A Day In The Life

Today was a very typical “Masha” day. Since I tend to write only when something interesting happens (or not at all) I decided that today would make a good blog entry.

I wake up at 7:30am because of a phone call. It’s an Addis number so I answer it, hoping it’s PEPFAR with news about the youth center. It isn’t. It is a very loud, confused and angry Ethiopian. He starts talking to me and I tell him he has the wrong number, and then he wants to know who I am and what number he called and, of course, he was yelling the whole time. I eventually hang up on him since it’s a pointless conversation and a waste of both of our time. Also it’s early. After the phone call I go back to bed, not wanting to wake up annoyed. Sometime around 9:00 I wake up again, put on music and do some strength exercises because I’m pretty weak and for some reason think I can climb Mt. Kilimanjaro in a few months. I tell myself I’ll actually start training next month and instead of exercising I think about exercising. I move on to the kitchen, light up the kerosene stove and put on the kettle to boil some water. While the water is boiling I do last night’s dishes. First I have to refill my jerry can; luckily the spigot in the front yard is working so I don’t have to use the well. Once I have water, I squat over a plastic bucket and pour water from a small pitcher and clean. After the dishes are clean the water is just about boiling. I make oatmeal with a bit of sugar and tea then put the rest of the boiled water in my filter so I can have it later. I lock up the kitchen and move back into my bedroom/living room, take all the meds/vitamins I’m on (I’ve been sick a lot lately) and brush my teeth. It’s around 10:00 and I head out to work.

At the office I meet with the leader of the HIV Positive People’s Assoc and ask him if he has obtained the land certificate and building permit so we can begin construction on the milling house. He gives me a certificate for something else (this is all in Amharic by the way, which makes it funnier). I tell him that’s not what we needed and he admits he hasn’t asked yet and that he’ll do it tomorrow. I remind him that I’m leaving Masha in 6 weeks and that we need to work FAST. He reacts like this is the first time he’s hearing this information and starts freaking out and then promises to get the certificates. Then I ask him to call his contractor and set up a meeting, when would he be available? He answers that it will take a month to build the milling house. I ask again, but when can we have a meeting so we can begin construction? He looks at me like I’m crazy and repeats that it will take a month. Another failed conversation. I try to reword my questions and ask if I can meet with him and the contractor on Monday morning. He finally understands and we set up a meeting. Oh how I wish my counterpart didn’t leave for grad school…I could really use his interpreting skills. I go a few doors down and sit at my desk and start making lists. What do I need to do to pack up my house? What do I want to do when I go to America? Who do I want to see when I go to America? What do I need to bring back from America? Who else can I ask for donations for this milling project? What am I going to make for lunch? How many days until America? Once I run out of questions to ask myself I pull out a magazine and read a few articles. It’s just about lunch time now, so I head out.

On my way home my zero-English-speaking friend calls to me from some random mud hut. She tells me to come have tea with her, I have nothing else to do so I oblige. She’s getting her hair braided by a woman who is now my sister. I had to promise to come back before I leave Masha to get my hair braided, too (ha). After her hair is finished they tell me to go inside the house and we’ll all have tea. Turns out they don’t have anything to make tea with, so they leave me alone, watching some random kid, to go buy tea, sugar and biscuits. I’m playing with the kid and we’re laughing and having a good time, he’s speaking to me in Amharic and I’m speaking to him in English, making no sense to each other. He climbs on my lap, I figure to touch my hair or my freckles (that’s why most kids get close to me) but he had a different agenda. He reaches in my shirt and tries to pull out a breast…this 2 year old kid wants to breast feed. My initial reaction is to throw him off my lap, but then I bust out laughing. It’s kind of funny. Eventually my friends come back. We make tea and have inane conversation about work, the other volunteers that live in Masha, my moving to Addis Ababa and other non-important things. Even after 2 years this is awkward for me. I’m awful at small talk in English, but in Amharic I’m even worse. After what seems like hours I head home.

Walking home I have to stop and greet a handful of people, some are friends, some are people that I vaguely know and some are people that know me but I don’t even recognize. It’s market day so a lot of beggars are out so I need to politely tell them I’m not going to give them money, but God will provide. It’s also still summer vacation so all the children are out chanting my name and ambushing me for handshakes. Eventually I get home. At this point I no longer want lunch because of all the fried biscuits my friend force fed me earlier so I turn on music and lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. You’d be surprised how long I can do this and not get bored. After some time I read a few chapters before I’m hungry again. I go to my kitchen for a snack (crackers and easy cheese from my last care package…thanks ma!) and when I walk in I find myself surrounded by the dreaded flesh eating ants. They are absolutely everywhere. I take some toilet paper and start squishing them and interrupting their marching formations. I do this for about half an hour, the whole time the ants are crawling all over me. My hands are tingling because they are biting me so much…my hands are completely covered. Then I realize they’ve been climbing up my legs and I’m getting bitten everywhere, and it hurts. I finally can’t take it anymore and splash water all over the room, spray the edges of the walls, especially where there are large holes and run. We’ll see later if that helped anymore or if I have to start all over. An hour later I’m still picking them off of me.

I return to my bedroom and turn the music on again and veg out for a while longer making myself a list of things to do when the power comes back on (it has) and things to do if it stops raining (it hasn’t). Writing this blog entry is on the list. For the rest of the day I’ll finish the items on the list, most are work related. I’ll eventually go back into my kitchen to assess the killer ant situation. If it’s under control I’ll make dinner, if not, I’ll ask another volunteer to make me dinner because I can’t stand to be eaten again. After dinner I’ll probably watch an episode or two of How I Met Your Mother (which I’m watching for the second time) and do some crazy exercise video with my site mate. Maybe we’ll play a game of Catan when we finish that. Around 9:00 I’ll get into bed and read for a while and go to bed.

So that’s a typical day in Masha. If it’s not a kid trying to find milk it’s some creeper guy hitting on me. If it’s not ants I’m cleaning up it’s mud. Seems crazy that I’ve been doing this for 2 years, even crazier that I love it. However, it’s definitely time to move on.

Why Your Feet Hurt

When I was first applying for the Peace Corps a few years ago a lot of Returned PCVs started coming out of the woodwork and telling me about their experiences overseas. One of these people was a man I worked with at the Agency on Aging who served in Gabon in the 80s. We had a few conversations about the good, the bad, and the ugly of Peace Corps service. For him the worst was the chiggers. Chiggers are these tiny insects that live in high grass and love feet. He told me of one time a chigger bored into his toes, laid eggs under his toe nails, and then hatched causing his toe nails to fall off. That was the first time I questioned whether or not I really wanted to move to Africa. Eventually I decided that it wouldn't happen to me because I'd always wear close toed shoes.

Three days after arriving in Ethiopia I stopped wearing sneakers and, like most Peace Corps volunteers, started rocking the Chacos everyday. The first few months I was very cautious and always checked my toes, then I realized that no one gets chiggers in Ethiopia and totally forgot about it. Well, if you've been following my Peace Corps service at all you know that bad things happen to me pretty regularly. Last week I was running a summer camp with my fellow volunteers in SNNPR and my toe started to hurt. There was a black circle and I thought that it was a planter's wart. Kind of gross but not a big deal. A couple days later it started hurting more so I investigated with tweezers. The little black sphere-ish thing came out relatively easily, and then this gooey white sack started spilling out. The eggs. This being my first chigger removal it was very sloppy and I broke the egg sack, only time will tell if they are about to hatch, but I think i got it all out. Now there is a pretty sizable hole in my toe and the thing I was most scared of coming to Africa has happened. In retrospect I shouldn't have been so worried about it, there are much worse things.

Circles

I feel like my life is repeating itself, but this time I'm ready for it.

A couple of months ago now I attended the environment group's In-Service Training (every volunteer group has this training three months into their service). I was asked to come to give a safety and security presentation because of all the crazy things that happen to me (it's got to be somebody, right?). I had a meeting in Addis a few days later so instead of traveling the 3 days back to Masha only to turn around and travel 3 days to Addis, I stayed to help out with the entire training. While the content was completely different, and my people weren't there, and I wasn't a trainee, a lot of the emotions, insecurities and triumphs were the same. It made me think back to where I was a year before, which if you remember, was not a good time in my life. It was the closest I ever was to coming home early. I was terrified of the crazy guy in my town, I had just watched that poor boy drown, and I was depressed thinking about death and how it was surrounding me. There were a few other things going on at that time, but those were the biggest. Needless to say, I was not a pleasant person to be around during my IST and felt like I was alienating myself from my group by being such a downer. Watching the newer volunteers at that point in their service really reminded me of that time and how far I've come. The questions they had and the anxieties they expressed were all the same things I was worried about at that time, but being a year later I couldn't help but laugh (if you G4 kids are reading, don't be offended, you'll laugh, too, when you realize how little any of those things matter).

A month or so after IST the cycle continued: the Hawassa EveryOne Race. Last year I was adamant about not running. I do not enjoy running for the sake of running…if it's to play a game or sport that's no problem, but at that time 7K did not sound appealing. I still went to Hawassa last year, though, and cheered everyone on and took photos for those who ran. The company of other volunteers was definitely the highlight of that weekend, and it actually is still one of the best weekends in Ethiopia that I can remember. This year, though, I did it…I ran the 7K! I had planned on just walking with a friend, but as we left the starting line with the thousands of other runners we were inspired. We ran most of the way (of course we needed walking breaks…we're not runners!) and it felt great. I wiped out once, which was pretty hilarious, and had some nice bloody gashes to show off at the finish line. We ended up running with an Ethiopian girl (who was really the reason why we ran instead of walked) who was pretty good company. I later found out that she was 14. I wouldn't say that this year's race was a better weekend, but I'm proud of myself for finishing the race. And surprised that the race was actually the highlight of the weekend.

A bit later my life repeated itself again: I went on a waterfall hike. I've been kind of avoiding waterfalls since last year (there are a surprising number in my area). I figured enough time had passed and it was time to get over it, and a few other volunteers were visiting so it seemed like a good time to go see the Sor Waterfall (the second largest in Ethiopia). The hike was about 5 hours shorter this time, and I actually brought water and snacks along this time. I'm also much better at walking through slippery mud (I still fell a few times, but had a better sense of humor about it this time around). I wasn't worrying about breaking a leg the whole time, I was laughing at the harsh conditions and knew what I was getting myself into when I decided to hike to a waterfall. When we were making the final descent to the water I was overcome with memories and emotions, not sure if I wanted to go any further. But I did, and had a good time laughing, getting drenched by the mist and slipping in the mud with all my friends. A far cry from the year before – it was a safe and successful trip.

The next night was another life experience repeat: the annual honey harvest! This time I knew where I was going and what we were doing. Instead of wearing Capri pants I wore long pants, tucked into my socks, a jacket with a hood and better shoes. Instead of getting stung 5 times, I didn't get stung at all. Instead of eating a whole comb at the first basket I paced myself so I didn't have to be rude and refuse to eat any at the second basket. I didn't cringe at the thought of eating the larvae "for strength", instead I asked for a bite. I felt like a pro.

It feels good to be comfortable in this life. I have to admit though, knowing what's coming and being ready kind of takes the fun out of it. The first time around everything was so new and a bit scary. The fascination of watching the men climb trees with nothing but a rope and go head first into a nest of angry bees will never be the same as the first time. Hiking in the muddy, wet, untraveled Ethiopian jungle will always remind me of that first time, but the emotion and sadness that came from that day will never be matched, I've grown numb and less affected by death since being here. I'll never have the optimism and hope that the newer volunteers have just starting their service, full of ideas and ambitions. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, it's probably a good sign that I'm so comfortable and used to this life, but I do miss the feeling of everything being new and exciting. I hope that in the last 6 months I still have some surprises left. 

Futures

As time begins to grow short here in Ethiopia there have been a lot of conversations regarding what is next. The overall consensus is that nobody knows what they want to do once our service is over and instead of leading us to the next step this experience has only opened more doors than we ever even knew existed. Like my fellow volunteers I also don't have any immediate plans and the near future is unknown, but in answering the question as to what I want to do I always say that my end goal is to start and own a residential hospice in New England. I have a good idea of where I want to end up, but as to how to get there, I haven't quite figured it out yet. Which is okay. One particular conversation I had with a close friend I discussed this hospice dream and called it my eventual life's work. He then asked me if I thought it was important to have a life's work. His thought is that there are a lot of things he would like to accomplish in his time, all of which are disconnected, and therefore couldn't be called
a life's work. From that conversation I began to think what it is that I am passionate about and what things I would like to accomplish in my professional life. The common thread is that in everything I do I aim to help people live healthier and happier lives. I want people from all walks of life and from all corners of the globe to be able to enjoy the right to medical care. Whether it is increasing access to essential medicines and vaccinations in developing countries or allowing terminally ill patients to receive palliative care to make their departure from this world peaceful and painless, I want to dedicate my life to decreasing the suffering of people in some way. This, I hope, will be my life's work. While it may not be for everyone, for me personally, it is important to have this commonality throughout everything I do. It gives my life a purpose and some sort of direction. My experience in the Peace Corps, with the ample amount of free time to really think about my life and what my role in this world in, has brought me to this conclusion. I didn't have a whole lot of direction before coming to Ethiopia, just crazy dreams. As I think about the future I begin to realize how amazing this opportunity has been and how much I've grown as a person from the experience. I want to take a moment and thank the US Peace Corps, Masha and all the PCVs I've served with over the past year and a half. I haven't worked out
my entire life plan yet, and I feel like I have more options than ever, but I have a much better grasp on what I want out of life and what I want to give to the world as my life's work and contribution. My hope is that in these last 7 months or so I can work out what my next step is.

I apologize that this entry reads a bit like a journal entry. I have a lot of stories to tell since it has been so long since my last entry. I've been quite busy traveling and working outside of Masha and therefore have new adventures to log in. I just have to sort out what's interesting enough to publish. Check back soon for more anecdotes and commentary on Ethiopia. But not too soon. Masha is without power for 6 months. My internet access will be limited this summer!

Help!

I think I may have mentioned it before, but my most recent project is
building a milling house with the HIV Positive People's Association in
Masha. The mill house will be an income generating activity to either
provide an income for those unable to find employment or supplement
those who currently have jobs. The proceeds of the mill will be spent
on nutritional support to increase the effectiveness of HIV treatment,
pay for school fees (a handful of the people in the organization are
children) and to implement programs to increase awareness of HIV in
the town. I am funding this project through a Peace Corps Partnership
grant because many of you have asked how you can help/get involved
with my work. I greatly appreciate the offers and really wanted to
give everyone an opportunity to be a part of my Ethiopia experience.
The link below leads to the official PC page for tax deductible
donations. Any donation will make a huge difference.
Thank you so much, and please let your friends and family know too!!
https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=663-017

Sugar Sugar

This past month I was able to experience the EC101 concepts that I used to tutor on a daily basis. While it was kind of boring on paper (especially after teaching it for 4 years), it was fascinating to witness. A while back the birr (Ethiopian currency) was devalued by 22% by the government to attract foreign investors. This will probably prove to be a good move for the country, but for individuals it was devastating. Since then I've seen hotel and bus prices sky rocket (but not my allowance!) and the price of goods and services increase. This is bad news for people who already live in poverty. Recently the government imposed price ceilings on certain commodities to keep necessities affordable (sugar, oil, soap etc…). But, as all of my tutees should know, a decrease in price leads to an increase in demand and a decrease in supply and therefore shortages occur. If I had the internet power to upload graphics I'd really geek out and demonstrate on a graph. So when this happens in America it's not really noticeable to consumers, in the land of excess we don't run out of things very often and with more disposable income we tend to be less effected by a slight increase in price. However, in Ethiopia, it's a different story.  Because of the price decrease, shops have stopped selling these items and, in Masha at least, the government has become the only seller of sugar, oil and soap. I realized something was up when I had a really hard time finding oil one day…Ethiopian food is about 50% oil, not being able to find it was strange. The next day as I was walking to my office I noticed a mob of people and thought to myself "hmm, wonder what's going on. Glad it's not me". After I left my office there was still a crowd so I asked someone what was going on….the government was selling rations of said goods. Turns out it was me. Of course none of my English speaking friends were in line (most of my friends that know English are male, and of course they wouldn't be subjected to waiting in a "bread line"). It took me a while to figure out the system (lines do not exist in Ethiopia…everything's a free-for-all). I had to form a group of 25 people and then sign up with the government workers. Once we had our group established we were given a 100kg sack of sugar to split (4kg each) and a box of soap to share (4 bars each). By the time I got there they had already run out of oil. It took me three visits (once to figure out what it was, then I had to go home to get more money, then they took a lunch break) but I finally got my sugar and soap. It was quite the experience having to wait in the mob and secure my goods for the month. In the lush southwestern highlands there are rarely food shortages so it was a new thing for me. I have to say though, I was impressed with how things were run. It was a bit disorganized because of the lack of lines, but everyone worked together and cooperated with the government. When they ran out of oil the guy got up and apologized and nobody got upset. It was actually pretty neat.

                So after the whole ordeal I gave Peace Corps a call. They like to know what's going on in the small towns so they can monitor the situation and warn others what may be coming. Apparently they told HQ about it, too. It's funny to think about this situation in little Masha being discussed in DC. The PC staff assured me that this is relatively common here, and happened a few years ago. They suspect in a few months everything will be back to normal and the shops will start selling again.

                And now for the good news! I haven't spoken about the Youth Center project in quite a while, mostly because my hopes had been diminished. I hadn't heard from the embassy in a long time and I assumed the worst. To make me even more upset I heard from a PC volunteer in another region that he had gotten a call about it, but I hadn't. Yesterday I walked to the compound donated by the town for the Center to kind of say goodbye. This morning, however, I got the call. The embassy called to say that our proposal was a finalist and they thought the project looked solid. In a few weeks they will schedule a visit to Masha to assess our capacity to carry out the project! I was thrilled that it's not over. I immediately shot out of bed (it was an early phone call!) and went to tell all my guys in town the good news. Their positive reactions were amazing. It was so awesome to see them so happy and excited. I loved that I had something good to tell them, finally. Now we just need to prove to the US government that we can do this project. I have faith. 

People Are Strange

Unlike last year I actually stayed up to ring in the new year this time around. I am really hoping for 2011 to be worlds better than 2010, so I started it off right. I spent the weekend in the city Mizan with a handful of friends and had a wonderful time complete with wine, one confetti popper, card games, singing and dancing...several nights in a row. Needless to say a good time was had by all. The best story I have to offer you from the New Years weekend is from Sunday afternoon. Before beginning I have to, once again, clarify that my blog is in no way affiliated with the US Peace Corps and this is just an anecdotal story, not one that gives a rounded perspective on life in Ethiopia.

I'll start the story from the middle. 

I really completed a Peace Corps stereotype the other day. The photos really capture the glamorous vision of Peace Corps that tv and to movies portray. The Peace Corps that I wanted to join a few years ago, the one where volunteers are always happy and smiling. I was with 3 other volunteers, laughing and joking around with hoards of little African children. We were, like good hippies, playing frisbee in an open field surrounded by lush mountains and forests. I wore a tie dye t-shirt, chacos and a homemade friendship bracelet. One volunteer had a camera out taking photos of all the children and we were all holding hands and smiling. It could have been a promotional poster. But what that poster would miss is what lead up to that moment. The part of being a Peace Corps volunteer that you don't hear about in media campaigns or from characters like the young Barney Stinson in HIMYY before suiting up.

We had decided to go on a hike to a waterfall that was up on one of the mountains surrounding Mizan. As per usual, we picked up a few cling-ons along the way and our band of 4 became a mass of children with one additional creeper. We picked up orange shirt man on the main road and thought nothing of it as he followed us down the foot paths. This is a common occurrence so we continued on our journey, ignoring him and avoiding eye contact. About 30 minutes into the hike this grown man was still with us...now it is annoying. We approach him and politely tell him to leave us alone, we have no money for him and to stop following us. He doesn't. Several times we try to get him to leave and he always looks at us like we're crazy...why on earth should we want him to go away? So we stop for a little while giving him the benefit of the doubt, hoping that he would continue on his way...maybe he actually was headed in that direction and we just assumed he was following us. Nope. He steps to the side and turns, he takes the break as an opportunity to take a pee. So we decide to go on, perhaps he'll eventually give up. Another time we stop, tell him to go away and wait there until he gets bored with us. So he steps to the side...peeing again? Nope. He exposes himself to us and waves his man parts in our direction (maybe he's making a Monty Python reference?). We tell him he's disgusting and rude and that he really needs to go away. So then he picks a few bananas and shoves them in our faces, after the previous little show the thought of bananas is revolting. This goes on for a while and we reach the edge of the forest and decide that the man will not leave us alone, and while the 4 of us could probably take him if he tried any funny business, it would be better to give up on the hike and stay where people are present. That's when we take out the frisbee so the whole trip isn't wasted. After an hour of tossing the disc with the kids we turn around and realize orange shirt man was still lurking waiting to follow us some more. At this time we're so annoyed we can't be polite anymore and tell him to get the hell away from us or we'll bring him to the police station. He stays back for a while, and just when we think we're in the clear he pops up behind me and strokes my arm, then drops trou again. I've never felt so disgusting in my life. We storm on, not looking back until we finally get into town. We stop for juice to cool off for a bit and then when we leave the cafe we realize he was waiting outside for us. The guy would not go away. We grab a bajaj and ride back to my friends house quickly so he can't follow. It's moments like those that I wish people from home would visit so they realize that life in the Peace Corps isn't that image of the hippie kids playing with children loving life all day long. It's difficult and sometimes unbearable, but those frisbee playing moments make it all worth it. Just please don't think that it's easy.