They Ask, I Attempt to Answer

I cook my meals from scratch each night. I hand wash and line dry my laundry each week.  I wake up to a rooster crowing.  My walls are made of mud and straw.  I boil my water before drinking it.  The electricity goes out at least one day a week, not because of an accident, but just because there isn’t enough of it to go around. I bucket-bathe in about a gallon of water. I can see the chickens that lay the eggs I eat.  I could go on and on...

Life is different here.

Ethiopians bringing home their sheep they purchased at the market.

Ethiopians often ask me, “How is America different than here?”  I usually chuckle, and with a smile I say, “I’m not sure where to start.”  Trying to explain the difference in simple English is almost impossible, but I try, one question at a time.

“Do you have coffee there too?”
“Yes, but we don’t roast our own beans, we drink it is large mugs, and a machine makes it for us.”
I spare the details about how the machine can even have an alarm on it so it is ready as soon as you wake up.  Coffee here is a huge part of the culture.  Every day most households go through the lengthy process involved in making coffee truly from scratch.  My neighbor, and good friend, told me one day while we were in the middle of a coffee ceremony, “Drinking coffee here is a way to fill time.” I could not have said it better, but it is more than that.  In America, I would not hesitate to run by Starbucks by myself just because I craved a strong cup of coffee, but here drinking coffee is about spending time with family and friends.

“How is the air condition different?” (They mean the weather).
“Well, we have four seasons.  Part of the year it is freezing, and the other half if often hotter than here!”
Average temperature in Dangila is about 80 degrees, although parts of Ethiopia are very hot, and parts are very cold depending on altitude.  When it starts to get dark outside it will cool down to about 70 degrees in Dangila, one of my favorite parts of the day.  It is usually around that time when the Ethiopians start offering me either scarves and jackets, unable to comprehend that I could find that temperature comfortable in a simple t-shirt. I do not mention that most people in America have machines in their homes that regulate the temperature, typically to this temperature they find unbearable.

“Are there poor people in America?”
“Oh, yes!”
“What? How? I don’t think so.”
I attempt to explain that not all Americans are rich.  This one shocks most Ethiopians.  The main point I try to emphasize is that in Dangila you can easily buy a meal from the equivalent of US$.60.  Therefore, in Ethiopian, you only need to make a few US Dollars each day to live comfortably with a home and food.  In America, a cheap meal might be $5, so while people make more money, the cost of living is higher; it is all relative.  I’m still trying to make people understand this. I am pretty sure most people still do not believe me.

“Are there rural parts of America?”
“Yep, of course! We have a lot of farmland!”
“Really?”
“Yes, but our farms usually have electricity, and they can easily communicate with urban areas.”
They stare blankly.  I think they are trying to picture what this would look like.

“Are you fine?”
Actually, this question is usually asked by people riding by on their bicycles or passing in a mini three-wheeled taxi. I’m not quite sure who taught them this English phrase, or who told them to ask it not as you approach a person, but just as you are past the person you are asking, but it seems like the whole country has picked up on it.

When I get the generic question, “what is America like?” I sometimes mention machines- because we use many machines, I have realized, to do our work for us.  Sometimes I talk about the weather.  Other times I think about it and realize life is not all that different.  In both places, people wake up earlier than they care to and count the hours at the end of the day until we can spend time with friends and family.  People still eat food, take baths, wash clothes, and laugh at jokes; it is just the details that are different.  If nothing else, those details make this experience completely humbling.  I use to complain about having to wash my clothes in a washing machine. Now I respectfully wash my clothes using a handy bucket system I learned from the Ethiopians. I use to dread doing dishes by hand in college.  Now I smile as I pour water into buckets and lather the suds to wash each dish without the running water I used to take for granted.  It seems like the Ethiopians have taught me more about life so far, than I have taught them.

My Compound and Its Pecking Order

New puppy checking out mama cow.

With all the animals running around my compound I am still trying to figure out who actually lives here and who has just found his way through a hole in the fence for a visit.  My compound has a ten-foot high cement wall around two sides and a wood/metal fence around the other two sides.  The latter of which is known to have several holes, found recently by my growing puppy.   Within my compound, there is one main house where my landlord, his wife, and their three children reside.  Beside the main house is a long building containing five rooms, with three separate doors.  Two of those rooms and one of those doors belongs to my humble abode, where my puppy and I reside.  The other three rooms are the home to another family with just a little 10-month-old baby.

As you walk through the yellow door to my compound, you find the main house in front of you on the right, and the longer building I live in on the left. In front of the house is a small yard area usually filled with construction material belonging to my landlord who works as a contractor.  Between the two houses is the walkway to the backyard, which contains a few rooms used as the landlord’s kitchen and housing for various animals. 

Part of the backyard is partitioned off to house the large cow at night (see the post titled “My Undefined Role” for more details about her); another partition stands to hold loads of scrap wood used for fire, and in the center of the main yard area there is a small water tower and faucet where we all get our water.  This tower in the backyard creates the perfect circle, around which the animals tend to chase each other, battling for a dominate position and respect.  This brings me to the subject of my ponderings this week- the pecking order forming in my compound.  Allow me to first list the order, and then I will try to explain some rather entertaining stories that lead me to these conclusions.

Human adults
The large mother cow
Human children
The baby calf
Arbay, my puppy
Chickens

Now each of these steps contains obvious exceptions.  First, I have seen the children, and adults often fall down on this list to just above chickens, as a small puppy brings them to shrieks and screams.  Rather entertaining for me, especially when it is children who come into my compound uninvited to sneak a peak at the “ferengi house.”  I also might add that Arbay has never bitten anyone, as I would then find their horrified reaction as appropriate rather than amusing. I have often been one of the adults to fall below the large cow on the list, but on principle it is the humans who corral the cow into her sleeping area each night, so she will remain below humans on the list.

Arbay, as she grows bigger by the day, grows equally braver. I predict in another month that she will be just about equal with the calf.  I have often seen her curiously approaching the calf, whom we call Teja (Amharic for calf, and therefore his name), and each time she gets slightly more daring.  However, she remains second to the bottom on this list because as she grows, so does Teja, and I can’t help but think of the consequences of Teja’s agitated head-first charges once he grows horns bigger than his mother’s.

Arbay also has been known to drop to the bottom of this list.  Most of the time the chickens do not stand a chance against her; a few times I have seen her scare them so much that they have actually made the flight over the ten-foot compound wall!  I do not however feel pity for them, because it is that rooster who also serves as my alarm clock each morning before the sun even dares to show its face.  One of the funniest interactions I have seen though was when the chicken turned around mid-chase, pecking her beak back at Arbay, causing her to become the chased for the first time in their relationship!

My Newest Addition

My puppy living on the street a week before I got her in February.

One of the hardest parts of living here in Ethiopia is living alone.  As a recent college graduate, I have never lived anywhere besides my parents’ home and on-campus housing at college, which means my transition here is more than just cultural.  I am growing up in many ways I never imagined I would.  I guess I never thought about the situation I was entering into until now; everything during training went by so fast. I was busy it seemed like every hour of the day with class, friends and host family.  Somehow, the whirlwind of events cleared and I found myself living, alone, in Africa.

Like with anything in my life that startles me, I rectified the situation.  Call me crazy, but I am now the proud owner of an Ethiopian puppy.  I could not resist. Her little face was too cute and I have seen what happens to dogs on the street here, it is not pretty (they are mostly turned into vicious guard dogs).  Only a few baths later and she could almost be mistaken for an American dog.

Playtime with the baby cow on my compound.

I thought I was crazy myself about 48 hours after she arrived in my house. Thinking to myself, I’m not responsible enough for a living animal. Given, I have had family dogs practically my whole life, but it never occurred to me that I was only 10 when we were raising my current family dog.  There is a big difference between raising a puppy when you are 10 surrounded by family and raising a puppy in Africa by yourself when you are 22. The responsibility level goes up a bit.

I know I am ridiculous for getting her, but honestly, she makes my house feel more like home all of a sudden (and my dad thinks it was a good idea! Right, Dad?).  I have someone to come home to, and company late at night when I start thinking those scary thoughts about living alone.  I must admit, I do not live completely alone.  My house is in a gated compound where two families also live, but still I cook for one, and find myself without an English-speaking companion.  The puppy, Arbay, is a great friend, and she listens to my English as though she understands every word (except “my house is not a bathroom” it seems).

Arbay has allowed me to get to know my community even better also! Each afternoon the children on my compound and I run around the yard together feeding her injera as we play.  One day I went in search of the local Muslim butcher, because most butchers are closed during this Orthodox Christian 55-day fasting period, to add some protein to the puppy’s diet.  A few hours later I had met the family that owns the shop, been invited into their home, downed a few rounds of coffee, and made a collection of new friends!

All wrapped up around the poles!

 Almost every day I walk her to my favorite café for lunch where we sit outside together while I eat my daily dose of Ethiopian food, passing her scraps of injera.  If a ferengi walking down the street in my town draws attention, a ferengi leading a puppy around with a leash multiplies that number by 10 at least.  But, now when I leave her at home the people I pass on that route ask, “Where is your puppy?”

I also realize now that I am not alone, even without the puppy.  If she somehow finds a hole in the fence and sneaks outside the compound, I have the whole neighborhood helping me find her.  Then the children that live in my compound go around with scraps of wood blocking all the possible escape routes around the fence.  Even as I write this, the children on my compound just knocked on my door announcing there is a coffee ceremony in my landlord’s house.  I am not alone here even though sometimes it can feel like it.  Ethiopians are so warm and hospitable it amazes me.  Nevertheless, the puppy has afforded me some new and wonderful experiences and I am so blessed to have her in my life now.

To answer the most commonly asked question from Ethiopians, no, she is not a ferengi dog; she is Habesha (Ethiopian).  I think they are surprised because they have never seen a clean dog before.  And, to answer the most commonly-asked question from home, yes, I plan on bringing her home with me. It is possible to do, and I have gotten some advice from a current volunteer who plans to do the same, so here’s hoping that works!