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| The view over Gondar, Ethiopia |
Today I returned home after a weekend in Gondar, where I had visited to finish a Peace Corps project with a couple other volunteers. Just over a week ago after returning from previous travels and training, I found myself in just about the complete opposite mood that I now find myself in, elated to be in Africa. This post will be a testimony to the real ups and downs of Peace Corps.
Last week I arrived back in Dangila after a fight with the airlines at 6am and continued problems with transportation as the day continued. The one-hour minibus ride back to Dangila from the airport in Bahir Dar was just about the worst event I’ve witnesses in Ethiopia so far. A fight between the man who takes money and a passenger broke out on the side of the road in a rural area which ended in stones being thrown and a window two seats away form me being shattered as we erratically pulled away from the fight. Shaken up already, I arrived back in Dangila to find gray skies, green grass and streets full of mud. I didn’t feel like I even recognized the town; it didn’t feel like the home I had been looking forward to returning to. Not to mention the layers of dust on everything in my house and the pile of dirt in my bedroom from the hole my dog dug in my mud walls. I guess people in mud houses… shouldn’t raise dogs?
Today the circumstances haven’t made the day seem any more bearable. On the bus ride I encountered the worst rain storm I’ve seen in a long time. All the phone lines were literally broken in half for several kilometers, trees were blown down, and rivers replaced the normal drainage ditches. Hail pounded down on the bus as the driver pulled full speed through flooded roads. At one point, the minibus (which I thought slowed down for nothing) actually came to a stop on the side of the road with several other buses. I asked in Amharic, “Is this normal for rainy season.”
He replied, “It is not,” with a slightly scared look on his face. Somehow pulling into Dangila the rain slowed down, and I enjoyed a cool walk home in the sprinkling rain. Shop owners and children yelled my name and asked me where I had been. I didn’t have a single person yell “ferengi,” and I suddenly remembered why I loved my town so much. I arrived just in time to run into the post office before it closed to find several wonderful letters from America, and on the walk home, I had a great conversation in Amharic with the children who hold my hands and walk me home. The kids who live in my compound anxiously greeted me and had many questions, which I happily answered.
Then I actually had a moment of quiet to read the wonderful notes from home, which brought a tear to my eye. I could not ask for a better support system. Every postcard, letter and package brightens my day. Even email, when I am able to access the internet, is a wonderful connection to home. I am so happy and content with life right now. I am so blessed. Thank you for your mail, support and prayers. I am looking forward to settling down to spend some quality time in Dangila figuring out what exactly I can do to help. I couldn’t be happier.
Last week I arrived back in Dangila after a fight with the airlines at 6am and continued problems with transportation as the day continued. The one-hour minibus ride back to Dangila from the airport in Bahir Dar was just about the worst event I’ve witnesses in Ethiopia so far. A fight between the man who takes money and a passenger broke out on the side of the road in a rural area which ended in stones being thrown and a window two seats away form me being shattered as we erratically pulled away from the fight. Shaken up already, I arrived back in Dangila to find gray skies, green grass and streets full of mud. I didn’t feel like I even recognized the town; it didn’t feel like the home I had been looking forward to returning to. Not to mention the layers of dust on everything in my house and the pile of dirt in my bedroom from the hole my dog dug in my mud walls. I guess people in mud houses… shouldn’t raise dogs?
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| The pile of dirt my dog had dug out of the wall. |
He replied, “It is not,” with a slightly scared look on his face. Somehow pulling into Dangila the rain slowed down, and I enjoyed a cool walk home in the sprinkling rain. Shop owners and children yelled my name and asked me where I had been. I didn’t have a single person yell “ferengi,” and I suddenly remembered why I loved my town so much. I arrived just in time to run into the post office before it closed to find several wonderful letters from America, and on the walk home, I had a great conversation in Amharic with the children who hold my hands and walk me home. The kids who live in my compound anxiously greeted me and had many questions, which I happily answered.
Then I actually had a moment of quiet to read the wonderful notes from home, which brought a tear to my eye. I could not ask for a better support system. Every postcard, letter and package brightens my day. Even email, when I am able to access the internet, is a wonderful connection to home. I am so happy and content with life right now. I am so blessed. Thank you for your mail, support and prayers. I am looking forward to settling down to spend some quality time in Dangila figuring out what exactly I can do to help. I couldn’t be happier.
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| My dirty but loving dog. |
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