Plane Sept 20,2015

          I am cruising at 20,000 feet in the air. Spots of white puff balls glide below me, casting shadows on the rugged earth beneath. I'm the only white person on this plane. Amharic and Tigrigna are being muttered through the cabin.

         When I was young flying was a sensation. The takeoff was a kick off to another adventure, proving that the lines at ticket booths and security were worth it. Flight was a rarity that made window seats the prize possession. It was a break from the car road trips our family would take. I've been a sworn in Peace Corps Volunteer for one year  and this is my 12th flight. The green and yellow seats, pineapple juice with snack, magazines, and even people working at the Axum airport are familiar, normal, but I still hold on to that childhood love and excitement of flying. That is what I've learned over and over again in Peace Corps: normal can be rewarding. I never get tired of kids yelling my name and running with arms open for a twirl. Erasing a blackboard to compose myself before a class is calming and exciting as I don't know what the 42 minutes will hold. Going on walks to the same places but having different people call out to talk, share, cup of tea, or walk alongside. The deluge of thunderstorms and the dry, hazy heat are predictable but still leave me in awe. I can look at the same stars every night, text the same people, listen to the rain daily and still find joy.

         We just encountered turbulence, though the pilot used “bumps” to explain. We are also descending into Addis. While many are clutching the handrails and praying their banana-like muffin stays down, I smile. I like that stomach drop found on airplane and roller coaster rides. This last year has had turbulence. Highs and lows that left me queasy on various levels. But it's through those that exciting new adventures can happen. The wheels have been lowered as Toby Mac continues to jam in my ears. This week I will be hanging out with 51 other volunteers that I started this adventure with. During our Mid Service Conference we will glance at the past year while looking expectantly at our final year. What will it hold? With a childlike excitement, I hold onto the future (and a pack of gum!).

Thunder Rolls 13 Sept 2015

While many of you are sad about fading tans, turning on thermostats, and having to dig out more layers, the cold winds still howl through Selekleka and Tigray. Rainy season is still going strong. I snuggle in a new soft Seattle sweatshirt while sipping tea as it attempts to imitate a tsunami on the concrete outside. Puddles splash through my door, but I keep it open for light. Downspouts are directed to giant barrels, but even those are sloshing over.

Rainy season during the usual summer months is something I’m still not used to. Just like hot sun burns at Christmas instead of snow is mixed up in my mind. It is even harder to explain to Ethiopians that summer is still called summer in the States, but the weather is completely opposite. When it is dry season one place it is cold season in the other and vise versa. I’m not a scientist, geologist, meteorologist or any –ist that deals with weather. I know that weather is primarily based on the position of the Earth in relation to the sun with wind pushing or pulling weather around. I also know weather is the fall back topic to talk about when there isn’t anything else to talk about.

What is truly fascinating to me is how people react to and use weather. Even though rainy season occurs every year and it usually rains around the same time each day, Ethiopians complain and dislike rain with a phobia. When the wind starts to howl, people start leaving the open areas. When it starts to sprinkle, they run as if they are being attacked. When it pours, shelter is a must. I grew up in Western Oregon, where it rains 9-11 months out of the year. Mud, although gross, is a part of life. There are different types of rain depending on size, length and intensity it falls at (ask my college roommate who had to learn them all to put up with me). Mist, sprinkle, drizzle, rain, blustering, downpour, deluge, tsunami whatever you want to call it, I’m used to it. I’m not the wicked witch of the west who will melt with it or am I made of sugar. However, one might think Ethiopians are, as they don’t want to get hit by “my” water (there isn’t another word for “rain” over on this side of Tigray. In Amharic and Eastern Tigrigna rain is “zinap”).

Water is greatly important here, and people do recognize that. That is why they put out barrels, dig large pits, and man-made lakes to hold it for as long as possible. We get more rain than London, but get it all in a short amount of cold time. It’s important to save as much as possible. Some of it, mostly the stuff that comes off the bird poop invested roofs, is used as water for the bathrooms in my compound. Once it clears out of the down spouts, it is saved for everything from washing to cooking. Water outages are a very frequent and real thing around here--why not save what is here?

There has been talk that rain in southern Ethiopia is lacking substantially. People in Tigray are complaining about crops not having enough rain.  While in America there are always Walmarts and Costcos full of produce, here weather directly relates to the population’s availability of food. Fruit and veggies have a season that is pretty rigid. If one of them doesn’t get enough water to sustain a farmer during their season, the farmer loses profit and many people will go hungry. I haven’t been able to leisurely surf the web for information on the potential of a drought in Ethiopia in the coming year, but the way people are talking it is going to be a rough year.

Power has gone out thanks to the rain. My tea is the only warm thing in this room. But I can’t complain. I’ll be thankful to the rain when the farmers have enough food for their families and to bring surplus to market at a reasonable price. I’m thankful that books and writing don’t require power. The sound is intoxicating and soothing. The thunder rolls on.

Year to Years 11 September 2015

 

Today marks the 14^th anniversary of 9/11. A day that all Americans (with a conscience memory at the time) will always be able to say where they were and what they were doing when they either heard about the attacks or witnessed the black smoke rising. Tomorrow Ethiopians welcome in their new year of 2008. The start of something new. In 9 days, I will celebrate my one-year anniversary of being a sworn in Peace Corps Volunteer. The following day I can claim to be living in Selekleka for a year.

Some years I don’t remember, but a few details. I know in 1993 I became a sister for the first time, but only remember playing with my other little brother three years later. In 1997, I remember the long moving U-haul ride from Colorado to Oregon with my Dad and Grandpa, and starting kindergarten. Besides learning about the terrorist attacks, 2001 was also the year I got braces and started basketball.

Other years I could tell you lots about. 2008 (Gregorian Calendar) was split between Junior and Senior year, where I started with a dislocated knee injury attempting to heal, third place at the 2A State Basketball tournament, and tons of Mr. Miller’s Humanities homework. Over that summer, Philip and I spent 10 days traveling around Spain and then meeting up with family in Scotland for a month long tour following the Reformation Historical sites. I ended that summer clipping fish fins at the local fish and wildlife park. Senior Year started with AP English classes, being on homecoming court, going to the first round of volleyball playoffs, and being FFA President. A long year with many memorable events.

I know mathematicians (and musical writers) can determine that there are 365 days, 8,760 hours, 525, 600 minutes in a year. Every 3 of 4 years follow this pattern, except on Leap Years when we gain 1 day, 24 hours, 1,440 minutes. So what makes one year have more valuable or worthy of recognition than another if they are all mathematically the same?

Some things math cannot measure adequately: events in the time. These events can be single hours or days like 9/11, or the start or end of long term events such as high school, college, first job, marriage, etcetera.  They cannot be predicted precisely when they will start or the effect that they will have long term. When I sat on the bench during that third place tournament game, I never would have known that it would be my motivation to work harder then ever to strengthen my weak knee so that the following year, I would play all but 1:43 of the championship game. The impact of a day or a year may not be realized until much later.

This last year, 2007 Ethiopian Calendar, is different in that I’ve lived with more purpose, peace and drive then I’ve ever lived for so long before. I’ve become enveloped in a community, a culture that I love as familiar. I acted out I dream started in 6^th grade, 13 years ago, to teach in East Africa. I got my first place entirely alone. I have not touched American soil on the North American continent (technically, I went to the US Embassy here). I know I’ve learned many things about myself, others, and the American and Ethiopian cultures whose impact I won’t understand fully for many years to come.

What I do know, is that a year is made up of opportunities. Opportunities that cannot be predicted, valued, or determined with a mathematical formula. Opportunities to make parts of a year mundane, exciting, interesting, challenging, fun, relaxing, motivating or blah. I have no idea where I will be in a year. I can make educated guesses, but those can’t always come true. What I do know is that each day is a chance to make a year, a life, worthwhile. So, that’s my 2008 (Ethiopian Calendar) New Year’s Resolution: To give each hour, day, week, month the opportunity to make me a better a person, spread happiness to those around me, and live for the eternal kingdom.

Power 5 September 2015

 Take a second and think about where and how electricity has infiltrated your life. You’re reading this blog on a device that has a power symbol you look at frequently. Within an arm reach away from you is probably a phone, within the room is a light switch and outlets that will probably work consistently. Within your house there is probably a tv, refrigerator, stove, microwave, dishwasher and washing machine.

Power is out in Selekleka now.

The regular things go out--lights and outlets without much complaint. Today is Saturday though, so market is needed. However, the bank and A.T.M’s (in larger towns) are no longer open as power shuts down their networks. While you can order food that is cooked over coal embers, coffee and tea aren’t working. The cell phone service is still miraculously working, but the longer the power goes out the higher the possibility of network failing.

There is a joke circulating Volunteers that there is a little old man that just sits somewhere and randomly switches on and off the power. Sometimes he gets distracted and forgets to turn it back on. I think he might also be the man who comes into the “water room,” turns off the water, and forgets about turning it on for weeks.

The cliché of “absence makes the heart grow fonder” applies to power. When I first got to Ethiopia, power outages were kind of exciting. It meant reading or journaling with a flashlight. Then when I got to site, power outages meant going without a meal, no tea to warm up to in the morning, and no street lights. Now, it’s an eye roll and a joke. It’s part of life.

I’ve realized though, that there is a life without power. Finding things to do doesn’t directly relate to power being possible. I embroider in the compound. I read books, write letters, and journal by candlelight. Peanut butter, nutella, banana sandwiches are delicious and filling. Walks and hanging out with friends are always options.

When I do have internet, flipping through Facebook statuses makes me realize that not everyone sees power as a luxury. Laundry days are complained about. Short power outages are ranted with comments galore. While I do understand and recognize that these are frustrations, they are often short lived.

It is hard to really understand someone until you have to do like them. I admit I complained when power would go out in the States, but know now that I won’t ever again. I challenge you try it. Unplug from the life of power. Shut off the power chords, light switches, stoves, laundry machines for a day or two. How do you fill your time? What can you focus on instead of screens? What would you do if you didn’t have a hot water tank for a shower?

Power is important. It allows heads of countries to communicate, news to circulate through populations, banks to function properly, heat to come to the freezing and cooling to the hot. However, the amount you have access to is a luxury. I have one outlet that I can run some things off of thanks to a power strip. One of my Peace Corps buddies has just got one outlet that can only run one thing and takes out her one light bulb when it is used. Don’t forget to be thankful for what you do have. 

Two post from Late May--Ooops!

Jessie Sexton

A (Belated) Mother’s Day Thank You

(17 May 2015)

         Scrolling through my newsfeed, I am reminded how far away I am from others. Pictures of food that make my mouth water. Complaints seem like pity. Throughout the last couple months adorable baby pictures have infiltrated my pages. High school friends showcases their beautiful baby boys and girls, and announcing future special editions to their families. Today, the day that we celebrate all types of Mothers, I smile as my mom and grandmothers’ pictures light up on my chat box, read all the messages dedicated to mothers, and see throw back pictures to honor the mothers in our lives.

         Weekly I get asked if I have children. (You’d think after living here for 7.5 months and not seeing any kids with me they would stop, but guess not.) I know they are asking about being a mother, but I think of the students I claim as “mine” before answering that I do not have children. They always follow up this question with: Why not? Depending on who it is I refer to different answers: 1. I am young. 2. I am not married. 3. I am working in Ethiopia. But those answers could be debated. I know that young people can make great parents. I know some people wait till after they are parents to get married. I know that working in Ethiopia is not a birth control plan. I am not a mother because that isn’t where God has led me. But He has led me to learn and appreciate mothers so much more this year.

         This is the first Mother’s Day that I have been out of the country. Unlimited text and call to family has always connected me to Mom if I couldn’t be with her that specific day. After 10.5 months I am really starting to miss this gift that phone services provide Stateside. But I’ve also realized when I want to get a hold of my mom the most. When I am sick and needing her to make some of Grandma’s chicken noodle soup. When I can’t figure out a lesson plan and need her creative juices. When I get lost and hear her tell me it’s just an “unexpected adventure.” When I feel so alone and just want a hug.

My mom has always been there. Even when I was a bratty teenager and didn’t want her to be, she never gave up on me. She didn’t let me be less than my best. She encouraged me to be goofy on spirit days, dedicated to studies and sports, courageous to trust the unknown to a known God, patient to wait, persistent on to-do lists, eager to find joy in all the little things and to hold people above materialistic objects. She played school with me before I was old enough to go, then opened up her classroom for me to help in when I got older, to develop my love of teaching. She gave me books of far off lands and encouraged me to go there (sometimes accompanying me on the way). Recipes are guidelines, cheese and crackers can count as a meal, pink is the best nail polish, and always start your day off with the Bible.

         Mom isn’t here. I am 11 time zones away trying to figure out how to make stirfry like she does, and craving chunky peanut butter with Oreos. But she isn’t less supportive, encouraging, comforting, honest than when we were a phone call away from each other. I treasure the letters she writes, and check facebook as often as I can to see if she’s responded. She’s the role I try to follow in my classes making lessons fun, engaging and informative. The teacher who knows her students strengths and weaknesses and plays towards those. The woman who would always stop and talk no matter the number of errands that needed to get done. The one who could make cootie catchers to stop children crying in church and would be energetic to get the shy kids to participate at YoungLife.

         Mother’s Day isn’t just about appreciating what mothers have done for us, but also how they are impacting our lives today. Thanks to my mom I am a strong, confident woman of Christ. I am a pro at filling time and keeping kids from being “bored.” I enjoy filling my little free time with Jane Eyre or kids.  I don’t give up. I’m sarcastic. I don’t always need to know the baseball scores. But this isn’t just one generation of thanks or morals.

         I know my mom is (partially) who she is from her mom. Being able to live with my Grandma for three summers during college was a blessing that let me realize and appreciate the traits that are pure and stay all the way through. God is the center of every Sunday and every day. Good food brings family together around one table. Reading is an addiction, as is finding second-hand books at sales. Exercise is important. Always have a garden with extra to can (never forget the cabbage for sauerkraut). Sibling relationships are the most important. Sure there are some things that skipped a generation from my grandma to me (ex. embroidering, swimming, an obsession with mystery books/shows), but those are all superficial in the larger scheme.

Being away I have encountered many mothers showing their love to me in different ways. They are there making buna ceremonies and inviting me in. Those that help get me the forms, doctors and medicine I need when they see me looking half lost at the health clinic. Those that check to make sure I am okay when they haven’t seen me in a while. Those that let their children run to me for twirls and then a quick chat. Those that are back in the States that are sending love, prayers, and letters my way. I feel adopted and loved by some many amazing women.

         Today is a day to celebrate all mothers -  grand, great and otherwise--to appreciate what they have done and continue to do. Those that are blood and those that take us in and care about us as their own. To realize that someday I will be a mother, but that I don’t need to worry about that as I’ve had great examples before me. So, Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers, grandmothers, great-grandmothers out there!

Mother’s Day playlist: “Like My Mother Does” by Lauren Alaina, “Who I Am” by Jessica Andrews, “Never Grow Up” by Taylor Swift

Been                  (19 May 2015)

         Have you ever written a word over and over again till its absurdity causes you to question what word you are writing? I just did with the word “been.” This past participle of be, doesn’t get much write up in dictionary.com with just a couple outreaches of “been around,” and the cliché of “been there, done that.” Yet, this week, as I kick off the last unit of the textbook (12!) I find myself writing been, been, been, been over and over again on 1/32 of a piece of light yellow paper.

         I have been introducing grammar with “sentence cards” since Unit 1.  Subjects are green, verbs dark blue, suffixes pink, and punctuation red.  It started really simple with simple present tense: Subject + Verb 1+ Punctuation. The joy of this system is that students didn’t need to know all the words to start with. They just needed to keep the color pattern the same. This led them to succeeding and building confidence. We’ve progressed though verb tenses:  present continuous, present perfect, simple present, simple future, simple past, and past continuous. Once students get the sentences made I have them move the punctuation over, and they fill in whatever detail they want as classwork. For example: He is playing_____. (soccer, basketball, etc.)

         They have been improving with every tense. In the beginning of the year, I just made 7 groups and worked with that. I gave groups envelopes of the color-coded words and a time frame to get it done. It took a long time for them to make six sentences (one for each pronoun subject card). After cutting and labeling 84 “been” cards, I made sure that each of the 14 group envelopes has 6 pronouns, 4 have’s, 2 has’s, 6 been’s, 6 verbs, 6 –ing suffixes and 6 periods for present perfect continuous tense. I also added in 3 for’s and 3 since’s so students had to practice adding time expressions onto sentences. I have to make so many groups because students want to be involved and more groups means more participation. Even without a color-coded guide on the board and many words to work with, students got sentences made faster than ever. The verbs are all familiar even though I have been adding new ones in each time. We have been battling the wind long enough to know how to hold everything down and close everything up for this exercise.

         We have been doing lots of fun new things as this semester ends that I marvel at their improvement. Vocabulary has been a weekly occurrence in our room. Usually I give a weekly spelling words (even though I utterly despised these when I was in school) and then a test on Friday. On Monday, I posted key vocabulary around the room on half sheets of paper that required students to get up to see them all. The allowance to move about the room and talk, lead students to smile and get vocabulary into exercise books at an alarming rate. We also talked about disability and discrimination. These are tough issues, but students got the hang of them. When I gave them the difference of walking out of the room if it was designated as “all Habisha,” students stated that that wasn’t right. We have been growing together as a group that separation seems unfair and unjust. Just like discrimination.

         I have been looking over this last semester’s work and smile at how much we’ve done. They wrote letters to American students stating their opinions on Ethiopian holidays, food, and drinks with reasons, when many couldn’t write their name at the beginning of the year. They’ve identified human and animal body parts, new animal names, and can distinguish between nouns, verbs, adjectives, prepositions and adverbs.  They can tell you determiners for non-count and countable nouns. No one needs to be reminded to write their name on a test. Superlatives and comparatives are easy to use as well as distinguishing between fact and opinions. They don’t like writing in passive voice or reported speech, but can do it if assigned. They know which verbs have to have an –ing ending if they come after another verb or have to be used in infinitive (Ex. I enjoy (verb)ing or I  want to_(verb)_. They know sequencing and time expressions to have a story make since using during, while, for, since and ago. Neither goes with nor, Either with or and both with and when giving information of nouns. All and Every, No and None are distinguished between singular and plurals nouns and some quantities are only for noncountable nouns. Articles a and an are pretty easy, but have some exceptions like university and hour. The is used if there is only one or the subject is already identified. 

What is strange about been is that it’s something that connects the past with the present. It tells us the event started at some point in the past, but is still going on now. It also preludes the fact that there isn’t a foreseeable future without the action. Outside of school this could be applied to many things. I have been battling cockroaches and a myriad of flies in my room. The sun has been ridiculously hot causing sunburns to form again. I have been developing friendships with more people. I have been developing great arm strength twirling kids. We have been having salty water. Oh the trouble with been.

         This semester I have been learning more lessons than I could adequately articulate. I’ve been learning that:

• Students are teachers, but they don’t have a textbook for the multitude of knowledge they share

• 1st semester cannot be wasted. Start clubs and project then, as second semester is hectic with so many holidays, vacations, exams, etc.

• Some days you might seem like a burden to the community – you don’t really fit in, but you have to hold out for the few students who remind you that you are impacting their lives.

• Time is flexible, but will sail by. Make the most of the time adequately and in a way you don’t regret your actions.

• Experimenting with food can lead to some yummy new favorites. If all else fails, popcorn counts as a meal.

• Forgiveness is hard to do once much less 7 x 70 times, but there is peace when it is done.

         There have been many lessons learned in and outside of the classroom. We will be having more lessons to learn that I can’t even begin count. As the school year winds to a close (though the actually end date is still up in the air), I’ve been counting the blessings this first year of teaching has given to me. I have no idea what this summer or next school year will hold, but I hold out for more lessons that lead me to say “been there, done that.”

Zoo Aug 28, 2015

                   Beautiful creatures in a pseudo natural environment. Blue green feathers, brown and tan-tinted skin, trunks, manes and gills fill the exhibits. Glass, fences, rope swings keep them in. In a place to be observed by hundreds a day, thousands a week, millions a year. Zoo animals. Captivating membership and field trips since the ancient kings had menageries. 
Somedays I can relate to the polar bears, giraffes and baboons trapped in zoos around the world. Kids sit on my open doorstep or stand on chairs to peer in. Just staring. Like my natural moments are worthy of study and observations. I write letters. They watch. I make lunch. They watch. I read a book. They watch.  
Like the giraffe, elephant and other larger animals I occasionally leave my room to walk out in the open. My movements are watched by many. Some goggle as I twirl kids. Some call out "forgengi" to see if I will turn my head. Many just stare. 


                      Some days it becomes a feeling I can't escape. Like the fish that know eyes are following it wherever it goes or does. Sometimes I'm like a chimp who still has fun, forgetting the people pointing or talking about it. 
My new analogy of life? It's a zoo. Sometimes you do the watching and other times you are being watched. You adapt to new environments. Sometimes you are surrounded by similar creatures, other times you are a penguin surrounded by peacocks. 
But in the midst of different colors, cultures, habits one thing remains. The zookeeper cares and provides for all. He recognizes and appreciates the uniqueness of differences. He watches with a protective, caring, genuine interest. 
So, I may be different. I may be in a new environment. But we all are, in one way or another. "This world is not my home." Good thing the keeper of my life has everything under control.











Joy Tuesday August 25,2015

                It comes when we aren't expecting. Slithering through crevices of doubt and expectations. A little thing like the pattering of plastic soles on concrete, white wide smiles and a name yelled in delight. Joy. Three letters reaching up to the top line and swoop underneath as it's written over and over on my paper of thoughts. Joy. 
I've been blessed in this season of Ashenda to have joy's light come into my occasionally mundane life. Ashenda is a holiday to celebrate Saint Mary's love of children. The Friday before (_21 August _) is known as Hoya Hoya, a day to celebrate boys. They go around chanting with torches blazing to collect coins. Ashenda,Saturday, is for girls to dress up, have beautiful braids and go around singing to collect their coins. In a way it is similar to Halloween, except it takes place during the day. Dresses and braids will stay in place until the following Sunday which is a holiday for Saint Mary. 


                     Ashenda can be a stressful and unnerving time. A surplus of children are suddenly everywhere asking for money. Being on good terms with the children already (and being white) I'm an easy target. But, in the midst of flocks/gaggles of children, joy comes in.
 On Ashedena, I stayed home, in my compound most of the day. The girls still found me. I gave them lollipops instead of money and they laughed at the difference. After awhile I decided to brave it and go for a short walk. I got swarmed. Some yelling for twirls others for money. Then a couple of the boys asked to run. Alright, we ran. Sprinted. 
I'm not sure why those boys wanted to run with me. Maybe they got me confused with my site mate who runs more often then I do, but whatever the case it was an unexpected joy. Running with a large gaggle of kids, skirt flapping, boys wanting to go faster, girls wanting to hold hands was odd, unexpected, fabulous. Adults laughed and called out as we went by. We ran out to the edge of town, before turning back. Completely unexpected, exhausting, exhilarating joy.

                     
Yesterday (Monday) I ventured to one of my Peace Corps buddy's site where I'd never been before. I knew how to get there, but was not sure what to expect on the buses or after. Unexpected joy met me. On the bus, I sat between an older woman and man that loved my Tigrigna and were very pleased that I was a volunteer to teach English. While my friend did give me directions to his house upon arrival, I did get lost and even more so by kids who thought they were taking me to his house, but really lead me halfway through town. However, the kids were kind, laughable, and eager to walk by the hand (two fingers a kid to make more room) to find my friend.

                      Joy comes from strangers and good friends. In simple moments of walking down a road or in drinking tea with doughnuts (bumbalinos). 
Today (Tuesday) I took breaks from embroidering to play with kids in my compound. Jump rope can be so much fun! We did all sorts of things that I used to do in elementary school, but haven't done in ages. Why? Why do we grow up away from the simple joy of jump rope or sidewalk chalk? I've opened up some of the latter for kids to use as they want. They just have to return the box when they are done and keep it out of the rain. The simple beauty of children's sidewalk art gives joy in the thunderstorms. 
The rain is pattering and dribbling outside. The sidewalk pictures are smearing away. The stars are hidden. I'm wrapped up in a purple fuzzy blanket from someone I've never met, but cared enough to send me warmth and joy. Joy. It comes in unexpected ways at unpredicted times. Sometimes the pauses between instances are large and other times they are right on top of each other. But joy does come.











People August 13, 2015

         











Our lives are interrupted, impacted and influenced by other people. Even if one is an introvert, people come to various parts of our live for various lengths of time. Many people just register as a blurr of color—like the driver next to you or a person walking in the opposite direction on the sidewalk. Some people stay with you so long that first I encounter is forgotten behind a torrent of other memories. They no longer are just fellow Homo-sapiens but un-biological siblings, significant others, and/or in-laws.

         
Tonight running out from deluge I met two Americans at the doorway of my hotel. Being from the Los Angeles area, they were relishing the awe of floodgate opening rains can bring upon a person. They are here for a week to train teachers to promote interactive learning in classrooms and active learners. We ended up talking for a while about teaching, cultures, transitioning through culture shock, traveling, random cravings, and various things in-between. 
Rob and Jolenne are wonderful individuals doing great things. They have traveled all over the world doing different projects. Yet to me, they were nearly just on the doorstep as I slipped in.

         
For the past three weeks or so, I've been helping 19 fabulous new education trainees in Addis Alem, one of three sites of trainees. These 19 trainees have become great friends. I've hung out with may of them outside of the classroom, and loved seeing them all improve inside the classroom. However, none of them are learning Tigrigna. Thus tomorrow when they get their future site announcements, none will be in my region. 
Short term friends are hidden blessings. Rob and Jolene came into my life on a night I was going to spend alone in a hotel room doing nothing. And the future volunteers will not be close to me, many will become those I text or call to see how things are doing. 
I could fill this blog with the importance of long term friendships. Those that were started pre-preschool and continue strong today. Those that were established through the wild middle school years and haven't faded. Those individuals who became dear to me in the short, but intense, four years I was at Whitworth. Those that have been on a 13 month adventure with loopy highs and lows. And all the relationships with family members. 
Friends do fade. My myspace page from oh so long ago would probably be the best representation of that. People come in and out of our lives at different paces. It's not bad, just the way it is.

         So instead of contemplating when the next person is going to leave, I'm going to focus on the time when he or she is right I front of me. With Rob and Jolene that may be all I ever have. The future is completely unknown, so valuing the present and taking advantage to spread friendship is important. 
The last thirteen months have been rough. We all knew they would be. But with friends I've been able to get thought it with a smile and optimism. So, thank you. Thank you for all your thoughts and supports. I'm eager to see how the next 14 months go!