Arba Minch and the Bale Mountains

February brought a big mile-marker for my training group: Mid-Service Conference! This means that we are half-way through our two years of service, and had a three day conference to catch up on all we are doing at site.  Since we were already in Addis for the meeting, a few friends and I decided to take the next week to do one of my absolute favorite things, travel!

I do realize that I live abroad, and in some ways I have been “traveling” for 15 months now, but having the opportunity to get out of site and visit to a new part of the world always makes my heart beat with excitement! My wonderful friend Danielle and I decided we wanted to visit the Bale Mountains in southern Ethiopia, but of course plans kept changing until the day before we left, when it was finally decided that four of us would first spend a long weekend in Arba Minch.  This city in southern Ethiopia literally means “Forty Springs” and is most well-known for its national park, Nech Sar, "White Grass."

After a day full of buses from Addis, our bus arrived in our destination city, which I can only begin to describe as something from a fairy tale.  A smaller city surrounded by mountains on three sides, and two lakes on the other that just screamed adventure to us-- Exactly what we were looking for.

A quick bus transfer and we finally made it to a village in the surrounding mountains, Dorze, which boasted a cultural lodge, where you sleep in the local huts, for under $10 a night!  A buffet of Ethiopian food, a personal gabi (local blanket/jacket) draped on each of our shoulders, a couple glasses of tej (local honey wine), and a night filled with traditional music and dancing; we couldn’t have asked for anything more!

The next few days we spent exploring the national park, stalking what appeared to be the last four zebras in Ethiopia, spotting a Peter Pan-sized crocodile and camping under a canopy of trees.  I must add that there are more than four zebras (which, in Amharic, are called striped donkeys) but while we were in the park only four ever came into sight.  We had so much fun, despite the fact that it seemed like every bus or tour guide we dealt with wanted to try to rip us off more than the last guy.  I could write an entire book about the art of bargaining in Ethiopia, but at the end of the day we are still ferengi in their eyes, and therefore, rich.  An emotional beating every time you get judged for the color of your skin, but I’m hoping it is making me a stronger person in the long run.

Moving past that unplanned tangent, we then cut across to Hawassa meeting up with another volunteer and friend from home, who were joining us for the Bale Mountains portion of our trip! Traveling from Hawassa to the entrance of the Bale Mountains National Park proved to be another full day on buses. Hawassa to Shashemene to Dodola to Adaba and finally to Dinsho! Four legs later we were dropped off right outside the entrance gate where we happily accepted the “resident rate” and hiked in a couple km to our first campsite.  We were only in the park a few minutes before seeing our first nyala and several dik diks.

We camped in the park for three nights, each at a different campsite, hiking during the day to new areas.  Since two horses and a guide were compulsory, it worked out well that Danielle and I could hike without our packs, while all the boys carried theirs, leveling out the playing field!  It was such a relaxed environment; each new area was filled with places to explore: waterfalls, forests, cliffs.  We would arrive in the afternoon, setup camp, and spend the rest of the day playing games and discovering the surroundings.

I learned that the local guides are a lot better at building fires, and keeping them alive than we are.  They are also able to endure long nights of cold rain without tents to keep them dry, only shallow caves to barely shelter them.  We had so much fun hiking through the Bale Mountains and enjoying the beautiful region.  Wart hogs and their babies scampered around the fields, mountain hyrax jumped from cliff to cliff, and six ferengi balancing on rocks to cross a river while carrying packs.  We succeeded in finding an adventure; we always do.

55 Days of Fasting

This past Monday officially started the 55 days of fasting before Easter for all Orthodox Christians in Ethiopia. “Fasting” includes not eating until noon everyday, and never eating any animal products (milk, butter, eggs, meat, etc., aka a vegan diet).  ‘Why 55 days?’ you ask.  Well, I’ve been told many reasons, but the leading theory is because throughout the year every Wednesday and Friday is fasting, so they fast for the 40 days of Lent, plus the days they would have already been fasting.

Sunday night before fasting began was practically a holiday here as everyone binged on meat products! My supervisor in town invited me out to dinner for tebs, little pieces of cooked meat with injera.  The restaurant was filled to capacity with people getting their last fix of meat.

Last year I watched in amazement at the dedication Ethiopians have with this fasting schedule.  Orthodox butchers actually close shop for the fast!  Last year one of the volunteers decided to follow the fast and I remember thinking how unrealistic that sounded, but here I am a year later, 4 days into the Fasika tsom (Easter fast)! 

I have decided to see if I can stick to the diet until Easter, although I have been eating my breakfast still.  I figure starving myself isn’t going to help anyone.  Plus, they don’t even drink water before noontime, and since I try to run in the mornings that would be unhealthy to follow I figure.  Trust me, sorting through my food, avoiding anything egg or milk is hard enough! I rarely eat meat from a butcher here, but eggs are a regular part of my diet (scrambled eggs with injera is one of my favorite things to order when eating out), and any food I have from America seems to include something I’m not allowing myself to eat (especially that Valentines Day candy!).  Luckily, during the fast most restaurants don’t even offer anything but fasting food which lessens temptations when I’m not at home.

The children on my compound were playing in my house the other day and asked for caramela (candy) and I told them that I was sorry, but all the candy I have right now isn’t fasting candy.  This followed with the kids trying to convince me that Wednesday and Fridays during Easter fasting aren’t fasting days.  Haha. I’m no fool.  I don’t think my landlord’s family is too strict with fasting, but if I can’t eat the Reese’s than neither can they!

Grabbing some vegan delights on the post-MSC trip!

 
I think the hardest part of this challenge will be next week while in Addis for my group’s Mid-Service Conference, and the following week, which I’ll be traveling.  My favorite thing about being in Addis is loading up on ferengi food, including cheese!  I’ll keep my blog updated with my progress during the next 55 days.  And I’ll be looking forward to packages around Easter time filled with milky delights!

Finding Stillness

The key to living here is recognizing and enjoying life’s simple pleasures.  Letting that adorable child hold your hand on the way to town; taking time to read a book you’ve always wanted to read; saying a prayer of thankfulness when the water and electricity is working; finding a spot of stillness and peace.  When I was preparing for this Peace Corps experience I never thought I’d be reveling in any of these simple joys, but there are a lot of things about life here that I wasn’t necessarily prepared for.

Just the other day I had one of those moments of calmness in the midst of what seemed like a stressful, er, typical day in Dangila.  I decided to go for an afternoon walk through a new part of town—an activity which is asking for harassment on some level.  I realized that I had never ventured very far down my street to the left of my compound and decided spontaneously to explore.

Just a few blocks away from my house is a Mosque, which reliably wakes me with its “call to prayer” each morning, and whose minaret I consider an irreplaceable part of the Dangila skyline, but I’ve never walked past it before.  I headed in that direction and after passing the Mosque, as children began following behind me, I decided to make an ‘S’ shape, weaving through the blocks without a clear direction where I was heading.  Confused, and I assume bored of following the crazy ferengi, the children dispersed and I found myself staring down a donkey cart path that led away from town through a covering of acacia and eucalyptus trees.  I quickly took cover in the foliage of the forest, avoiding being spotted by nearby boys herding their sheep.  That path diverged into a narrow walking path, which Arbay (my dog) and I followed single-file.  I suddenly found myself surrounded on all sides by a forest; I was outdoors and completely alone (besides Arbay), for the first time in Dangila.

The only sound I could hear was the leaves on the trees rustling as the wind blew.  A sense peace and stillness came over me, and I was content to stay there the rest of the afternoon.  It was a calmness so rarely found as a foreigner here that I won’t soon forget.  I was with an antsy dog though, so our journey continued through to the other side of the forest where a field of young eucalyptus trees were growing, not yet knee-high.  I

followed on the edge of the tall forest, alongside the field, until I reached an open field where a group of boys were playing soccer.  I took a deep breath, knowing my serenity was going to be interrupted, but to my surprise a boy yelled out to me in English, “watch football!” and so I did.  I watched from the edge of the field as the boys kicked around the ball, and eventually they came over to talk to me.  I was impressed with their attitude towards me as a potential friend instead of a foreigner to gawk at inappropriately.  We talked in half English, half Amharic, and they were thoroughly entertained by my dog that shakes hands at the command of “selam.”

At the end, as I said I should go home, they made me promise to return the next day to play with them again.  A forest in Dangila that led me to a field of polite, eager young boys? I think I must have been dreaming.  I think I will explore new areas of Dangila on afternoon walks more often!

Ter Marium

The bus rumbled down a dirt road and Ethiopian music blared over the loud rumble.  The scene was anything but calm, nevertheless I was able to find a piece of serenity as I put in my headphones and watched the countryside pass by my window.  I was on my way to Mertolemarium to celebrate the biggest St. Mary’s Day of the year with fellow volunteers.

After a longer bus ride than I anticipated I was finally in Mertolemarium, where Group 3er Sher lives.  She was kind enough to host the volunteers in the area in her spacious house for the weekend.  There was going to be a parade through town, ending at the hilltop Monastery and the town’s namesake.  Not entirely sure what to expect from a holiday we’d never celebrated before (somehow last January in Ambo we didn’t see a celebration); we set out in the afternoon to join up with the procession.  Most Ethiopians were dressed in the traditional white clothing, and seeing everyone crowded in the streets carrying ornate parasols never fails to take my breath away.

Groups of men would chant to the beat of a drum and everyone would dance as they walked slowly through the hills of the town.  We, the white people, were of course, just as entertaining to the Ethiopians as they were to us.  One man in particular stood out as unique, as he was jogging down the middle of the crowded street chasing children with a whip! Behind him, were children clapping and dancing.  Our Ethiopian friends kindly explained that this is a tradition mostly in the Omo region of Ethiopia, but this man lives in Mertolemarium and carries on the tradition here, to make the kids dance!

It seemed like as far in front of me and as far in back as I could see the street was filled with mobs of people.  Part of the way through the parade we took a break to get a cold soda, get out of the sun, and lose the crowd of children we’d collected.  When we joined back with the parade after our refreshments though, the street was just as crowded! Earlier in the day we had visited the Monastery, which was built in the 16th century, so once the parade packed into the Monastery compound, we decided to head home and not endure the crowd anymore. 

That afternoon was of course filled with plenty of injera and wat, as all of Sher’s neighbors invited us to eat! She politely asked if it was really ok if all 8 of us come over for a meal, as that seems like a lot of people to feed, but as I’ve learned, entertaining is something Ethiopians do best.  In fact, as we sat in her neighbor’s house eating, the son of the woman feeding us, one of Sher’s good friends, watched two local guys come in to eat and he said, “See, I don’t even know who they are! But my mom will feed them!”  It is basically an open-door policy.  Anyone who comes in is fed.  After we were stuffed with many delicious stews, we went back to Sher’s house to rest, and other neighbors were upset we didn’t come to their houses too.  The fact that we’d just eaten more than enough didn’t seem like a good enough excuse.

While at Sher’s house two men came and dropped off a note for her, which invited her to a dinner the next night at the local Chinese camp, with road construction workers.  Most of the road work here is done by a team of Chinese guys, and right outside Mertolemarium is a big construction project.  Sher called one of her friends there and again said how many guests she had, and they still welcomed us with open arms! So the next night we took a car out to this Chinese camp, complete with hot water, air conditioning, and electricity by generator.  We sat outside in the cool evening air and shared in the most bizarre cross-cultural exchange of my life.  Half of the team was Ethiopian (mostly from Addis), our group of Americans, the team of Chinese men, along with an engineer from England, and one from Nepal!  Although egg rolls weren’t on the menu, we happily ate the injera, enjoyed the bonfire, and danced around to Ethiopian music.

The next day included a 5:30am trip to the bus station as we all departed in our respective directions.  Even though buses can’t leave until 6am, apparently they fill up fast, because they escorted our group to this bus in the back, as the rest were already full.  After a while of waiting and watching the other buses leave, the girl I was sitting with tells me that there is a ranking of buses, and this one, since it is the oldest, has to leave last! That pretty much set the pace for the day.  A painfully slow bus ride later I was finally back home in Dangila able to rest up after a wonderful weekend.