Defining Family

When I arrived in Ambo 10 weeks ago, I defined family as a blood relationship.  I did not quite understand any of the relationships between the members of my host family; in fact, I obsessed with untangling the branches of their family tree.  I discovered that my host sister, Almaz, who took care of me, was actually a distant niece of my host parents.  Her five sisters turned out to be one sister, two cousins, and two close friends.  I was told that my fellow trainee Jordan's host family is related to my host family, but it turns out they are just neighbors and friends.

Jordan and me with our host families, who may or may not be related.

In America I consider many of my friends to be family, that is just what happens with close relationships, but unlike the Ethiopians, when I introduce my friends, I still just call them "friends."  I soon realized that even when Almaz introduced me to her friends around town, she just said I was her sister, no explanation.  I slowly began calling each of my Ethiopian friends my brothers and sisters, crossing generations and families.  People who are technically just family-friends, or who should be my nieces and nephews, they became my Ethiopian siblings.

As I packed my bags into the Peace Corps vehicle the day before I moved out, my father, who does not speak a word of English, hugged me as we shook hands and kept saying "yene lej," my child.  The little girls I have befriended in the neighborhood who call me their sister wiped tears from their eyes as I said my final "goodbyes."  My little brother, Naboni, played outside my room this morning with his new soccer ball I gave him, as I ate my last home-cooked meal.  It is amazing what an impact these people have had on me in just 10 weeks.

I will miss so many things about living in Ambo.  I will miss watching the one Ethiopian channel, ETV, with my parents at night while attempting to practice my new Amharic words.  My father would smile and mutter, "gobez Jennifer, gobez."  I will miss the children who run into the streets and yell my name instead of the ever so popular "you!" I will miss that group of women that Almaz introduced me to, all of which I too can now call sisters.  I have loved having this experience and getting to know my host family, fellow volunteers, and Ethiopian training staff.  I also cannot wait for the adventures that are to come in Dangila over the next 2 years.  Tomorrow I swear-in as a Peace Corps Volunteer and Saturday I move to Dangila where I get to start what I came here to do.  I am looking forward to building friendships and family in my new home.

A Wedding and a Funeral

In my last three weeks of training in Ambo I had the opportunity to attend both a wedding and a funeral. Each event proved to be vastly different from its American counterpart. I felt that I was very culturally aware after seven weeks of cultural classes, but these events made me realize how much I still have to learn, and more importantly, experience.

Shortly after arriving back here from my site visit I was told that a neighbor had passed away. I still do not know much about her, but she was older and had been sick for a while; I had never met her though. My host family informed me that they were to attend a "Lexo Bet" but they were not able to translate what was going on through their broken English and my broken Amharic. Literally it translates as mourning house, which it turns out is a week-long event. The funeral takes place about three days after someone dies, and then mourning goes on for the next seven days. The event takes place in the home of the deceased, and a tent is erected outside on the street to accommodate additional guests. There is a lot of crying and wailing, but I did not actually go inside the Lexo Bet, I just observed from the outside.

Just last weekend, on my last Sunday in Ambo, I was invited to attend the wedding of a distant relative to my host family. The event started around noon time at the groom's house, which was decorated with a small stage fully furnished with my neighbor's living room set, surrounded by rows of benches for guests and covered with tarps to shade everything from the heat of the day.

It appeared more like a dinner theater set than the scene of a wedding. The groom appeared with all of his groomsmen, and with some loud chants and cheers the groom's guests all paraded out into the street and dispersed into their various cars. As ferengi (foreigners) we were escorted to the lead car with the elders where we had a good view of the entire line of cars following us.

After ten minutes and many car horns later, we arrived at the bride's home which was similarly decorated. Before we were allowed to enter the compound however, we had to get through a crowd of the bride's brothers. All the men had a big mock fight (although at times it seemed a little more hostile and a little less mock) to prove that the groom was strong enough. We then sat around as the bride, groom and the rest of the wedding party paraded in and sat in the sofas set atop the slightly raised stage.

The men chanting around the groom's car.

Many parts of the ceremony have been westernized, including the poofy white wedding dress, and obviously rented purple matching bridesmaid dresses. In class we learned about traditional weddings in smaller towns which have less western influence. Next, everyone in attendance took turns filling their plates at a buffet of various Ethiopian dishes. After eating lunch while listening to the very loud local music there was a small ceremony which included exchanging of rings followed by the wedding party parading back outside the compound. And that is just part one.

Flower girls and ring bearer during the ceremony.

That part ended around 4 in the afternoon, and then we all rested and reconvened at 6pm at the groom's house. The married couple proceeded into the tented area and all the guests again took turns at a buffet line piled with local food. Dinner was eaten at your bench seat in the crowded yard, followed by much dancing and singing to loud Ethiopian music. It was quite a scene, and I feel honored to have been invited.

The bride and groom at the evening reception.

Melkam Genna! Merry Christmas!

A little belated, I know, but Ethiopian Christmas was just celebrated yesterday (January 7).  I was very excited to have the day off class, and unsure of what to expect from the much-anticipated holiday.  There was not a huge build-up like in America with lights and decorations adorning the streets and houses a month beforehand, in fact little evidence of the holiday was present prior to January 7.  My sister's house produced a small Christmas tree the day of Christmas, but it was hardly a part of their celebration.  I was actually very puzzled by the lack of happenings on Christmas day.

Don't get me wrong, there were plenty of chickens killed, and several trainee friends helped kill goats at their respective houses in preparation for the big day.  But all in all it was, well, very much like an American Christmas in the fact that there was just a whole lot of lazing around!  There were no presents exchanged or football on TV, but the mass quantities of food and family gathering felt very normal.  I suppose food and family are universal for celebration.  After getting the chickens cooking in the morning, we proceeded to watch TV and eat for several hours.  I escaped to my friend's host family to see if they were doing anything out of the ordinary, but they too were just hanging out.  It really felt like an average Sunday in Ethiopia.

The liveliest festivity of the day was celebrating my host brother's 5th birthday! In the afternoon several relatives and neighbors came over with their children to join the party.  We sang several songs, lit-up a big "5" candle, took many pictures, and cheered loudly.  Each guest was served a plate with a small slice of cake, a cookie, cholo dabbo bits, and popcorn.  The cake, like all cake I have tasted in Ethiopia, is far more delightful to look at than to taste.  It is a shame really, that so much sugar is spooned into a single cup of coffee and yet the bakery lacks a drop! The cookie was a decent attempt at a Keebler treat, and the cholo dabbo are these tiny little pieces of cookie about the size of rice.  By the end of the day, I was sufficiently stuffed with Ethiopian food!
 

It was a semi-uneventful day, but through each meal I learned more about the Ethiopian culture.  I have been told that several other Christian holidays are the source of larger festivities, such as Easter and locally celebrated Timkat.  I look forward to celebrating those holidays with my new town later this year.

That being said, I still do not know where I will be living for the next 2 years!  This week feels like it is inching along though because all the trainees are looking forward to Saturday when they tell us our site placements!  Last weekend we had our second and final placement interview where they asked us a little about our site preferences.  Many people had requests such as a toilet, shower, internet, etc, but I came up with two main requests.  I want to work with HIV Prevention mainly, and I want a smaller town (which was later defined as a town the size of Ambo, where I am training or smaller).  I also mentioned that I like learning Amharic, but I think everyone mentioned that one.  There are several regions we could be placed where a smaller language may be necessary, but we will not know that for sure until after our Site Visit.

This Saturday not only reveals my home for the next two years, but it also brings training to its halfway mark! I cannot believe I have been living in Ambo for five weeks already, and I really cannot believe that I only will be living here for four more weeks.  Of the remaining five weeks, one whole week will be spent visiting my new site and meeting with my counterpart organization (during week 7 of my 10 training weeks).  I can only imagine how fast the time will fly!

Celebrating the Holidays

For the first time in a long time, I cannot say "Wow! The year has just flown by!" The opposite in fact, as I revisited memories from 2008; I cannot believe I managed to fit so much into one year! I had an amazing last semester of college, travelled Asia for a couple months, spent four wonderful months at home in Atlanta, and to top it all off I can check off month one of 27 in Ethiopia.  I cannot believe that I have only been here a month. I am so thankful for all the blessings in my life and all the adventures I was able to have this past year.

In order to properly welcome in 2009 the Peace Corps Trainees were itching for a night away from our host families.  And while the 9pm curfew on Christmas was respected for the most part, New Year’s Eve is just not the same if you cannot count backwards from 10 to 1 at midnight.  So with some dedicated PCTs and some slightly complicated bi-lingual party-planning, the 40 trainees were able to split the cost of a "meeting room" at the back of the pool area of a local hotel. Even more complicated, I anticipated, was communicating this slumber party plan to my host family, but surprisingly there was no problem.

It was a bizarre feeling being a 22-year-old having to ask permission to spend the night away from home, but it was also incredibly liberating to just feel like an American again for one night.  I would not consider anything here "normal" compared to the American equivalent, but packing that overnight bag felt incredibly refreshing. The night turned out to be one of the best New Year's Eve I have ever celebrated; a brief oasis in the middle of the desert.  My night of freedom partnered with the delivery of my first package (thanks mom and dad!) made me think for just a moment that things were normal.  In these high-stress situations, you need things like that to ground you.

Bonfire at our New Years celebration!

New Year’s Day was also wonderful, having just two hours of class and lunch at the school, and then we were able to enjoy the rest of the beautiful day.  Typically, January 1 is not spent at a pool lounging in the hot sun and jumping off rickety diving boards (in America at least), but it was the perfect first day of this much-anticipated new year!  I pray that each of you had a wonderful New Year celebration as well, and that 2009 is filled with joy and purpose.

Confusing Calendar

Adjusting to Ethiopia is continuing well, and I estimate that it will take approximately 26 more months to become completely acclimated to the culture and language.  Each day in class I learn something new about Ethiopia that makes me say to myself, "Oooooh! My Ethiopian family makes a little more sense now!"  I will attempt to summarize a couple of the cultural differences I am learning about so you can begin to understand Ethiopia a little bit better.

Time Schedules:
Well, let's first start with the Ethiopian calendar.  Most of the world has adopted the Gregorian calendar that contains the 12-month-system I have known my whole life.  Ethiopia remains on a completely separate system.  Their calendar has 12 months, each with 30 days, and then a 13th month with just five days (or six if it is a leap year, which, of course, does not coincide with the Gregorian leap year).  It's not that simple though, their calendar begins on the day we call September 11.  And, it's still 2001.

Thoroughly confused yet?
The time is also different!  When the sun rises (6am) here it is 12:00.  The day progresses accordingly, so what we refer to as noon is 6:00 in Ethiopia.  This means making a simple plan with your family for dinner involves a quick time calculation.  This also makes conveying that "New Years" is approaching incredibly difficult, as here it is four months into their year.  Christmas had its own complications as well since the religions here celebrate it on January 7 (Gregorian calendar).  Ok, my head hurts now.

Punctuality:
Being on time here is not exactly a priority.  Many times meetings are made by just naming a day in the future you care to meet and then just showing up at the person's workplace sometime that day.  And I have been told that sometimes the person you want to meet with may then be out of town or away for a few hours without a precise schedule.  As someone who is typically running slightly behind schedule, you would think that this culture would embrace me whole-heartedly, but it is not that simple.  Being a ferenji, I am expected to have a plan and stick to it.
 
Just the other day a note was given to the host families detailing our Christmas plans.  Peace Corps took us to Lake Wenchi for the day for a little adventure and a day off of school on Christmas Day.  That night they had a dinner for us at a nearby hotel, which the note said, lasts until 9pm.  Well, after our white-elephant gift exchange ended and we finally concluded our night of mini-celebration, I arrived home a little after 10pm.  I was received with less-than-open-arms and I even got a "shame shame" finger point! Oops!  

At our Peace Corps Christmas gift exchange.

Spending Christmas away from home was hard enough without having disappointed the host family by exceeding my curfew.  The following morning I waited for my breakfast, which is usually ready around 7:30am, so I can leave by 7:40am and make the 20-minute walk to the Technical College by 8am.  At 7:55am I decided to just leave my compound assuming there would be no breakfast, and I grabbed a Fiber One granola bar from the small stash I have remaining.  As I walked out of my compound I ran into my sister who was apparently just about to serve me breakfast, and through broken Amharic, she just could not understand why breakfast was not my first priority.  This confrontation went on a few minutes and I finally left in tears; my first Ethiopia breakdown.

The situation alone was not stressful enough to trigger crying, but paired with the scolding the night before, realizing I missed American Christmas, and my failure to communicate "I am late" caused my world to momentarily fall apart.  I spent that day picking up the pieces and being consoled by incredibly supportive new friends.  When all is said and done, this breakdown will undoubtedly pale in comparison to future breakdowns; crying is just one of my coping mechanisms.  That night though my sister gave me an envelope with a singing Christmas card inside, along with a couple pieces of chocolate.  It made the events of the previous 24-hours seem so insignificant.  Things will inevitably get lost in translation. If it isn't my lack of punctuality, or minimal knowledge of Amharic, it will certainly be the difference in clocks and calendars.  Nevertheless, it is all a part of being a Peace Corps volunteer!

Walking on Cultural Eggshells

We have been taught repeatedly how communication is different in Ethiopia.  Americans tend to tell it like it is, very directly, while Ethiopians would rather just let you continue doing something incorrectly as to not embarrass or correct you.  For example, when making a request it is common for an Ethiopian to respond in English "It is possible," but what they really mean is the American "maybe, "aka "not likely."  This past week we learned the Amharic word that actually means "it is possible" and to humor ourselves the volunteers have begun liberally throwing it into conversations just as the Ethiopians do with the English equivalent.

So in order to not offend any of the Ethiopian, I try to avoid those possible conflicts and cultural faux pas.  In language class this week while learning to conjugate the verb "to pass" and "to hand" I realized just how carefully I was treading around my Ethiopian family.  I began thinking about those words and found myself  zoning out of class thinking, I would never ask anyone in my family here to pass me something at dinner or make a special request. For one, I usually eat alone before everyone else, so it is not like there is a big table full of plates to pass around.

In America if I was over at a friend's house for dinner, I would feel comfortable politely asking my host for, let's say, a glass of water. I would be confident in my ability to communicate my gratitude for the act, and I understand the culture enough to know that this is an appropriate request.  I am also aware that this request would take a minute at the most with just a turn of a handle.

Now let's look at this same situation at my average dinner in Ethiopia.  I could fumble through the verb conjugations for making the request for a glass of water, in which it is likely that I would call my sister a "he" and I would inevitably forget the word for "please."  In addition, asking for a glass of water unexpectedly here would require a lengthy process of heating the charcoal, collecting water from the outside faucet, and bringing the water to a boil.  Phew!  I already usually eat before everyone and feel like people are waiting on me, which is awkward enough without additional requests.

This was my whole thought process while in language class as an excuse for not learning the words for making such requests.  At the end of this mental exercise I realized how much I have been walking on cultural eggshells in Ethiopia.  I also realized that these excuses were just that, excuses.  I will inevitably step on toes here, and mispronounce just about every word I learn, but luckily Ferenji (foreigners) get quite the learning curve as long as you don't mind the Habesha (Ethiopians) chuckle along the way.  Will I ask for that glass of water at dinner tonight?  "It is possible."

Home Delicious Home

As I mentally scanned my adventures over the past week, nothing seemed bizarrely appropriate to write about at first. The last week has flown by so fast that things here are beginning to feel normal in a way.  The last few nights though the Trainees have been getting together to continue a mini-celebration of Christmas by watching Holiday movies, which has brought me back to the reality of my situation.  Christmas sans cold weather, colorful lights and the smell of an Evergreen in your living room just feels like pretending it is Christmas in July.

Before I get all nostalgic about American Christmas, I will get back to telling you about life in Ethiopia!  Last week I remembered a dream for the first time since leaving home in which I had this incredible shower.  Since then I have also dreamed I had a chance to go home and pack another suitcase, and another wonderful dream just about getting to wear jeans.  Simple pleasures in the States are now boosted to luxury status.

The hardest word yet. Trying repeating that one!

The Amharic lessons are coming along, and each day I feel slightly more prepared to live here for two years.  Don't get me wrong, it is also one of the hardest and most frustrating things I have ever had to endure, but sharing that pain with 39 other volunteers helps ease the stress.  Walking home the other day with a fellow trainee we realized that we knew the word for "home" and the word for "sweet," and we came up with "Bit Yetafetal Bit," Home Sweet Home.  After some deliberation, we realized that it actually translated "Home Delicious Home," which funny enough is the opposite of reality.  While injera (the sour-pancake eaten at every meal) is growing on me, so is my longing for Taco Bell and Chick-Fil-A.  In fact, that is now a common leisure activity between classes, naming the food you miss the most.
 

In other news, last Sunday (our only full day off the whole week), a group of around 30 of us decided to climb to the top of the mountain just outside of town.  For those of you who know Greenville, this is no Paris Mountain.  The Tulle Mountains run a few Kilometers away from Ambo, which allow for gorgeous picturesque views from anywhere in town.  We headed out at 7:30am following a local guide carrying an AK-47.  Four grueling hours later, we reached the top to the mountain.  The already-high altitude of Ambo combined with a lack of exercise for weeks now led to one of the hardest hikes of my life!  Let's just say I will never look at those mountains the same way ever again.  The view was breathtaking though, and if internet ever seems to move faster than that seven-hour hike, I will be sure to upload a picture or two.

Life here is definitely different, and never less than a grand adventure.  I am constantly discovering new things about life here in Ethiopia and the culture never ceases to amaze me.  I just found out today that the shed in the back of my compound houses a massive cow, which my mom milks to get the butter that has been in most of my meals since arriving here!  "Endaaaay??" I asked ("Ohhhhh?").  I had no idea!  The work that goes into each meal is immeasurable.  I am loving these new discoveries and I am enjoying being further accepted into this society each and every day.

Ene Yaselam Guad Nen

My language group during class.

"I am Peace Corps" we were taught to say in Amharic.  It was an attempt to teach us how to ask what someone's profession is, and tell ours in return, but the literal translation of "Peace Group" usually elicits more confusion than understanding.  My Amharic is coming along.  I am attending daily language sessions with Tigist, my Ethiopian teacher, and three other volunteers in my community cluster.  The combination of a formal class and living with a family that speaks very little English affords me a great opportunity for practice, which is the only way to truly learn a language!

This past weekend was somewhat anticipated, and somewhat dreaded.  Sunday brought our first completely free day, and many of the volunteers were unsure about spending the entire day with host families.  Overall, it did not really seem like a weekend except for my much-needed two-hour nap.  Spending free time here can come in a variety of activities, and unless you can finagle some quality alone time in your locked room, you are guaranteed to be prodded by the local children for money, and attention. I have befriended a few children on my block and they walk with me for about 5 minutes on my walk home, which is completely entertaining.

                                                                                               
Saturday afternoon, after school, I had lunch with other PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees) at a café in town.  One local juice treat is called spreece, which means "mixed" in Amharic, and depending on the café, you never know what you are going to get.  It usually consists of a variety of fruit pureed into this thick, slightly chilled (if you are lucky), juice that you eat with a spoon.  I know it sounds unappetizing, but the main fruit used is avocado.  Puree avocado sans guacamole seasoning did not sound like a treat to me either at first, but one bite and I was hooked!  Yesterday's juice also had guava, pineapple, mango, and banana layered -- so delicious!  After juice and a bit of local cuisine for lunch I returned home where it was promised I could watch/help them make Dura Wat, a famous traditional meal in Ethiopia.

A little background: women here do all the housework and cooking, and as a guest I am usually lumped into the pool with the men, so I had to specifically ask to help with the cooking.  I spend most of my time with my sister, Almaz, at her sister's nearby house, with mostly girl cousins and sisters.  It is a lot of women -- most of them in their twenties.  So I enjoyed joining in to help with the cooking and finally be seen as "one of the girls."

Kids here play with their food too...

Dura Wat (and, by the way, I am completely spelling all these Amharic terms phonetically, and most likely incorrectly) is a chicken dish served on injera.  More background: injera is this slightly sour dough mixture made into thin pancakes and eaten at every meal in place of using silverware.  You simply use the injera to gather up bites of food and eat with your hands—actually not nearly as simple as the locals make it look.

So, Saturday I helped make Dura Wat at my sister's house.  It was an all-afternoon affair, which included killing the chicken that had woken me up for days, preparing a bucket-full of onions, grinding up hot peppers mortar-and-pistol-style, adding a healthy amount of oil, and stirring a pot for hours.  I took plenty of pictures, taught my host-nephew how to use an iPod, and was completely enthralled by the lengthy process.  I cannot believe the amount of work that goes into making one dish; needless to say, I savored every bit of dinner that night.

Outside the Ethiopian Orthodox church service.

Sunday I experienced an Ethiopian Christian Orthodox church, learned how to make injera, had the inaugural meeting of a PCT Bible Study, hand-washed/line-dried my clothes, and even fit in a nap!  Every second of every day is a cultural learning experience (nap included because I fell asleep to the sound of cows mooing and Amharic chatter nearby).

I love the adventure and challenge that comes with every day, and I chuckle at the things I now consider normal:  Dodging the baby cow in the grassy area of my complex, fashioning on my head lamp and rolling up a handful of toilet paper before making the short trek to the latrine, holding hands with random little children that approach me on my walk to school, sleeping beneath a mosquito net each night (well, that last one actually just makes me feel like a little princess).

There are so many more stories to tell, and culture to explain, but dinner is almost ready and this post is getting long! My address for training is still posted on the right of the blog.  Mail is loved, so please send me something.  The process is slow, but I will try to respond via email or letter to all items received.  Much Ethiopian love.

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!

                    

My Life as a Roller Coaster

I have never in my life been on such a ride before.  Every day, every minute is a new emotion as I discover my new life here in Ethiopia.  This is something I never anticipated or prepared for, but I am trying to accept and process each new and mixed emotion as it comes.  I feel like I am on the edge of a breakdown one minute and completely at home the next.  The smallest gesture or smile will bring a tear to my eye, and most of the time I cannot figure out if I am happy, sad or overwhelmed.
 
All of these emotions have made me question my whole experience, which is also something I did not prepare for.  I have been so certain that Peace Corps is the right choice for me for months now, and so it never crossed my mind that I would question things once I got here.  However, I now find myself questioning who I am, why I am here, what my purpose in life really is, and how I can truly help this world.

 
I have also realized in the past week that I love a grand challenge.  I have experienced more bizarre moments throughout this past week than I have in the whole of my life prior to this week.  I am living with an Ethiopian family, who does not speak English, and whose customs are vastly different from anything I have experienced before. I have bathed from a bucket, dodged cattle on the main road of my town, and survived a pit latrine.  I would say I am adjusting to the culture pretty well.

 

The group of 40 Peace Corps volunteers has been scattered around the town of Ambo, Ethiopia living with host families for the next 10 weeks. Each day we spend hours in class learning the local Amharic language, cultural lessons, and technical job training.  Each night we return home to our host families where just about anything is bound to happen.  The other volunteers are such a great support group; hearing everyone's incredibly different host family stories and bonding through our shared awkward moments thus far is vital.  I value these new friendships and their support through this roller coaster of emotions.

 
Tonight is night three with my host family, the Bokosa Family (although they do not have a family name like at home, but Bokosa is my host father's name).  I am still figuring out how everyone is related as they do not have a word in Amharic for cousin, so each new relative is translated to me as brother or sister.  My main liaison is Almaz, my host family sister, who is in her late twenties and her son Naboni, who will turn five on Christmas (which is January 7th here).   We spend much of the time with her 5 "sisters" who are all around her age and live about a block away.  It is a group of wonderful women and when we visit with them only one thing is guaranteed: plenty of laughing!  I am pretty sure a majority of the laughing is directed towards me and my broken Amharic, but when I step out of the situation I realize how hilarious this whole thing is and I join in the laughter.

 
My family here has seen pictures of all of those wonderful people I love back home.  I showed them the small photo album I brought and explained in broken Amharic/English each picture. They all smiled so big at the end and said "Conjo. Conjo."  It means good; beautiful; the best. They are right.

All That You Can't Leave Behind

As my departure date gets closer (just one week left now), my preparations have turned from practical to panicked. I am constantly debating which luxury items I cannot live without for 27 months. One "must-have" is music, as my ultimate tool for relaxation and coping. Luckily, with the invention of the iPod, pretty much any music I can get my hands on can be packed weight-free. So, I have decided that in order to be completely prepared, I need to download every record and CD in my house to my iPod.

The journey of unpacking my parents' old albums (LPs), and my brother's and my inaugural CD collection has been quite entertaining. And as much as I believe that my preparation for Africa is officially complete with the addition of Coolio's sophomore album to my iPod, I must soon turn procrastination into productive packing.

My most-recent CD import is the U2 album appropriately titled, "All That You Can't Leave Behind." Pondering this title has since inspired not only this post, but my packing. The hard part is fitting those things that I can't leave behind in my 80-lb allotment. Frustration sets in as I realize that simply rearranging items in my over-weight bag is not working, I must choose a few more items to unpack.

I have a feeling that I will be repacking until the morning of December 2, when I will be forced to make those final decisions.

Training Update

This week I found out a little bit more about my assignment and training. I will be leaving DC on December 3rd for Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia with my trainee group. There we will spend 3 nights in a hotel continuing with pre-training activities. Then we all travel to Ambo where we will each move in with a host family and begin our 10 weeks of intensive training.

I am very excited for this long-awaited adventure to start!