Home Sweet Home Feb. 16, 2016

             Blogger Challenge Prompt #2: Share your own “home away from home” or in generally what are the homes like in your community.

When I was a teenager, my weekend chore was to do laundry. While Philip got to mow the lawn, and Thomas helped out with whatever, I spent most Saturdays doing laundry for all five Sextons and an occasional exchange student. While this may seem like a mundane task, it did have its perks. One of which was watching tv without having to debate what to watch.  One of my favorite shows, Extreme Make-Over Home Edition on ABC, rebuilt houses for families. Returned military personnel, kids with cancer, and others went on a family vacation and when they came back their house was completely redone. Besides the touching family stories and the inevitable tears every family shed, I loved seeing all the different kinds of houses and wondering what I would live in.  

I lived in dorms and a college-owned house during Whitworth years, with other people, grandparents’ house during the summers, and then with a friend and her parents after graduating before Peace Corps. This is the first home that I have had all to myself and, although Peace Corps pays the rent, I claim as being my first home on my own.  

Like many homes, my room of a home is part of a compound situation. There is main gate leading into a courtyard of sorts. Mine is mostly concrete, while friends have grass or other things inside theirs depending on the lay out of the compound. Some of my friends have rooms behind small shop fronts or lined up one deep down roads. Most tend to be one story, but there are a few two -story buildings with rooms, usually on a hill.



Here’s the general gist of my compound:      As you can tell it is in pretty much a square set up with a planter and a suspended water tank in the middle. There are various metal clotheslines hung criss-crossing most of courtyard. My landlord’s small jeep of a car can barely make it through the gate to park at night. My room of a home looks directly into the compound and east which allows lots of light to come into my house throughout the day, but shade in the afternoons. The stairs next to my room allow people to go up into other family rooms that are above the kitchen area and the toilets. There is now only one renter, who is rarely home when I am, but I suppose we both work at different times. The store is run by the handyman and sometimes his wife and two adorable daughters come to help out too.
 



Now to my grand floor plans of my home:   One room is pretty typical. I am lucky that mine is about a foot of so off the ground which helps keep bugs, cats, and dust out of my room. Living in dusty Tigray does mean that I am still sweeping tons of dust at least three times a week out of my house, but areas that I cook and eat on, are easy to sweep up after. I have stored water in many one liter water bottles, which I store together and use piece of cardboard to make a bench for cooking goods to be stored. My vegetables are hung on the wall to the  right of the window so that they don’t take up space and are easy to get to. I still live out of a suitcase, which makes it not feel quite as homey as it could be, however, it prevents my clothes from getting dusty. There is only one light switch to the right of the door and only one outlet that goes to the top right corner of the window. I use an extension cord to bring it within reach of my single burner and a table for electronics.  All my walls are decorated with pictures and “glow-in-the-dark” stars.  

One room homes are pretty typical from what I’ve seen of various friend’s houses in town. Depending on doors and windows will dictate where the bed will be put; however, a couple of my friends don’t have windows in their houses based on how the compound was developed. Typically a couple of rooms are started and then more are built on as needed. Since I’ve been here, there has been an extra room and bathroom built into my compound.  

I have been to some ceremonies in the villages that were classified as “traditional home” by teacher buddies. These tend to be circular and have bed, seats, and crannies designed where they could before getting white spackled. The ceilings are beautiful layers of wood that are occasionally painted like a complex quilt square. The roofs are pointy and thatched with light color straw. Most houses are constructed out of rock, mud or a combination of that.

Home. Four simple letters that stand for so much. The roof to protect against rain, sun, wind and the cold. Doors and windows to let in light and air. A place to feel safe and secure in. I didn’t know what to expect of housing arrangements when I joined Peace Corps, but I’m so blessed with where I am.  

My Own Complementary Prompt: Thoughts of Future Homes
I used to want a giant house. One that had a two-story library, grand staircases, window seats and a large kitchen. Living in a one room house, I’m now more appreciative space and repulsed over extravagances. I don’t want a large house that I’d have to clean (even with vacuums houses take awhile to clean), or a super fancy kitchen (though a fridge would be nice). I’d be happy with a sink so that I can actually wash my hands and veggies properly and have something I could wash my hair over besides a bucket. I miss having dresser drawers that keep things organized and clean and a bookshelf to organize books and teaching aids with. But these are just wants. I have everything that I need. 

Why? (Blogger Challenge #1 wrote on 12 Feb 16)

           Before getting into the heart of this blog, I need to explain what Blogger Challenge is. A returned Peace Corps Volunteer has started a challenge for current volunteers to improve/continue writing blogs with weekly prompts. I found out about it late, and am totally behind, but really appreciate some of the topics. So, I’m just participating so that you can read about some of the prompts. If you are interested check out their website (google Blogger Challenge) and you should be able to read blogs from Peace Corps Volunteers all around the world!  
         So, prompt #1: Why are you abroad? What led you to pursue your current adventure?
      I don’t know when my love for maps and traveling started. Maybe when I was six months old and got my first passport. I do remember moving from Colorado to Oregon which seemed like a long trip to a 5 and a half year old. My elementary school had a state map painted on the playground in various colors that I would play on for hours. When I was in fourth grade I distinctly remember being fascinated with maps. My teacher had lived abroad, and that intrigued me. By sixth grade I was set on traveling and teaching in Eastern Africa, which was reinforced in my 8th grade autobiography project. Teaching and living abroad was always my goal.
      My freshmen year of high school I had an “I-search project” in English class. The premise was to connect research to personal interest in a meaningful way throughout the semester when our student teacher took over the class. One of my friends had never been to the zoo so she was focusing on that. Another was fascinated in aviation and he was a bundle of airplane facts. I wanted to do something meaningful if I was going to spend so much time working on this project (I don’t remember the exact specifics, but it was a large part of our grades).  But what was meaningful enough?
      I remember sitting at my dark, walnut desk under my loft bed trying to decide on an idea. It was my last piece of homework for the night. We had to present a paragraph (or something) giving reasons to our teacher why we had chosen the topic and how it connected to us personally. Instead of finding something interesting that I could connect to, I was just boiling up in frustration. Deciding I should take a break, I went into the tv room where my brothers and Dad were watching a baseball game. I was hoping the distraction would give me an idea.  
      I never saw the game. Instead I watched a commercial where beautifully dark skinned, wide-round eyed, kids smiled at me. It was probably an ad urging donations, but all I heard in my brain was “That’s what I want you to do.” I’ve tried to explain how I heard that, but nothing seems adequate. Was it my imagination? Was it God? Instead of explaining my reasoning, I took it and ran. My research paper, “A  Journey Without Smiles,” focused on the HIV/AIDS outbreak in Eastern Africa and how it was directly affecting children my age and younger. It was the start of my obsession and focus of children in this corner of the globe.  
       While college buddies changed their majors, I stuck with the same educational track I enrolled in as a freshman, realizing education was more for me then medical tracks. Even though I had had 3 years of Spanish in high school, I dedicated a year to learning French (a common Africa language) which didn’t stick and was relieved to take a year of Swahili instead. While others were focusing on the key subjects of math, science or English, I was pursuing teaching English language learners (pre-kindergarten to 12th grade certified) and getting endorsed in writing and reading as well. Elementary Education allowed me to study all subjects up to grade 8 instead of focusing on just one.   Towards the end of my sophomore year of college I saw a flyer to travel abroad for Jan Term and Spring Semesters to Tanzania hanging on a bulletin board near the drinking fountains. By then I was enrolled and engrossed in Whitworth’s School of Education’s rigorous practicum-filled programs. I was originally told that I couldn’t go on the trip and graduate in four years; however, after lots of rearranging and agreeing to take a summer biology class at a community college, I was soon on my first real trip to East Africa.  
        The one-month internship/practicum part way through the trip teaching 3rd graders with nothing but a chalkboard, opened my eyes to what it means to be an adaptable, flexible and positive teacher. I came back to the states eager to finish my undergrad degree and head out again. When I graduated I was in correspondence with the Head Mistress of the school I had worked at and trying to figure out a way for me return. However, plans fell through, as I never heard back about details needed to get a visa, and I was left living in Pennsylvania with my parents.  
        My mom wisely told me to “open as many doors as you can and pray that God closes the ones you aren’t meant to enter.” As the state of Pennsylvania requires substitutes to have a Pennsylvanian teaching license, I applied for various jobs back in Spokane, Washington and flew back to live with Grandparents where my teaching license was valid. Before leaving for the Northeast I also applied to Peace Corps, unsure what would happen with it. When I got to Spokane I had a couple of interviews, but ended up only having substitute teaching left open as the school year got underway. In mid-November, I got a called asking for an interview for Peace Corps. While they thought I was still in Pennsylvania, we quickly worked out details that I could do the interview when I visited parents for Christmas break. I ended the interview knowing that Ethiopia was where they were currently looking for people with an educational degree to start a new program, but had submitted Tanzania as my first choice, Ethiopia as Second, and Uganda (?) as my third. I finished subbing, cutting the school year short to hangout with family and friends, and got packed to leave the Northwest on June 28th and arrive in Ethiopia on July 2nd. I am abroad because my childhood dreams of traveling and teaching abroad never wavered. I’m abroad because I believed my goal to be important and something I couldn’t quite explain adequately. I am abroad because I was always encouraged to pursue my dreams and supported when I did. I was led here by opening doors and allowing God to close all the ones He needed to in order to lead me to the right one.
           My Own Complementary Prompt: What is next?
         Teaching and living abroad has been my goal since I was in fourth grade. I have met children that I dreamed about for my freshmen paper, and visited places that I studied for various reasons. I’ve used my trainings my Whitworth diploma and teaching degree represent. So, now what do I do next? Is this something that I just check off as a dream accomplished or continue to pursue teaching abroad?  
          Towards the end of Disney’s “Tangled,” Rapunzel is finally able to see the floating lights, her life long dream. She asks Flynn,  an outlaw who has helped her so far, what she is suppose to do next. He responses “Well that is the good thing about dreams. You can make a new one.”  I’m like Rapunzel in that boat. I’m experiencing my life-long dream, but don’t know what my new one is…not yet anyway.  
          What I do know is that I’m going to follow my mom’s advice and open doors so that God can close the ones I’m not meant to go down. I can’t explain it adequately, but I feel like I need to go home for a while. I need to eat sour gummy worms with Philip, enjoy superhero movies with Thomas, paint nails with Mom, bike with Dad, sew with Grandma, watch the news with Grandpa and worship in church. My current thought is to apply for long term and substitute positions in Hermiston, Oregon and Spokane, Washington and see where God takes me for the next school year and beyond. I doubt I’m done teaching abroad, but we’ll see. 

Gaming Around 15 February 2016

        While school was suppose to resume today, no students showed up. Instead break was extended another day. After rearranging my desks back into groups (they were in rows for testing week), I headed back home.  

          While I was reading a book, my phone buzzed with one of my best Ethiopian friends calling. Answering in Tigrigna we had a quick light-hearted chat, before she invited me over to coffee. I asked when, she responded “Hih-gee” or now. I smiled, quickly finished my chapter, put on shoes and headed out. Her house is a quick two minutes away through I had to stop to twirl multiple kids on the way making it more like a 10 minute walk.  
         When I arrived at her house, I was also met by her, her 8th Grade daughter and her other young friends who were playing a card game. The Coca-Cola cards were so worn there were more wrinkles then flat surfaces, but they didn’t seem to mind. After catching up with my teacher friend about her break, I was invited to play with the girls. Playing with them, I realized there are many ways that children pass the time, that I take as normal, but that I don’t expect. While I have written about “dama,” (checkers) there are many other games that kids play for hours. So here, are some Ethiopian games, starting with the cards game I played today.  
         “Karta” (Cards) When I first observed this game, I thought it was like rummy where you try to get runs or pairs; however, I was quickly shown otherwise. The first couple rounds 13 cards were dealt. Players took turns either drawing from the top of the deck or from the top discard pile. Jokers were used as wilds. You didn’t lay anything down until you went out where cards needed to be runs and you needed to discard. Girls also played for 2nd, 3rd, and 4th place. The last couple games we played only 10 cards were dealt, jokers were still wilds, and everything you laid down had to be matching sets only. Because we were playing with two sets of cards, it was okay if some cards were duplicated in the sets (ex. 3 of clubs, 3 of spades, and another 3 of clubs would be fine). You had to lay two sets of three and a set of four to go out (two sets of five were against the rules).  

           Jumping Rope Loop While I have jumped some awesome rope while here, this is a game I watch, mostly girls play, with amazement. A long rope (made of various things) has the ends tied making a giant loop. Sometimes one end is tied around a sturdy pole, but most of the time two girls loop their legs through so the rope is suspended at various heights from knee to waist levels. The third girl puts one leg inside the loop and the other outside. Everyone starts singing a chant while the jumper has to do various changes so that one leg is always outside and one inside the loop. They go higher and lower while counting how many switches she can do. It’s seems like lots of fun and I am amazed very very few of them have ever stumbled or fallen doing it.  

          Kick Tether Ball While I grew up playing tetherball in our backyard with brothers and friends, this takes on a unique twist. Any pole or sturdy tree is fair game to be laced up with a rope that has a small padded ball at the end. Instead of using hands only feet are allowed to kick the ball. Once it has wrapped all the way around the winner is announced.  
       
         “Endomino”   While waiting in the shade of a large tree before going out to a funeral, three of my teacher friends started playing this game. They gave me the money, but all took it back at the end so I don’t really know how the betting part of it is suppose to go. Anyways, each teacher picked up three small pebbles. They hide their hands behind the backs or knees and then put one hand out in the center of the circle. Then, they each took turns trying to guess how many rocks were being held. The person who got the exact number, or closest to it, got the price. It was a pretty fun game to pass the time.   Stacks I’m not sure what this game is called and have seen it being played in various ways with the same premise. Bottle tops, marbles or stones are stacked up. Players take a few steps back so their feet are behind the line drawn about a meter or more away from the stack. They then take turns throwing rocks at the stack. The goal is to break apart the stack before anyone else does.  

          A little competition and a lot of laughs are international motivations for games!

Lots of Love (In honor of the day of love = 14 February 2016)

 I’m constantly listening to music and usually my tunes are on shuffle. While it is often on for background noise as I work, it has recently been employed for many dance parties with four energetic girls under the age of four in my room. There is lots of dancing and jumping around with stuffed animals being ideal dance partners or stunt devils. While actually listening to the lyrics (even though they don’t know English, I don’t want to be exposing them to some music), I’ve realized that love is portrayed differently in songs, but with the same passion. So, here is my eclectic Valentine’s Day play list for all the different kinds of love. (Disclaimer, if you watch to these songs on youtube I have no idea what the videos are like, just the lyrics.)  

“2,000 Years Ago” by Rescue (Heavenly Love) “2,000 years ago they put His cross in the ground.  2,000 years ago His blood ran down. And though my foolish heart finds it hard to believe 2,000 years ago He was thinking of me.” While this acappella song centers around the Easter story and not Valentine’s Day, the message is a clear representation of the love letter of John 3:16-17 “For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, not to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.” While we live out love in various ways, how can sacrificing your only child compare?

“A Love Without End, Amen” by George Straight (Parental Love) “Let me tell you a secret about a father’s love. A secret that my Daddy said was just between us. He said Daddy’s don’t just love their children every now and then, it’s a love without end, amen.” I was not the perfect child. I’ve been grounded and had disagreements with my parents. However, throughout all the “no’s” that I thought were destroying my life completely, their love for my brothers and me never wavered. It was there when I was frustrated with geometry, ecstatic from winning a game, sad when plans changed, and applying and deciding to join Peace Corps for its 27 months commitment. While I can’t write about experiencing this kind of love as a parent, I’m so beyond grateful for the love my parents showered and continue to bless me with and look forward to the day I can love my own children in an infinity of love.  

“Count On Me” by Bruno Mars (Sibling Love) My brothers are two of my ultimate favorite people in my life. Their faces smile from photos posted all over my room. Pictures from when we were little and just moved to Oregon, all of our graduations (even Philip’s that I missed), traveling across the country, and more. My parents had a rule that we couldn’t hang out with friends if we were in fights with our siblings. While this is a song about the importance of friends and not necessarily siblings, my brothers happen to be two of my best friends. We are there for each other and know that the others will be there when we need them. While they have never “sing a song beside me” to get me to sleep, they constantly remind me how much they love me. I can count on them to be there with a smile, hug, laugh and a listening ear whenever I need them to be. “I’ll never let go” of their friendship and “Never say goodbye” indefinitely. Other friends have let me down, but they never have.  They always have my back and they know I have theirs. We talk about the serious and goofy topics and have random dance parties as we “DJ it up” wherever we are (kitchen, car, etc). While being in Peace Corps has separated us for 19 months, it’s their tall, strong hugs that I look forward to the most after getting off the plane. They are my encouragement to keep persevering and never giving up.  

“The Gift of a Friend” by Demi Lovato (Friendship Love)  Loneliness is a drag; however, friendship blossoms when given half a chance. Friendships aren’t defined by the amount of pictures you are tagged in with the other person, or how long your facebook relationship has lasted. Some friendships last a brief time and others continue on throughout many years. Some are built through late night conversations and others are once a year “Happy Birthday” messages that serve as catch up for the year. While they vary in depth and length, it’s crucial to realize the importance of friends. Those people “who knows when you’re lost and you’re scared, and are there through the highs and the lows. Someone to count on. Someone who cares. Beside you wherever you go” throughout whatever obstacles, celebrations and everything in between life brings you.      

“Beauty and the Beast” Celine Dion/Disney (Romantic Love) This is the kind of love one associates most with Valentine’s Day. The love between two people that changes Facebook status, prompts date nights, and leads to dreams of happily ever after. While there are many songs that reflect this type of love, I prefer Beauty and the Beast’s theme song as the best description. “Tale as old as time. True as it can be. Barely even friends then somebody bends unexpectedly. Just a little change. Small to say the least. Both a little scared. Neither one prepared….Ever a surprise. Ever as before ever just as sure…Bittersweet and strange finding you can change learning you were wrong.” It’s a step above friendship wrapped with certainty and doubt. Certain that it is love, but wondering if the other person is “the one.” It’s changing to compromise with realizations of truth reveled throughout the relationship.

“Dear Future Husband” by Meghan Trainor (Hopeful yet Uncompromising Love) For those of us that are still looking for a romantic love, this upbeat song reminds us not to compromise our ideals for a man. Meghan throws in some advice for her future husband to follow: “You gotta know how to treat me like a lady even when I’m acting crazy. Tell me everything’s alright…Make time for me…Just be a classy guy…Tell me I’m beautiful each and every night” that reminds me that setting standards isn’t being picky, but protecting our hearts for the right guy to come in. She reminds him to drop the stereotype of women staying in the kitchen with  “You work that 9-5 well Baby so do I so don’t be thinkin’ I’ll be home makin’ apple pies. I never learned to cook” and instead insist that she be treated with respect in various ways.

“Who I Am” by Jessica Andrews (Self Love) There are many things in the world to which we compare success to: traveling, awards, etc. However, what is most important is recognizing who we are as individuals. Having a strong, positive sense of self makes individuals stronger. “So when I make a big mistake, when I fall flat on my face, I know I’ll be alright. Should my tender heart broken. I’ll cry those tear drops knowing I’ll be just fine. Cuz nothing changes who I am.” I don’t allow things to have the power to change me, without my consent. I know that “I’m a saint and I’m a sinner. I’m a loser. I’m a winner. I’m steady and unstable. I’m young but I am able” and so much more. I’m constantly learning who I am and reinforcing my own sense of self in positive ways.  

“Everyday People” by Reba McEntire and Carole King (Humanitarian Love) There is a place in our hearts for loving humans just because we are all humans. It’s the love that compels people to build houses after natural disasters, cover enormous medical bills and more. Individually a person may not be famous, important, or the best in his/her field. However, his/her impact is important. “Everyday people are the ones that are making miracles and it’s beautiful. Everyday people lifting up the world like an answered prayer I thank God they’re there. They’re the ones who care, everyday people.” We need to love each other to properly care for each other.  

“God Bless the USA” by Lee Greenwood or Jump5 (Patriotic Love) I wasn’t born in America; however, I have spent the majority of my life between “sea to shining sea.” Living abroad not only has deepened my love and appreciation for America, but to recognize that national pride is evident in other cultures. My Ethiopian friends are proud to be Ethiopian and which never was formally colonized. Like American’s saying the pledge of allegiance, every day students sing the national anthem to a waving flag. Americans boast that “the flag still stands for Freedom and they can’t take that away. And I’m proud to be an American where at least I know I’m free and I won’t forget the men who died who gave that right to me and I gladly stand up next to you and defend her still today. Cuz there ain’t no doubt I love this land…Well there’s pride in every American heart.” The truth is there is pride in most people’s hearts for their homeland or where they are living now.  

There are many different types of love. Love for individuals differs just as it does between pets, food and t.v. shows. So, whatever relationship status you find yourself in this Valentine’s Day, I hope you are surrounded by people that love you and that you can show those who are important to you that you love them.  

PS. If you are completely pessimistic about this whole love thing, check out the “Lollipop” song from Pitch Perfect 2 that focuses on “Love’s going to get you down,” but has a beat that will want you to start dancing, laughing and forgetting about broken hearts and messy parts of relationships. ☺

    Other Fun Favorites: “Back on the Ground” Scotty McCreery (Parental)
“Home” Dierks Bently (American Patriotism)
“Little Moments” Brad Paisley (Romantic)
“Little Things” One Direction (Romantic)
“Seasons of Love” Rent (Original Broadway Production)
“We Belong Together (Tarzan and Jane)” Steven Curtis Chapman (Romantic)
 “Where is the Love?” Black Eyed Peas (Humanitarian)
“Y-O-U” Jonah Werner (Romantic)
 “You’ll Be In My Heart” by Phil Collins/Disney (Parental)
 “You’ve Got A Friend In Me” Randy Newman/Disney (Friendship)

Time 9 February 2016

  I am currently enjoying my semester week break by reading an Isabel Allede’s historical fiction novel that has spanned from the 1836 Opium Wars to the Gold Rush in the first 200 pages. The main focus has been in 1843-1864 in Chili with characters from China, England, India and America providing background into many of the diversities unique to the various cultures for the time. From binding feet for beauty to metal rods for posture, from acupuncture to modern medicine, the book is all wrapped up in societies where guardians really do guard the family’s reputation, transportation by boat is harrowing and free thinking is considered unnerving.  

The imagery and conviction of the story engulfs me. I become engrossed in the lives of the characters holding my breath when they do and wondering their future doubts with them. I can almost smell the tasty preserves, see the cathedrals with people flocking to pray against earthquakes, and hear the waves crashing against the ship heading to San Francisco.  

Then I go for my evening walks and a new reality of time hits me as I avoid donkeys, shield my eyes from the dust of passing busses, and pass mosques ringing out their evening prayers. Fresh cement is being watered, corn is being roasted on the sidewalks, men cluster around checker boards and little girls carry their little siblings on their back with a smile and wave. Music drifts out from clubs and tea houses.  

A dear friend invites me in for coffee at his house and I graciously accept. We (well, mostly I) stumble over broken pieces of concrete as we enter the metal gate to his compound and climb down into his house. His two-year old son erupts into laughter and squeals as he sees me and his wife smiles and welcomes me to sit. The house (one room) is small and modest. The walls have been covered and painted a beautiful light daffodil color; however, the floor remains hard compressed dirt. A clay “fernello”, a small stove used with charcoal, has the coffee beans already changing from green to dark rich brown as I enter to sit on a bench.  

The television changes throughout the evening to play music videos of Katy Perry, Kanye West and others (I can’t recognize) to extreme wrestling to Ethiopian traditional dances from various regions. It’s then that I realize time is a flux. It is constantly changing at a fixed rate that we measure in minutes, hours, days, months, decades, and centuries. However, the way it fosters that change is varied from place to place. I see the obelisks in Axum and know they were around before the Gold Rush was happening. I watch dancers and wrestlers in nothing more than bedazzled underwear, wonder how long ago the corset was been forgotten, and recognize the shock of apparel from my Ethiopian friends who don’t show shoulders and knees.  

As of today, I have been in Ethiopia for 19 months and 1 week. I’ve missed two Grammy’s, two Super Bowls, two World Series, countless movie releases (including the Star Wars and Hobbit III), the red cup Starbucks incident, debating between what color the dress is, and various fashion trends I only see afterwards in a friend’s old People magazines. If I were to listen to any radio station in America, I wouldn’t be able to identify the top songs or have any idea who the half the artists are. I’d be lost on news stations and way behind in my favorite comics. While at times that seems like a lot, but in the scheme of things it’s really not that much.  

We put a lot of importance on time. Focusing on “now” we need to be preparing bank accounts for retirement, being caught up to date on everything, and having a plan for the future. Yes, things change with time, but overall the important things stay the same. We value family and relationships above monetary goods (or at least should). We cook meals that are familiar and have been handed down as “family recipes.” We search for self-identity while living in societies construed by assumptions and stereotypes.  

Time continues it’s slow and steady progress. Change accompanies it. I wonder what people will write in the next twenty, fifty, hundred years to describe the “historical” fiction/non-fiction we are living in today. I strive to give them something good to write about. 

Alone 7 February 2016

 This morning my roommate left me alone at 5:30. I left the hotel alone at 6 and waited alone for a café to open. At 6:30 I decided against breakfast and walked alone to the bus station where I got on a bus to take me to the other bus station of Mekele. I listened to music alone as the Tigray rocks, bushes and sheep scenery went by. I ate brunch alone before waiting for another bus to come. I eventually got back to site where I sit in my room alone to type this out.  

Being alone often has a negative connotation. We check phones and facebook to see that others are awake and connected. Old ladies grumble that we should get married so we won’t be alone for the rest of our lives while dating and chat sites assure us that we aren’t alone. Being alone is a key part in the adjective lonely which sounds more like Eeyore then we’d like to admit.  

However, as I was walking along the cobblestone streets in Mekele to my first bus, standing in the dust at next city’s bus station, and watching scenery zoom by, I remembered back to when we were still living in Colorado. I was probably five or so and Grandma and Grandpa Hein (Mom’s parents) were visiting (maybe for Thomas being born?). Already being a big helpful sister I was helping Mom wash dishes and had just learned how to properly wash knives. I remember calling Grandma over to watch me proudly wash and announce “Look I did it all by myself.” This is a common proclamation I would announce many times throughout growing up like many children. “It” would change to incorporate writing my name, embroidering, sewing clothes, paper mache Alps, blocking out basketball opponents, and various report cards. There is a certain pride in being able to do something “all by myself.”

So why don’t we—I--use that term instead of the term “alone?” For instance, “This morning my roommate left me alone at 5:30. I left the hotel all by myself at 6 and waited for a café to open. At 6:30 I decided against breakfast and walked all by myself to the bus station where I got on a bus to take me to the other bus station of Mekele. I listened to music operating the technology all by myself as the Tigray rocks, bushes and sheep scenery went by. I ate brunch after ordering in Tigrigna all by myself before waiting for another bus to come. I eventually got back to site all by myself where I sit in my room to type this out.”  

“Alone” is an adjective to describe being one and only. “All by myself” is a verbal phrase to show ability. I have the ability to wait, navigate streets of Mekele, communicate for buses and food, and get things done. Granted I was alone, by myself, for the actions, but I can still take pride in them.  

Being alone and lonely is a common, honest complaint among Peace Corps Volunteers. While I do have two Peace Corps site mates, I don’t see them and often feel like the volunteers who are the only “forengi” (Ethiopian term for foreigners) at their sites. It can be hard and daunting. Today I wasn’t too excited about traveling from one side of Tigray to the other without a travel buddy. However, the thing is we also complain about never being alone. Where ever we go people call out to us. This blog has been paused for a dance party in my room with three lively girls who just come into my room.  If I look at today, I wasn’t alone walking to the bus station, waiting in line, or at the restaurant I ate at. There are people everywhere.  

The point I’m trying to make is that being alone isn’t a bad thing or technically correct. Being put in new situations allows growth to happen. If we look up from our phones and plans, we will see that there are lots of people that make us still part of a group. I met an Ethiopian who lives in Dubai but is back to visit family. When I bothered to look around on the bus, I talked to a med student while waiting for a bus to show up . We can take pride in what we do just like we did when we were children. Even in the small things like getting from Point A to Point B successfully or using the correct verb tense in a sentence. I did it all by myself.

Never Ending Dance Party Concerning the week of January 9 – 15

This last week my compound has been bursting with people, music and animals for the celebration of Bisirat, my compound family’s youngest son, and Rahel’s wedding. I’ve been taking notes and writing snippets of events happening; however, I have been struggling finding a way to clearly articulate all that is happening and why, when I’m still slightly unsure. What I’ve gathered is that a wedding is a never-ending dance party with plenty of behind the scenes the stage work.

I woke up on Saturday (January 9) thinking it was just going to be another slow, relaxing day. I still had groceries from the week before so didn’t need to go to market, just errands to check the post office where I was blessed with some letters. As I was writing to Grandma I noticed men here hanging a tarp in a corner of my compound off the gutters to the laundry lines. I continued to write until three women poured large rice bags full of onions on the ground. Soon a couple of plastic deep buckets and one made from a turned out tire were around them as the ladies sat on a small concrete stoop with knives in hands. Off came the tops, bottoms and outer peals of the onions before being halved and thrown in the bucket. I tried to keep writing, but my Mom’s voice popped in “If you see work that needs to be done, do it.” Prompting me to abandoned pen and paper in room and bring out a small knife. We started as three women, and finished five hours later with around 30. As we were working, men were walking in and out of the compound with meat, bajajs (a sort of taxi) were delivering injera and there were people going everywhere. It was fascinating watching legs come in and buckets going here and there. After eating, the speakers were hooked up so that we could all dance and rejoice for the newly-to-be-weds.

Sunday I gave up sleep around 7 as pounding for canopies was echoing in the compound. I found that 2 of 9 large pots were still cooking. The soot under the other 7 places made me assume that people had been cooking all night. People started to filter in, and I got to try some awesome coffee before being commandeered by the kids to keep them busy and out of the way. I sat with a student and her family in the womens’ section for lunch. Usually I am with lots of male teachers so I’m not usually surrounded by women. It was a pleasant change. One of my family members’s daughter is Ethio-American and visiting Tigray for the first time. She is slightly younger than me, but it was a blast to hang out with her and speak English. Together we hung out with family for the rest of the night/early morning.

Around 3:30pm family, friends, groomsmen and community members piled into cars to drive to the bride’s house in nearby Shire. As we reached the outskirts of the town, we pulled over so that Bisrat (the groom) and his groomsmen could go the rest of the way in a horse drawn decorative carriage. Before proceeding there was a dance party in the street that would violate plenty of American street laws. We made it to the bride’s house where a giant tent was taking up a giant portion of the street. I stuck close to my new friend and sat with her father and uncle (who is somehow related to my landlady) with the family closest to the wedding party’s stage. Soon the groom entered with the bride in a beautiful white dress and her bridesmaids in single shouldered-strapped, light yellow gowns. They cut ribbon before coming through an arch and taking their seats. An official reading of documents with witnesses and handing over cash and goods were exchanged between families. I heard later that if they ever get a divorce they have to pay back their families everything that they were given. Tables loaded with more food than Thanksgiving was brought in for the families to eat before dancing ensued. As a farewell, the wedding party was put on steps with sparklers to wave back and forth in front of a giant cake stand. We left soon after.

After a quick break at a local hotel for “some refreshment” we loaded back up into the cars to arrive in Selekleka around midnight for similar proceeding to happen at the grooms’ house. I tried to eat again, but there was so much food in a short amount of time. This time a live band from Mekele showed up. Family was only allowed to dance to songs that lasted 10-15 minutes. I danced some when more friends were welcomed, but called it a night around 2 am when my friend had to leave. There were people wrapped in white blankets called “gabies” asleep on benches around the place.

I tried to get some sleep, but was extremely thankful that I don’t teach on Monday after 6 hours of broken sleep and waking up sick. Not much happened during the day in my compound; however, after coming back from a Christening (see other blog) I was surprised that my compound was filled with men and students were sitting on my front steps. I ate a small plate of chicken and injera in the back with the girls before sneaking in and working on lesson plans. I was told it was only for men and didn’t want to overstep.

Tuesday was filled mostly with teaching, coughing, and hanging out with friends. Nothing wedding related was noticeable in compound by the time I went to bed around 10 pm.

Wednesday there were people around and in compound, but not overwhelming or so many that I was uncomfortable opening my window which is directly into the compound square.

Thursday night I came home from a coffee ceremony to have 30-45 women in my compound, sitting around drinking beer and local drinks. The stereo had been brought back out so that there was plenty of dancing and jams to fill the starry night.

Friday I realized that the bride and groom were back to (or had been living the whole time) in a spare room in our compound when they came out to play with the kids and me. A teacher asked me how the “honeymoon,” was going and I only assume that is what is happening now. (For the personal record, I hope to love my future husband’s family, but I don’t want my honeymoon to be in their house for weeks.)


I am currently spending the weekend with a friend getting ready for another wedding next weekend, but have no doubt that the family will still be in celebrating the marriage when I return. It’s been a busy week full of sickness and work, but there is always music. If I’ve learned anything from Ethiopians it is that when the music starts to play, the dancing can’t be contained.

Four Ceremonies in Three Days 12 January 2016

 January is famous for being the month of celebrations. Orthodox Christian Ethiopians are relishing having completed the fast for Christmas while preparing for another long one leading up to Easter (this year ending 31 April). They are still diligently observing the Wednesday and Friday fasts that prevent any animal byproducts to be consumed. This makes January be a very busy and carbohydrate heavy month. The last three days have shown me how varied, valued, and communal these ceremonies can be.  

Sunday 10 January: Bisrat and Rahel’s Wedding Ceremony (11am-?am on the 11th)  While a wedding ceremony isn’t just one day (See other blog “Never Ending Dance Party” for full wedding week fun), Sunday was full of wedding celebrations both for the families and the communities involved. Celebrations were held in Selekleka at the grooms’ house, in Shire at the bride’s house and then back to the grooms’ to push celebrations over into the following morning. There were food and dances that were open just for family and others that were served more communal. With music blaring long into the night (even as people were falling asleep on benches) it is clear that all were welcome and excited for the events. Women dressed up in beautiful white dresses with dazzling gold jewelery and men wore their spiffiest suits.  

Monday 11 January: Merian’s Christening Ceremony There has been an invitation having on the inside of my locker door for the past week and a half. One of my fellow English teachers was recently blessed with a baby girl (Merian) and, keeping to tradition, holding a Christening ceremony 60 days after. Being part of the afternoon shift, I went with fellow teacher friends after a shortened class schedule. We filed in on benches and were quickly handed plastic bowels to be loaded with injera and spicy meat soup. Cups were giving overflowing with sewa to those who wanted it. After eating (and I introduce all the magical awesomeness of wet wipes) we moved to another part where we were closer to the music and the dance floor.  Coming into the small dirt dance floor I was quickly joined by other women, one of whom draped a white shawl over me as we continued. No one was wearing traditional clothing. The music crinkled and cracked over speakers. One of the teachers commented that small ceremonies like this are the best kind. Seeing all the smiles and laughs I’d have to agree.  

Tuesday 12 January: Negassi’s Condolence Ceremony  When I arrived at school there was great talk about another ceremony and when teachers would go to it. I was slightly nervous as I taught the 6th and final period of the day, which tends to get cut in the afternoon when there is a program to go to. Thankfully I taught and there was a group of teachers waiting to walk back to town with me. Usually we would be a large group laughing and talking. However, today was much more solemn and it only increased the closer we got to town. One of the preparatory school (grades 11-12) teacher’s mother just passed away. This wasn’t a funeral, but a “condolence ceremony.”  As many teacher buddies made sure I understood (i.e., telling me in English), when someone loses a close family member friends have to come closer to give support and condolences. When we got to the small compound I couldn’t help but feel the radiation of support from teachers crammed on rocks, benches and small chairs.  Tea and roasted chickpeas were served to all. Before leaving, everyone shook hands and shared hushed words with the teacher. I heard later that there was a collection from all teachers for him and his family.  

12 January: Buna Ceremony with Teklay & Betty. After Negassi’s ceremony, Teklay dragged me to his house for coffee (“buna”) and I went willingly. His wife Betty is beautiful, sweet, funny and an amazing woman. Their two-year old son has more facial expressions than there are emoticons. Their home may be small, but it’s a familiar sight with friends I see as extended family. Coffee ceremonies are a relaxed yet time honored practice for friends to share in. After roasting the beans over a clay charcoal stove, the beans are passed around to be smelled and praised. Then the small clay “jebbina” is put on the coals to heat water as beans are ground before adding them in.  The art of making coffee by boiling and pouring in and out of the jebbina is something I haven’t mastered yet, but am completely fascinated by. Once the magic has mixed, the jebbina is set in a small stand. On goes a pot to pop popcorn. The jebinna’s spot is shifted sideways  as the final kernals pop. The popcorn is dumped in a plastic bowl and sprinkled with sugar. Sugar goes into the small white cups in a stand, before the rich dark coffee is poured in. Cups on saucers are handed first to guests, as well as popcorn. Once all have been served, the jebbina is returned to the charcoal to be refilled two more times.  

The four ceremonies a diverse snapshot of celebrations that are going on around here. Some are very formal and extravagant with costs making me cringe and others that are simply held in a home for friends. Some are to celebrate new life and others serve as a reminder to how fleeting life can be. All are surrounded with friends, family, support and immeasurable amounts of love. What’s key is to realize that there is a time for everything (Ecc. 3) and to take part fully in whatever time it is currently.