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.

Dusty Season

Ethiopian spring has sprung! The only big differences here are that pollen is replaced by dust, green grass is replaced with dirt, and colorful flowers are replaced by, well, the lack of anything colorful at all.  Having moved to Dangila last February this was the first season I experienced here, and since then apparently I blocked that memory from my mind.  I completely forgot how hot it can get here, and how dusty everything becomes.  My supervisor even brought up my joke last spring about “which road is not dusty?” (see blogs from last spring) and we laughed about it in the office for a good hour this morning.

Even though the “air condition” right now is not exactly favorable (air condition here literally means the condition of the air, having nothing to do with machines that alter temperatures) I still find myself in one of the happiest states that I think I’ve been in since I arrived.  Friends are always surrounding me (Ethiopian and foreign), work is good (meaning it is existent), and I am loving Dangila.  Last fall I made a deal with myself to stay in site for an entire month without leaving, and let’s just say it didn’t happen.  I always like spending weekends with friends and taking advantage of every opportunity that arises.  But this month I’m just completely happy and content here is Dangila, and I will easily spend a month here without leaving.

The other day I was working the HIV testing event at the high school and happen to leave the compound to walk home for lunch at the shift change between 9th and 10th grade.  The shift change is basically my worst nightmare; a sea of turquoise uniforms, 5,000 teenagers, all without somewhere to be for the next 15 minutes, and I found myself in the middle.  A year ago, the event would have brought me to tears; I would have drowned in the sea of the harassment, feeling like an outsider.  This year I swam through that sea with confidence.  Not a single person yelled “ferengi,” but instead the students called my name, chatted with me as I walked, and greeted me with friendly handshakes.  I’m finally starting to feel like I belong here, and I’m a part of this community.

 

I just finished week 4 of English/Life Skills classes with my two classes of high school girls, I have meetings set up to start a business project with those 10 boys I helped out with last fall, and there is less than a week until the big Easter celebration (and the end of fasting!).  Yesterday I had a sudden urge to clean my house (a rarity) and found myself mopping my floors a few minutes later.  Yenebeb (the 9-year-old son of my landlord) walked by my door and asked with a smile, “are you cleaning for the holiday?”  A common Ethiopian habit is to clean everything before big holidays (I suppose Americans do this too) because they always host the neighbors and want their house to look nice.  I smiled and said “yes” figuring it was easier than admitting I hadn’t mopped my house in probably 8 months.  No time like the present for a little spring cleaning!

Time is starting to fly by during year 2 in Ethiopia.  The countdown is at 9.5 months, which doesn’t seem like enough to finish all I want to do here.  Before I know it dusty season will become muddy season, muddy season will fade, and my departure will be imminent.

Struggles & Successes

Recently some of my friends in group 3, who just moved to site a month ago, asked me why no one ever told them how hard the first few weeks at site were going to be.  Looking back on that first year, especially that first month, I know how hard it is… beyond hard actually.  It is a personal battle of trying to find yourself in this foreign town, and trying to find your purpose for being here, a purpose to justify the struggle.  It is a challenge so much tougher than anyone warns you about or you ever imagined while filling out those Peace Corps applications in the comfort of your American home, as wanderlust occupies your thoughts.  I’m not sure if my blog properly reflected the struggles I endured, but my mom does call me her little optimist, and I always try to look on the bright side of things.  And while those first days at site were filled with personal battles, they were also filled with personal successes.  To invest yourself, your life, in your community is the only way you become a part of that community.  It is uncomfortable and tiring, but enduring those tough times is how you eventually find yourself.  Only then can you make changes here, and only then can you grow as a person.  That is how I viewed the beginning of my Peace Corps journey.

Peace Corps lunch in Dangila.

One month away from those everyday struggles and I’ve once again found myself in this battle of finding my purpose.  It took a week for me to realize I’d forgotten to downshift back to Ethiopian time and slow down my pace of life again.  And knowing I’ll be finishing my Peace Corps experience in one year brings both excitement and anxiety.  The endless possibilities for life after Ethiopia keep my mind busy, but my current lack of work makes me feel lost in Dangila once again.  I don’t just want to survive here for another year; I want to make the difference I came here to make.

After a week of feeling unsettled back in town I finally feel like I have my African shoes back on the right feet.  I still get the “ferengi” beckon when I walk through unfamiliar parts of town, and I haven’t figured out my purpose for coming to Dangila, but I do feel like I’m ready for my second year of service.  I know who my Ethiopian counterparts are in town that will help me to make changes in this community.  In addition, I have several potential projects that I hope to see come to fruition this next year.  I’ve been through the toughest part of my service, and I am certain this next year will simply fly by, so I am excited to see what 2010 has in store for me here in Dangila.

Farewells and New Faces

About a week ago all the volunteers were able to welcome their new site neighbors from Peace Corps Group 3 during their week-long site visit. I am very excited that two nearby towns will have volunteers from the new group. Towns just twenty minutes north of Dangila, and thirty minutes south, by bus, welcomed new volunteers! It just so happened that the new group had their Site Visit week during many of Group 1 volunteer’s last week at site. While this makes for a convenient handoff of furniture and goods for sites with replacement volunteers, it also was a dose of reality about all the changes taking place. The whirlwind of transition all around me is hard to absorb from my viewpoint in the eye of the storm. I was able to say goodbye to a couple of Group 1 friends during the week, and the farewells were certainly hard to take. Seeing neighbors, and confidants, depart from this adventure was bitter sweet. They will be missed. It is a turning point in my time here; changing from second-in-command to leaders-of-the-pack. Now it is my group’s turn to dole out advice and pretend we know what we’re doing. And in many ways I don’t feel ready to do that. But I also realize that it is just part of the Peace Corps lifecycle, and it is a required step so that one day I too will return to America… or somewhere. With all of this change, and the approach of the one-year mark away from home, I am happy to report that I am finding my place in the world. I still cannot describe a “typical day” and I haven’t a clue what I want to do upon finishing my service, but I like the pace of life here, and couldn’t imagine leaving quite yet. That being said, one year away from my family has been one of the hardest things I have ever had to endure. And in less than a month now I have the privilege of introducing my family to Ethiopia (and visiting Tanzania and Egypt with them!). It is a trip of a lifetime, and cannot wait to reunite with them, have an adventure, and show them my new home.

New Sites, Old Friends

Another month has passed in what seems like seconds.  It feels like just last week I was contemplating my birthday celebration and already it is time to turn the calendar once again.  It is hard to believe I have been here now for eight months.  I try to capture those eight months in my mind to comprehend all that has happened, all that has changed, but I cannot; it is like trying to hold water in my cupped hands.  This is my life now, and it is equally hard to imagine life back in America.  Costcos and Targets, public drinking fountains and air conditioning seem like a fairyland, not a reality I will return to one day.

I am part of Group 2 here in Ethiopia since Peace Corps returned in 2007, and as my group begins our eighth-month, Group 1 enters their 22nd.  Some of my good friends in Ethiopia are from the first group and it is fun to daydream with them about their upcoming integration back into American life.  I realize as I read this that, what to me is “daydreaming,” to my friends is their upcoming reality.  It is easy to get caught up in future plans and joke about common amenities we do not even think about anymore.  It is hard to realize that these dear friends of mine will soon be leaving and my time here in perspective has only just begun.  Months now can be talked about as if they were weeks, or days. Saying out loud that I will be here for about 18 more months is no longer an amount of time that scares me. But knowing Group 1 will be leaving in four months; that amount of time does not seem like enough.

Dear friends.

As part of the ever-rotating Peace Corps cycle, one group’s departure means a new group’s arrival.  Two months from now, in October, Group 3 arrives for their 10 weeks of training.  And while I don’t like to think about my friends leaving, knowing new people are coming takes my mind away from that a bit.  This past week I was able to join Peace Corps staff on “Site Development, Round 1” as they prepare for Group 3.  In order for PC to place the new volunteers, they do three rounds of site development in towns around the country to find places for volunteers to live after their training.  There are several towns around my part of the country (including two in my zone, which is like a county) that are being considered.  If any Group 3 people are reading this, some of you could be my future neighbors!  I enjoyed getting out of Dangila with PC staff to visit surrounding towns and help with the preparation process.

There are going to be a lot of changes with the training and counterpart selection that are new and exciting to all of us.  I’m sure I will be writing about these upcoming changes in my life here a lot in the next few months, but for now it is fun to be a part of something new, even though I’m not looking forward to seeing friends leave.

My Wandering Thoughts

The last week, since arriving back at training from my site visit, has slowly progressed, bringing us to week 9 of training.  Being back in Ambo has brought many comforts, as I consider my room here a pseudo home, and I realized while away how much I missed my host family.  This past week has also made me appreciate my family of fellow trainees, especially with the departure of two friends.  Our group of 40 is now down to 38, making last week a roller coaster of emotions in itself. Back-to-back days of departures left our group a little shaken-up.  I think many of us had a naive hope that our group would defy the odds and stick together until the end, but fate is often times out of our hands.
 

My extended host family.

Each left for very a different reason, and each departure also left me with a head full of new thoughts.  First reactions included shock and sadness, followed by the realization of how close I am to home.  Seeing a friend leave made me imagine what it would be like arriving back in Atlanta in just a few days.  I had not seriously imagined leaving all of this yet. In a way, imagining that became tempting, and I realized that I could regain all those comforts I miss in what seemed like the snap of a finger.
 
My life is completely different than it was just two months ago, and many days I crave pieces of my life from America, but more than that I want an adventure here in Ethiopia.  I am not at all ready to go home; in fact, I haven't even begun my journey as a volunteer yet.  All of these thoughts were a bizarre mental exercise, which made Ethiopia seem almost too close to home, and it made my time here feel almost too temporary.  As you can tell by my scattered thoughts, my mind is still wandering somewhere between American and Africa.  At the end of the day, I am missing my departed friends, but I am still hopeful and looking forward to everything Ethiopia has to offer.

Peace Corps training lunch table.

In the meantime, I am ever so ready to swear-in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer.  I love spending time with the trainees. The companionship of anyone who speaks English fluently, comprehends my sarcasm, and understands Western culture will never be under-appreciated again. I am also ready though to begin what a came here to do—whatever that might be.  Just over a week now until I move from Ambo to my site where I get to start setting up my new house, and my new life in Dangila.  I am scared and clueless, but also anxious and prepared.  Life is meant to be a daring adventure, and I intend to keep it that way.