02 Ginabot 2007--Ethiopian Calendar (9 May 2015 Gregorian Calendar)
There
are two shifts of teachers at Hakfen Secondary School who teach 9th
and 10th 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 9th
graders, as 10th and 12th 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.
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