Ene Yaselam Guad Nen

My language group during class.

"I am Peace Corps" we were taught to say in Amharic.  It was an attempt to teach us how to ask what someone's profession is, and tell ours in return, but the literal translation of "Peace Group" usually elicits more confusion than understanding.  My Amharic is coming along.  I am attending daily language sessions with Tigist, my Ethiopian teacher, and three other volunteers in my community cluster.  The combination of a formal class and living with a family that speaks very little English affords me a great opportunity for practice, which is the only way to truly learn a language!

This past weekend was somewhat anticipated, and somewhat dreaded.  Sunday brought our first completely free day, and many of the volunteers were unsure about spending the entire day with host families.  Overall, it did not really seem like a weekend except for my much-needed two-hour nap.  Spending free time here can come in a variety of activities, and unless you can finagle some quality alone time in your locked room, you are guaranteed to be prodded by the local children for money, and attention. I have befriended a few children on my block and they walk with me for about 5 minutes on my walk home, which is completely entertaining.

                                                                                               
Saturday afternoon, after school, I had lunch with other PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees) at a café in town.  One local juice treat is called spreece, which means "mixed" in Amharic, and depending on the café, you never know what you are going to get.  It usually consists of a variety of fruit pureed into this thick, slightly chilled (if you are lucky), juice that you eat with a spoon.  I know it sounds unappetizing, but the main fruit used is avocado.  Puree avocado sans guacamole seasoning did not sound like a treat to me either at first, but one bite and I was hooked!  Yesterday's juice also had guava, pineapple, mango, and banana layered -- so delicious!  After juice and a bit of local cuisine for lunch I returned home where it was promised I could watch/help them make Dura Wat, a famous traditional meal in Ethiopia.

A little background: women here do all the housework and cooking, and as a guest I am usually lumped into the pool with the men, so I had to specifically ask to help with the cooking.  I spend most of my time with my sister, Almaz, at her sister's nearby house, with mostly girl cousins and sisters.  It is a lot of women -- most of them in their twenties.  So I enjoyed joining in to help with the cooking and finally be seen as "one of the girls."

Kids here play with their food too...

Dura Wat (and, by the way, I am completely spelling all these Amharic terms phonetically, and most likely incorrectly) is a chicken dish served on injera.  More background: injera is this slightly sour dough mixture made into thin pancakes and eaten at every meal in place of using silverware.  You simply use the injera to gather up bites of food and eat with your hands—actually not nearly as simple as the locals make it look.

So, Saturday I helped make Dura Wat at my sister's house.  It was an all-afternoon affair, which included killing the chicken that had woken me up for days, preparing a bucket-full of onions, grinding up hot peppers mortar-and-pistol-style, adding a healthy amount of oil, and stirring a pot for hours.  I took plenty of pictures, taught my host-nephew how to use an iPod, and was completely enthralled by the lengthy process.  I cannot believe the amount of work that goes into making one dish; needless to say, I savored every bit of dinner that night.

Outside the Ethiopian Orthodox church service.

Sunday I experienced an Ethiopian Christian Orthodox church, learned how to make injera, had the inaugural meeting of a PCT Bible Study, hand-washed/line-dried my clothes, and even fit in a nap!  Every second of every day is a cultural learning experience (nap included because I fell asleep to the sound of cows mooing and Amharic chatter nearby).

I love the adventure and challenge that comes with every day, and I chuckle at the things I now consider normal:  Dodging the baby cow in the grassy area of my complex, fashioning on my head lamp and rolling up a handful of toilet paper before making the short trek to the latrine, holding hands with random little children that approach me on my walk to school, sleeping beneath a mosquito net each night (well, that last one actually just makes me feel like a little princess).

There are so many more stories to tell, and culture to explain, but dinner is almost ready and this post is getting long! My address for training is still posted on the right of the blog.  Mail is loved, so please send me something.  The process is slow, but I will try to respond via email or letter to all items received.  Much Ethiopian love.