers had to sing and dance to Tigrina and Amharic, kiss someone of an opposite gender (that volunteer didn’t rise to the occasion) and tell an embarrassing/funny story. Don’t mean to brag, just tell the fact that I got “first place” for a first grade song.

Then we got to eat. Plastic plates were passed around quickly followed by injera. It took a while for the meat stew to come around as the servers had to fill a bowl outside and bring it back in. The giant pot had been heavy enough it took six guys to slowly carry it to the right building, but not up the steep set of stairs into the room. Patience does make the meal taste so much better. Beer had also been issued out, but thankfully someone remembered that I don’t drink and brought a soda pop for me. I don’t usually have one of those, but it was better than nothing. The meal was so filling and delicious. It was good just to sit and talk and listen and laugh and realize that life is strange but wonderful.

Announcements were made and then they started to make promises for next year. As this is an annual event, they start preparing for next year’s party today. People make pledges of what they will provide next year. The math department trumped all the offers of beer by promising to buy one of the goats. The director got points for promising whiskey. I made a note to remember to bring lots of water next year.

Then the dancing started. Ethiopians (at least Tigrignians) love to dance. They hear a beat and light up! There was a dance competition that Shift Two won but was the biggest part of the day. It was a blast to see how happy and alive people can be. Usually I just see them dragging around school because they have to be there. Occasionally I see them at some ceremony, but they only dance once or twice before leaving. Here we were one collective body that just wanted to move. I tried to get some pictures, but that didn’t do the event justice. Videos were taken, but I’m not sure how those went either. The room got hotter, the time got later, another round of beer went around, and the carefree atmosphere continued.

This morning when I woke up, I decided I was going to be comfortable and clean(ish) for once (aka, I wasn’t going to wear the same thing I wore all week). So, instead of wearing a skirt, I put on my black thin sweats and a Batman shirt. My hair was controlled around the edges with a banana yellow headband. I figured I would be the only one with a camera so I wouldn’t have to look that great. Besides it was just teachers and there had been mention of a tug-a-war game so I wanted to be ready. Yeah, why do I ever think ahead?

There was a photographer to take pictures of every department, large group and random people around. I learned in Tanzania that putting on the flash makes the diverse skin tones clear in pictures, but I never realized how white it would make me look. Especially since I was wearing dark clothes. Oh well, I am in pictures to document this school year . .  with Batman. I was also dragged into the math department’s picture. Oh fun times! Once teachers realized that my camera had been recharged, they were eager to take pictures. We are all grown-up kids. Taking pictures, being goofy and looking at them seconds after they are taken--we don’t grow out of that!. At least not in this corner of the world.

I stayed till about 6:15 pm and then left to walk home before it got dark. I also wanted to make sure I could buy some phone birr(money) to call Mom because, it also happened to be Mother’s Day. However, I  was distracted by the beauty of my backwood path home. I sat down on the edge of a dried riverbed to watch the sunset and sing random praise songs that popped up in my head. It really is the simple things that give peace to heart, mind, and soul.

This school year has been full of “unexpectanties.” Technically, I still have another six weeks to go, but three of those are no school weeks for 9^th graders, as 10^th and 12^th graders have tests that lock down the school. I have one more unit and a leftover lesson to go till I finish the textbook. I still have to give a short test, review for the final, and grade the final before I consider myself completely done with my first year of teaching. But, as I watched teacher friends chop meat, wash dishes, dance on one leg, take goofy pictures, and give me smiles, they made sure I knew I wasn’t alone in a world of Tigrigna.  I realized unexpectancies will happen. I will not be told about things are happening that people who grew up here take as normal. I will be criticized more harshly for my students’ grades and my own performances in the classroom since I am held to higher standards. I will have to battle the language in and out of my class. But, having friends here makes everything a party.

“Could Have”, But Not “Should Have” (May 2, 2015)

         I could have used the time putting on layers of gooey paper-mache to plan lessons. I could have used the day to review the mid-exam or start on Unit 11: Endangered Animals. I could have just handed the students lollipops to make sure that all got some. I could have played “pin the nose on the mosquito” to bring in another easier game for students. I could have….. but sometimes life is about going the extra mile to do something utterly fun, slightly crazy, and completely goofy. It’s a lesson students continue to show me throughout my first year of teaching.

            Cravings are hard to ignore and often times harder to satisfy around here. These cravings for me tend to center around food, such as granola bars, chocolate, caramels, cheese, cottage cheese and bell papers. Usually they stick around for a day and then fade into something else. (Random information: The craving that has stuck around the longest for me is one for a ham and cheese sandwich on homemade bread with Doritos and a granny smith apple.) A couple weeks ago, I had the urge to do something creative and get rid of the stacks of unneeded papers around my room. Then my college roommate sent a letter with a couple of balloons and my craving turned to papier-mâché-ing a piñata. I could have waited for the craving to pass. Let it go with an excuse or two. I could have found a different craft that would have satisfied my craving. I could have done something less messy and easier to explain to my compound family.

Originally the piñata was going to be for the class with the highest participation and attendance for the week leading up to mid-exams. It was an attempt to get students to come to class and listen, instead of doing work for other classes or skipping all together. I started the process on the long Easter weekend, thankful that I had time and energy to get a craft going. However, I realized late on Thursday night that I had no way to hang a piñata. So instead, the winning class was just handed lollipops. Life went on. Then mid-exams got moved from Monday to Wednesday, so review still continued. Still the blue piñata sat in my house. I could have hung up the piñata and considered it too late for the malaria awareness month competition that Peace Corps volunteers around the country were competing in. I could have let kids around my neighborhood bash at it. I could saved money and not put in lollipops.

On Monday, 27 April, there was a miscommunication between secondary and preparatory directors. Prep wanted to start their mid-exams in the morning, but had failed to tell secondary. So instead of the small secondary shift coming to school so there would be enough rooms on campus, the large shift came. As mid-exams take president over classes, prep was awarded their classrooms and secondary had to rearrange and reconfigure. All classes were paired up. Thankfully first period the HPE teacher took out 9I out so I could review the mid-exam and start unit 11 with just 9Q. However, 9F and 9E had been combined and I only teach one of those classes. Most of the morning the first teacher there took the class he/she had and kicked the other class out. Seeing the injustice of that, I meant my students at the door and told them that we were going out and leaving 9F to their Physics teacher. They were confused,but went with it. I could have complained and tried to find a room. I could have asked 9F to leave.

My school has a gravel parking lot--where painted lines would be, there is concrete barriers between the spots. This forms a perfect horseshoe shape for students to sit around. First I passed out their mid-exams, explaining that we would review the answers on a different day when we had a blackboard. Passing out 60 tests takes a while, but they were eager and interested so the process went fairly smoothly. I then pulled them over to where the piñata was hanging in a tree. They were bewildered, but eager to figure out what their prize was. I then asked what students know about malaria and if they would be willing to be recorded saying it. Three brave souls came forward. I could have made this a class activity with all students writing responses. I could have done more than three students. I could have given them more than 30 seconds to think of malaria information.

After recording the students’ responses, I explained what a piñata is. They didn’t really get it until I shook it so that they could hear the lollipops jangling around. It took some work to make students back up far enough, but once they realized what was going on they did it. Making the claim that we don’t fight and hit mosquitos in the daytime, I pulled out a bandana to blindfold the first student. True to the game, I spun him around till he was slightly dizzy. After a few hits I rotated so that all who were recorded could get a chance to bash the piñata.

When the piñata was finally decapitated, chaos ensued. Students piled in to reach for a piece. There was laughing, yelling, pushing, shoving, relief and utter awe. At the end all candy was gone, papier-mâché destroyed all over the place, and teachers came over to make sure students weren’t actually getting into a fight. I could have asked other teachers to help or at least warned them to prevent unneeded confusion. I could have had students practice getting candy and sharing to make sure they all got some.

There is a lot I could have done for this one day, but that is just a snippet of my life. I brought in food for the unit on food and categorizing it when I could have had students make list. I brought in a jawbone of a goat because students were having trouble distinguishing between chin and jaw when I could have drawn a picture. I could have continued teaching instead of giving end of unit and weekly spelling tests, to get through the textbook quicker. But just because there is another alternative that may not be as messy, complicated or detailed, doesn’t mean that is what one should do.

I shouldn’t allow fear of explaining around a language barrier to prevent me from making a pinata. I shouldn’t be an Ebeneezer Scrooge and count the costs over the enjoyment and outcome that aren’t monetary.  I shouldn’t complain when the schedule is changed and demand that I get something else. Classwork is fun, but I shouldn’t dictate my classes around that. I shouldn’t limit the use of visual aids even though they are seen as odd, different, and a distraction. I shouldn’t judge my success on getting through a textbook, without continuous assessment.

Sometimes it is easier to get drawn in to the norms and expectations of what one should do than think of what one could do with a little more effort, time, and commitment. But easier isn’t always what should to be done.