This week has been one of the
hardest, most trying weeks of my life and definitely of my Peace Corps
experience. My heart has been over flowing with joy and crushed with sorrow. My
body has been pushed to exhausting limits and completely relaxed. I've had
answers given and more questions arose. At thousands of feet above the world,
I'm able to just breath, turn up the tunes and process this week.
On Monday, April 11, I spent the
morning inputting students' grades from a four part skills assessment that
tested grammar, reading, writing and listening skills. So many grades, but
great to see growth of many students and awareness to weak spots. In the
afternoon, I was able to get some internet that was strong enough for a quick
chat with Mom. Thankfully she listened to a “God nudge” and corrected my poor time
zone calculations so that I was completely ready for my 6:10 pm my time (8:10am
Hermiston, OR time) phone interview. An interview which I came away from thinking I spoke much
too quickly and praying the connection held up for them to hear and understand
me. I was told they would be interviewing the next day and let me know in a
week. I went to sleep thinking it was a fun day and excited for the prospect to
start imagining teaching Stateside.
Tuesday morning, April 12, I was so
excited I skipped breakfast to head straight to the bus station to take me to
the airport. Unlike many airports, one has a twenty minute walk to get to Axum
Airport. A walk where brown grass blows in the wind and birds can sing to their
hearts content. I'd barely started eating my orange when a plane landed 30
minutes ahead of schedule (something unheard of around these parts). A plane
that had one of my dearest friends aboard. Hugging her for the first time in
two years filled my heart to overdrive. We spent the morning exploring
Ethiopia's deep rich Christian history with obelisks, tombs of emperors, and
Queen Sheba's bath. We relaxed with delicious special fuul and juices before
catching a bus headed to Selekleka. Two letters were waiting for me at the post
office, but instead we met people and I introduced my friend to injera and
tradition dishes. A little bit of lesson planning and then we crashed.
I woke up on Wednesday, April 13, thinking it would be an ordinary, normal
day with teaching in the morning and a kindergarten program in the afternoon.
We grabbed teaching aids and filled our water bottles before leaving my house
at 7 am. Part of the walk to school is done on the main paved road. Usually in
the mornings not many people are out walking about. Students slowly filter to
the school. However, as we got closer my heart began to sink with the cars,
bajajs and people clustered all around. Trying to avoid causing more of a
scene with two white people I kept eyes down and just walked around. However,
when I looked back my eyes were drawn to teal blue legs and lime green plastic “jelly”
shoes laying motionless under a blanket. I kept walking, but was soon
confronted by other students who were confirming my worst fears: a student had
been killed by a car. The student was one of mine. Nothing seemed ordinary or
normal after that.
There was
a meeting where teachers and directors decided that morning classes would be
cancelled so the entire school could pay respect to the boy's family. While
many asked why I was going, they understood the importance of the walk and that
he was one of mine. My friend Rowanne and I left with students clustered around
us. We walked and walked and walked. Up and over five mountains for two and a
half hours as our water diminished as we sweated it out. We would peak on
mountain just to see teal uniforms climbing a hill at least a mile a head of
us. We made it to a church and then there was a funeral ceremony.
Walking back to
the boy's house, about five minutes for the church, the wailing reverberated in
my heart as I realized I'd never had a clearly definition of grief and mourning
before. I wanted to cry as I saw tears streaming down so many faces, but
couldn't. Priests brought down a cot wrapped in red cloth and performed more
ceremonies while the crying and wailing continued. Questions filled through my
head, but couldn't quench the realization that this was something special and
unique that showed the tenacity and respect everyone was giving to this 15 year
old.
A
couple of my female students and I were blessed with corn injera and water
before heading back down to town under the sweltering heat. Reaching town, a
couple of my other students made sure that Rowanne and I got bottled water
though they were very hesitant to take some after we had poured some into our
camel backs. One of my close teacher friends admitted that he had been planning
to eat breakfast at school so he hadn't had anything eat. When I told him he
was strong, he shrugged it off and said "I just accepted the journey that
was put on front of me."
Rinsing
off the dirt that made my skins look as dark as my students', I realized that I
couldn't wash away the tiredness that was settling in my legs and heart. After
a quick lunch, Rowanne and I grabbed a mosquito piñata and headed to "0
Class," kindergarten. Even though we were late, the kids (ages ranging
from 3-5) and teachers were glad to see us. I adapted "Head, Shoulders,
Knees, and Toes" to be part of the mosquito, before attempting to play
tag. Even though the piñata hook broke, kiddos were amazing at taking turns at
braking the piñata as I buzzed it around.
Finished the night by
watching the new live action "Cinderella."
How does one
teach the day after that? How can we do group work when one group's member
isn't just absent with the flu? How can the normal walk to school become
normal again? That's what rushed through my head and heart a million times, Thursday
morning. I still don't know all the answers.
What I do know,
is that the rough parts have to acknowledged and "moving on" or
attempting to do normal things help with it all. We did group stations which
kept things busy and mostly productive. During break we recorded students
reading malaria facts in an attempt to make a video. Time and people took on
new perspective as I realized the future, not even the next hour, is ever
guaranteed.
After class, Rowanne and I were invited to Teklay's parents' house out in
a village for a "kusme," religious celebration for the Orthodox
Christians. We kind of joked that we hoped it wouldn't be as long of walk as
yesterday, but he assured us it wasn't even over one mountain. Eobel, a
charismatic three year old, brightened up the day with his facial expressions
and love of Rowanne's camera. Had to leave early to get a delivery of 45 bed
nets, but enjoyed the gusty walk back through dry fields.
Had
a fabulously full coffee ceremony with laughs and giggles at Fergenet's to
leave us full of love and joy.
Friday, April 15, was suppose to be
piñata and mosquito net distribution day. Neither happened. Students were about
as done as I was with the week and the overall behavior of many of them
reflected that to a wild extreme. No piñata. 800+ people signed up for nets and
we couldn't get lottery system done before flag ceremony, so no mosquito nets.
Instead left school after a couple rounds of checkers.
Called a friend
in country who checked my email to find that there was a letter of intent to
hire me for a fourth grade position in Hermiston, Oregon that I had saved for
me until my visit Stateside in a couple weeks. Got reassuring Facebook messages
from Mom and mentor teacher that assured and left me pondering as I waited at
bank. Surprised by a new ATM card which makes my life easier.
Once back,
Rowanne and I had a fantastic guided tour of Selekleka by Billion, a sixth
grader who can do anything she wants to with her energy and passion. We all
relaxed with a cold pop before coming home for checkers and for Billion to
braid Rowanne's hair. Read 1 Peter 4:7-13,19 which could fill another blog with
how much it pertains to this week before rewatching "Cinderella" and
bed.
The weekend included going to Adwa to
hang out with Peace Corps buddies. Then to Addis Sunday afternoon for Rowanne
to catch a flight on Monday to go back to the states and me to head back to
site for a visit from Peace Corps personal.
I should be used to things being
topsy-turvey. To expect the unexpected and abnormal to crop up where and when I
least expect it. But how does one balance so many emotions in such a short
period of time? From grief in the morning at a student's wake to joy in the
afternoon with Kindergarteners? I don't know. I know things aren't really fine,
but that's what I have to keep saying until some semblance of understanding
comes.
One month later: (May 20)
It's been a
little over a month since this horribly hard week happened. A month where I was
able to process and try to put things into some sort of perspective. A couple
things have happened that I want you all to be aware of before I post
this.
Most importantly,
Teachers and community members have thanked me multiple times for being part of
their culture. They thank me (and Rowanne) for walking that long, hard, hot
walk to respect the student, his family, and the culture. They mentioned that
they never would have thought a foreigner would care so much about them and
want to take part in the hard parts of their culture. It's brought to my
attention that there are many different types of ways to show love and respect
for people and culture.
Friends and
family haven't let me just be fine. Many have been inquisitive and supportive
in various ways as they know that grief takes time.
I've gone to a
Christening, wedding and condolence ceremonies. Life keeps going on with new
life and death part of the flow. They can't be denied, but rather acknowledged
to influence the only thing for certain: the second in which you are living.
Since this week, I've tried living every second of ever minute of every hour
with purpose as if it were my last. While I don't expect to die anytime soon,
practicing this has opened up my life to experiences I wasn't expecting. I've
met fascinating people all over the world and more friends around Selekleka.
I've helped slaughter goats and played more rope games than I have since
elementary school.
I didn't write this blog to complain or
state the woes of life. I want to be honest about My Peace Corps experience and
what God is trying to teach me through it. I want people to be honest with me
when I ask "How are you?" Instead of stating an "I'm fine"
response behind a mask of emotions. So I'm being honest now. Life is full of
emotions, obstacles and choices. What makes it doable is knowing there are
friends who will listen and support you in all of them. Thank you for all your
support and please let me know how I can support you.
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