The adventure began at 2am Saturday when the mini-bus company called to tell us that we were the next stop. We quickly jumped out of bed, changed clothes and zipped our suitcases shut before hurrying down to the hotel lobby where the bus was waiting. Just 48 hours before, I had awoken in the middle of the night with a rather unfriendly illness, which delayed my departure to Dangila by a day. I was in the capital city for three nights attending a counterpart workshop, where I had met the HAPCO representative I will be working with just the day before. On Friday, my counterpart went on to Dangila as planned while I rested up for another day. Luckily, one of the visiting PCVs was headed past Dangila on her way home, so she stayed with me and made sure I arrived in my new town safely.
Saturday, after circling Addis a couple of times to pick up the rest of the mini-bus passengers, we were finally on the road by 4am. The bus that could comfortably fit 12 passengers was holding 14 as we snaked through the mountains outside of Addis. The mixed aroma of gasoline and Ethiopian cologne were circling the small space as the driver's broken window caused me to bundle up tightly in my thin sweatshirt. I dozed off a few times but mostly occupied myself with stargazing into the heavens above. The pitch-black countryside offered my first sighting of the Southern Cross constellation from Africa. Those stars, which often gave me comfort during my time spent in Australia, were shining brightly on the southern horizon reminding me that this foreign land is still part of this small world.
The bus drew tight S-shapes as we followed the twisting road near the Blue Nile Gorge. By this point, a bright pink sunrise came to life behind us allowing the ravine to be seen in all its glory. The Ethiopian woman behind me continued to get sick as a local policeman hopped aboard our bus at the bottom of the gorge just before we crossed over the Blue Nile River. Our fifteenth passenger held an AK-47 tightly in his arms, so, needless to say, I was not upset when he hopped off at the next town up the road. As daylight filled the sky, the rolling hills surrounding us were revealed. The countryside is methodically sectioned into various farms, creating this patchwork appearance across the land.
I was unexplainably calm during most of the ride, but those last 30 minutes brought anxiety as I awaited my arrival in Dangila. Just about nine hours after leaving Addis I was dropped off in my new home. The bus worker unloaded my heavy bag from the top of the vehicle and I said goodbye to my PCV friend as my counterpart walked up to meet me. I felt immediately welcomed as we grabbed a Bajaj (mini-taxi) toward the house where I will be living. The town appeared to be exactly what I had expected, a small rural town in the rolling hills of Ethiopia. "Not too cold and not too hot" I had been told, which seems to be the perfect description. I am still not sure how to describe a small rural town, or how to judge the difference between Dangila and the many other rural towns we passed through, but I think it is fair to say that Dangila is the best.
Just 24-hours after arriving in Dangila I know I am going to like it here. My counterpart has been so helpful, taking me around to buy a mattress and other household necessities. The children here will quietly gather and snicker as I walk by, and the brave ones yell, "What is your name?" in English, but there are only very few who yell, "Feregni! Ferengi!" as I am accustomed to in Ambo. As my counterpart introduced me to people around town and translates portions of the conversation, it seems that people are very excited to have me here.
There are so many positives about Dangila but I cannot hide the reality that has also hit. My "house" is not exactly as I was expecting; it is merely two small rooms on the side of a compound which also houses three other families.
My immediate reaction to panic, that this is not possibly going to suffice as an adequate oasis for two years, had to be muted. And I honestly held back tears when my counterpart informed me that there is no internet in Dangila. My emotions are spiking through these very difficult changes, but a peaceful rest last night has brought some clarity to my situation. I joined the Peace Corps thinking I would not have electricity or running water. The thought of having internet handy was out of the question. I realize that I have built expectations since being in Ethiopia though. All the volunteers currently here have electricity, and some sort of semi-regular running water at least. Ambo, where I have been living for six weeks, has fairly reliable (although painfully slow) internet at over five separate locations. This knowledge, plus some additional "facts" I had heard about Dangila have caused minor disappointment, but I am willing to redefine "normal" once again.
Bi-monthly trips to a nearby town with internet will serve as an adventure I figure, and I will create that oasis I need in the space provided. This whole experience needs to be grounding and uncomfortable; I need to realize my dependence on material items. I also know that I am here for a reason. A timely letter opened last night reminded me of that: "He put you where you need to be and He will protect you, give you strength, and provide the resources you need." For now, that place is Dangila, and I know God will provide me with the rest.
Saturday, after circling Addis a couple of times to pick up the rest of the mini-bus passengers, we were finally on the road by 4am. The bus that could comfortably fit 12 passengers was holding 14 as we snaked through the mountains outside of Addis. The mixed aroma of gasoline and Ethiopian cologne were circling the small space as the driver's broken window caused me to bundle up tightly in my thin sweatshirt. I dozed off a few times but mostly occupied myself with stargazing into the heavens above. The pitch-black countryside offered my first sighting of the Southern Cross constellation from Africa. Those stars, which often gave me comfort during my time spent in Australia, were shining brightly on the southern horizon reminding me that this foreign land is still part of this small world.
The bus drew tight S-shapes as we followed the twisting road near the Blue Nile Gorge. By this point, a bright pink sunrise came to life behind us allowing the ravine to be seen in all its glory. The Ethiopian woman behind me continued to get sick as a local policeman hopped aboard our bus at the bottom of the gorge just before we crossed over the Blue Nile River. Our fifteenth passenger held an AK-47 tightly in his arms, so, needless to say, I was not upset when he hopped off at the next town up the road. As daylight filled the sky, the rolling hills surrounding us were revealed. The countryside is methodically sectioned into various farms, creating this patchwork appearance across the land.
I was unexplainably calm during most of the ride, but those last 30 minutes brought anxiety as I awaited my arrival in Dangila. Just about nine hours after leaving Addis I was dropped off in my new home. The bus worker unloaded my heavy bag from the top of the vehicle and I said goodbye to my PCV friend as my counterpart walked up to meet me. I felt immediately welcomed as we grabbed a Bajaj (mini-taxi) toward the house where I will be living. The town appeared to be exactly what I had expected, a small rural town in the rolling hills of Ethiopia. "Not too cold and not too hot" I had been told, which seems to be the perfect description. I am still not sure how to describe a small rural town, or how to judge the difference between Dangila and the many other rural towns we passed through, but I think it is fair to say that Dangila is the best.
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| My counterpart and supervisor in the HAPCO office. |
My immediate reaction to panic, that this is not possibly going to suffice as an adequate oasis for two years, had to be muted. And I honestly held back tears when my counterpart informed me that there is no internet in Dangila. My emotions are spiking through these very difficult changes, but a peaceful rest last night has brought some clarity to my situation. I joined the Peace Corps thinking I would not have electricity or running water. The thought of having internet handy was out of the question. I realize that I have built expectations since being in Ethiopia though. All the volunteers currently here have electricity, and some sort of semi-regular running water at least. Ambo, where I have been living for six weeks, has fairly reliable (although painfully slow) internet at over five separate locations. This knowledge, plus some additional "facts" I had heard about Dangila have caused minor disappointment, but I am willing to redefine "normal" once again.
Bi-monthly trips to a nearby town with internet will serve as an adventure I figure, and I will create that oasis I need in the space provided. This whole experience needs to be grounding and uncomfortable; I need to realize my dependence on material items. I also know that I am here for a reason. A timely letter opened last night reminded me of that: "He put you where you need to be and He will protect you, give you strength, and provide the resources you need." For now, that place is Dangila, and I know God will provide me with the rest.
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