Where Everybody Knows Your Name

The town we are training in, Ambo, has a population of around 50,000 people, which means it is big enough to get lost, but also small enough to be known.   Six mornings a week I make the 30-minute walk to the Technical College here our training classes are held.  By now, all the volunteers are used to hearing "ferenji" (foreigner) yelled by the children along the way; or simply, "You! You!"

 
In true Jennifer fashion, I found myself running late on the fifth day of class.  The first day I was wide-awake and ready an hour early, and somehow over the next few days I found a routine, got comfortable, and misread the time schedule, so I was forced to pay the 1 Birr for a taxi to school.  Given, most things around here are on "Africa Time," I was not too worried.  I also did not feel like speed walking the main road having to fend off the "ferenji" calls for twenty minutes, so I opted to take a taxi, and experience the adventure that would come with it.  I had been in a taxi the first day with a couple other volunteers and one of their host brothers as a translator.  I saw how it went down; I knew how much it cost, so I figured it couldn't be that hard.

Within a minute of walking on the main road, I made friends with this man who had books in his hand, thinking he was heading to the college as well.  He wound up having a different destination, but helped me nonetheless.  Before I knew it, I hopped in a car with a couple locals and drove the short distance down the main road where I was dropped off at the Technical College. Simple!

 That night I was at dinner with my sisters trying to absorb as much Amharic as possible when one sister spoke up, "You took taxi!"  I was startled for a minute and nodded along, "Yes, taxi. Technical college.  Awo." (I typically use a mix of Amharic and select English words I know they will recognize).  Then more was said in Amharic and all the sisters burst out laughing as the sister told the story of my taxi ride to the others.  They somehow knew the whole story.  I was late, I took a taxi.  It seemed simple and ordinary enough, but they thought it was hilarious.  I still do not know how they knew about my taxi ride, but with the growing number of strangers calling "Jennifer" as I pass by, I suppose word is spreading about the ferenji girl on my street.  In the end, I am proud that I took a taxi by myself, and I am happy to provide my section of town with something to talk about!