I
just got home from a weekend of meetings in Mekelle. While the objectives of
the meetings were primarily to reflect on the last year and half of teaching
and propose new ways of improving the Peace Corps education program, we spent a
majority of the time pondering the future and how being in Ethiopia has changed
or affected us in various ways.
We,
9 of the 10 remaining G11 Education Volunteers in Tigray (one was in Addis for Medical;
but we started with 15 in the area), have been the guinea pigs for the PELLA
program. We have been through the trenches of teaching large classes with
classroom management conundrums, figuring out how to adequately assess all
students through various ways, and of adapting to thrive in a new culture.
We’ve been successful and we have failed. But we all recognize that there are
only five more months of this life for us. A life that is normal, familiar, and
comfortable in many aspects. While we dream of refrigeration, indoor plumbing,
and family, we also recognize that it’s going to be hard to leave this normal
to go back to America.
I’ve
always known about culture shock. It is in most books written about travel and
one of the things blogs of travelers focus on when getting started. Culture
shock: the jolt of disorientation one experiences when abruptly being subjected
to an unfamiliar environment. The feeling that floods over you when you get out
of the airport and into the streets of a new town in a new place drastically different
from your normal life. Drinking blood with Maasi, being in a stone city wearing
a head scarf to respect the 99.9% Muslim population, having the only white skin
and blue eyes for kilometers around, hearing language that is totally
unrecognizable, and using a squat toilet are just some of the ways I’ve
experienced culture shock around the globe.
What
I am learning more about currently is reverse culture shock. Instead of being
disoriented in a new environment, you are suddenly shocked when reentering an
old environment you’ve been out of for a while. For example, after my 5 month
study abroad trip to Tanzania, it took me weeks to get over the fact that
sleeping without a mosquito net was okay, months to overcome an uncertain fear
of tap water, and a while to be okay with the vastness of grocery stores. By
the time I return to the States for good, I will have been gone 25 months (and
a large smidge) with Peace Corps, 5 times as long as my Tanzania study abroad
trip. It is going to take a bit to adjust.
But
what that adjustment will look like is pure speculation that is a waste of
worry and time. “So
do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own.
Today’s trouble is enough for today.” Matthew 6: 24. What I do know is that I am currently living in a normal normal. I have
adapted and changed. While, I don’t know to what extent or how reverse culture
shock is going to affect me, what I want to share is what my normal is so that
you, friends and family, know what I’m having to adapt back from. I know I still
have five months here, some of these things I have mentioned before in previous
blogs, and this topic will probably be raised more than once, but honesty and
openness is a key that I continue to use.
So
here is a quick, condensed look at what normal looks like for me. Please note
that I am not complaining. I love my life here. I just want you to see how
different it is and why being slightly nervous of reverse culture shock is
understandable. My brick of a phone doesn’t have emoji, t9, a touch screen or
spell check. Every message has to be typed out letter by letter. *804# will let
me check my balance while I have to scratch off phone cards to add more to it.
I can’t see photos on Facebook and only able to type 120 characters (spaces count)
in messages or posts. The government controls the one cell provider so
sometimes the network is just shut off.
I
haven’t been behind a wheel of a car for 20 months and 3 weeks. When traveling I
don’t get to decide what the radio plays or if the windows are opened. Ethiopians
tend to tolerate the heat of a bus to prevent the unscientific fear that air
will lead to TB or polio being inflicted upon them. I’ve never been in my own
vehicle and always have someone issuing me a ticket to pay. Unable to leave
when I want to, I have to wait on the side of the road for a bus to come and
hope enough buses connect to get me to my destination safely and on time. While
Ethiopia has a high fatality rate of motor accidents, I’ve been blessed to not
be in a crash, while other Volunteers have had to overcome severe (but not
deadly) crashes. I only wear seatbelts when in Peace Corps’ vehicles and that
is about once in a blue moon. We swerve for all animals and honk as people
cross without looking first.
I
teach, wearing a long sleeved, white, thick lab coat with a Peace Corps logo on
the back and three pockets on the front, to students clad in teal uniforms.
Even though it is hot season, they must wear their matching two piece uniforms.
We all have to walk at least thirty minutes to school though many have to walk
for 2 – 3 hours in various directions. There are no yellow buses or school
crossing signs. I have a blackboard and chalk. All other teaching aids must be
made by hand and with saved or salvaged materials. There are no printers for
worksheets. I rinse off chalk dust caked between my fingers at the end of the
day.
While
students have 6-7 classes of 42 minutes a day to take 12 subjects a year, we shift
between morning and afternoon. One week my classes go between 8am-12:30pm while
the next they start at 12:42pm and go until 5:09pm. Teachers rotate throughout
rooms while students remain in the same seats. Students sit in wooden benches
usually at least two, but sometimes three or four to the 3’ bench of a seat.
Listening
is the gateway to a new life. I spend much more of my time listening than
actually communicating with anyone. While I am much better at Tigrigna, I am no
where near perfect. When I do speak in English, I have to slow down and
simplify my English to direct sentences. Being around native English speakers,
I was shocked at the speed at which others and I can communicate and yet feel
like I am in a weird time warp. Some things I always respond with in Tigrigna
even when people ask me in English (example time).
While
my watch and phone both tell the time, they appear to be six hours different.
Not only do I need to keep track of two or three languages, but also have
become familiar with a new way to tell time. Ethiopians still work on a 12 hour
cycles to the day, they just start
counting from when they traditionally wake up at six. So our seven o’clock is
read as 1:00, 8 o’clock is 2, 9:15 is 3:15 and so forth. I also know that if someone sets a meeting for 2 he or she may be
there by 2:30. Time is flexible and adaptable. There is no rush as the day is
meant to be enjoyed and relaxed. Besides tracking the present time where I am,
I’m also constantly conscious of what time it is in the Oregon and Washington
and whether or not friends will be awake to message on Facebook.
Habits
are quick to form. Taking malaria medicine and tucking in my mosquito net are
second nature. I put sunscreen on in the morning and have cold water bucket
rinses in the evening to get off all the dirt. My hair is washed on Saturdays.
Water is monitored and stored. I try to always have some filtered which I drink
at room temperature. I wear one outfit for a week and do laundry when water
allows.
Knees
and shoulders are covered at all times. Time can be told by the mosque and
church calls on crackling speakers, as well as, assuring us that power is out
when unexpected quiet lasts a while. Wednesdays and Fridays most of my friends
are fasting –eating vegan style, but now that it is Lent the fasting
last
every day for 55 days. Buying groceries and coal only on Saturdays makes me
think about what I will eat for the week. Oil is rationed and only available
for about a liter a month. Cockroaches crawl about even when I spray, and I’m
constantly flicking away flies. The rounds of coffee ceremony are second nature
with cups as small as some children’s tea sets. The post office is rarely open
and usually mail is delivered from Shire about once a week or every other week.
Then
there are all the things that are unexpected but loved. The amount of kids with
arms wide open varies like the formation of clouds. When on a walk you may be
called to go to a Christening or a memorial service or both on the same day.
When offered a plastic plate at an event you never really know how much
berbere, hot spice, is going to be in the dish being ladled. When walking home
you may be called into a coffee ceremony and not leave till hours later. On a
mini bus you may start a conversation with someone who has been to America or
has never heard of it. Teachers pull out dama, checkers, boards during break
with soda pop tops used as pieces (one player’s face up and one player’s face
down). Your landlady brings you a piece of fresh bread while you are cleaning
your room.
I
love eating injera and various dishes with my hands. I love seeing camels and
laughing when chickens cross the road. I start to shoulder dance when music is
played. This life is familiar, comfortable, home. The last 18 months and 8 days
have been a blessing. The next 5 months will hold more sunshine and troubles.
But I will continue to hold on to this normal until the next normal comes around.
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