Unexpected Goodbyes

Where to begin? Some weeks pass and it seems like there is nothing significant to report, while others come to an end and I’m not sure exactly how I’m suppose to convey all my happenings.  This past week was the latter.

The week started out as normal: A little work, a lot of time to visit neighbors, but nothing out of the ordinary.  Until Lindsay, my closest neighbor from my group of volunteers (about one hour south), called to say that she decided it was her time to go home.  It is a personal decision we each have to make, every day, to stay or to go, and she finally felt it was time to say ‘goodbye.’  I of course made the day trip down to say my ‘goodbyes’ and help her with some errands around town.

The visit was sad, but necessary, and I was happy to spend some time with her in her town before she left.  One of my favorite things I was able to help her with was giving away some of her extra clothes to her Ethiopian friends.  The thing was, they didn’t know yet that she was leaving, they simply thought she was giving away some extra things.  They were so grateful and happy; Each left with just a few new items that undoubtedly doubled their wardrobes.  The excitement on each of their faces was priceless.  What came later was a little less heart-warming…

Lindsay and her dog, Sam

She finally let the cat out of the bag, telling the people on her compound that she was leaving, and that cat truly was the catalyst for mayhem.  People whom she loved dearly were all vying for everything she had left.  It was, in a word, ugly.  The families that you share a compound with are the people you interact with everyday, the people you love as your own family.  To see those people treat you like the rich white person you’ve struggled for over a year to distance yourself from, especially during your final hours, is hard.

In theory, the other Peace Corps Volunteers are no better.  We all came and took our turns looting through her extra stuff in order to empty her house.  We did it before Group 1 volunteers left also, and I know Group 3 will do the same with my stuff.  It’s the Peace Corps cycle.  Nothing is wrong with that.  So what is the problem when Ethiopians want the same thing?  I’m not sure.  Now maybe it will be less of a surprise when my turn comes in early 2011.

I returned home, a little shaken and heartbroken from the events in Lindsay’s town, only to encounter my own distressing trials.  Friday evening when my landlord’s wife called me into her house for a coffee ceremony, I expected nothing unusual.  I sat through the first two rounds as usual and only before cup three did my suspicions arise.  A crew of workers came in, parking a big flatbed semi outside the compound.  They participated in the final round of coffee and then, bam, started carrying out the sofas practically from beneath us.  My landlord’s family was moving.

You may have seen pictures in my recent album of the celebration I attended about a month ago at my landlord’s new house and ask yourself, ‘didn’t she see this one coming?’  The answer: yes.  But while I knew they were building a new house, and knew it was completed sans plumbing, they kept avoiding talking about their departure date when I would bring it up.  Indirect communication is common here, doubled by the fact that I don’t understand everything people say in Amharic anyways (my landlord does not speak English, nor is he a sympathetic listener when I speak Amharic), meaning that I am often out of the loop.  But this one hit me like a freight train.

The celebration last month as they finished building my landlord's new house.

And I couldn’t even tell you why, but as they loaded the last of their stuff into the truck, ready to haul it 5 blocks away (yes, their new house is just 10 minutes by foot from my house) I was holding back tears.  You never really appreciate things until they are gone, right? And while I’ve adjusted to the culture and people here, change is still hard.  I couldn’t help but feel a tad bit abandoned as they pulled away.  I thought they were my family; how could they just leave me?

My landlord's new house.

But as always, when necessary, we re-adapt, we create a new normal, and we figure out things slowly.