The Obituary Bicycle

As the days advance, we are content to say that we miss American food less, and enjoy Ethiopian food more. You may count this a small feat. But, unlike my husband, much of my happiness sits atop my taste buds (this girl likes to eat!). So while my desire for pumpkin & cream cheese combinations flits away like it’an smoke (incense), my cravings for injera and kay watt replace them. Grace has also been given in that, as our bodies long for Midwest autumn, Adwa has lately been offering strong, cool breezes. As of this week, I’ve now worn pants, and sweatshirts, for the first time in Adwa.

            Our happiness of the spirit is also fully intact. This place is lovely, and we’re often poignantly conscious of it. Two years is seeming like such a small time, especially as we near the 5-month mark. I can compare my rushes of content-with-Ethiopia-giddiness to the days of our engagement. I remember the early morning after Daniel proposed, I couldn’t sleep any longer so I climbed into bed with my mom and stared at my ring for an hour, turning it against the new sunlight to make tiny crystals on the wall, until she woke up. We’re getting married. We’re getting married. We’re getting married. And the butterflies wouldn’t settle. I feel this way in Adwa, when stepping on the rocks across the creek on my way back from school; when, on this walk, greeting the old man Berhane with his head wrap, walking stick, and Ethiopia’s most convincing smile; when Yonas, manager of Abay Restaurant, places our bowls of ful in front of us; when leaving the chapel after Saturday mass to our weekly nighttime view of Adwa’s mountain stretch; when sharing bunna with the Girimkils; and when greeting our favorite children in town. We live here. We live here. We live here. It’s awfully overwhelming, how blessed we feel to be residents of Ethiopia. And then I remember this is a trend, nothing at all out of the ordinary. The Lord is always placing us well. I felt the same We live here! awe while at IWU and then in Waco, surrounded by incredible and creative God-fearing peers, in Mukono with Uganda’s best family, and at my Salvation Army Camp in the summers, etc. etc. etc., always always always. And the more good people we meet, the more the blessings pile on.

            Which brings me to our special surprise of last week. Now that the number has reached 3, I can say I’ve started a collection of English letters from Ethiopian preteen girls. Last week two 8^th grade girls knocked on our kitchen door, introduced themselves as Mabrit and Haven, and handed me a letter. They asked me how they could improve their English, could I start teaching them English?, they would make me perfect in Tigrigna and Amharic, will you read the letter and write a response? It was a refreshing non-awkward letter to follow up Zinash-of-Sagure’s Song of Solomon-esque poem she wrote for me. The girls asked about our country and culture, and how we liked their own, could they introduce us to their mothers and invite us for coffee?, and of course, how we felt about the death of the prime minister. (When their friend Emebet gave me her own letter days later, this same question was present). I gave them my written response at school that week. Two hours later, they were at our kitchen door again. (I do hope they keep their knowledge of our whereabouts quiet; Soloda has 900 students). They wanted to know when we could come for coffee and if they could show us Mabrit’s brother’s language center. When they left twenty minutes later, we had three of the next four days booked. Thursday: tour of the language center. Saturday: lunch and coffee at Mabrit’s home. Sunday: lunch and coffee at Haven’s home.

            We felt hoodwinked as we walked with Mabrit Thursday evening toward the main road and language center. We weren’t heading towards just a quick tour, from which Daniel and I would walk to Abay for some kay watt. As we asked more questions, she told us it was a daily evening English class from 6 to 8 PM. When we arrived, her brother (who once helped us get a taxi from Axum’s bus station) offered the next surprise, explaining that we could teach whatever we wanted: “As you want, as you like.” When they weren’t looking, Daniel and I exchanged deer-in-the-headlights expressions and mouthed, “What should we teach?” And just as quickly as this surprise came, it vanished. When class started a half hour later, we realized, graciously enough, we weren’t teaching after all. In all, it was a three hour event with 20 teenagers and young adults, our sitting on hard benches, slightly confused, with hungry bellies. And yet it was all so humorous. We plan to return, maybe once every two weeks. It is a fine forum for practicing English: each student stood, introduced themselves, and welcomed questions; the remaining students shot them questions like, What surprises you in the world? It is said that money is a good servant, but not a good master. Do you agree? What are the advantages and disadvantages of HIV/AIDS? (When the boy on the spot replied that AIDS decreases the world’s surplus population, we had to interject). They like debates here, or what we could also call Miss America pageant questions. I think I realize now where the 5^th grade boy’s question for me came from: What is the advantage of love?

            Lunch and coffee at the girls’ homes made for a great, but full, weekend. Their homes and their families are lovely. At Mabrit’s home we were introduced to red injera, the injera less expensive to prepare, but the injera with the most iron. It was delicious, or as we told her mother, andtena. Number one. We felt so welcome and loved; Ethiopians are great hosts who know how to deal hospitality. As we walked home with delighted stomachs, we thought, What fine neighbors we have!

 (Haven on left, Mabrit on right. In the background is part of a homemade sign in English: "Home Without Mother is Desert").

             Our work is also becoming more rewarding, or at least more existent, which feels rewarding. School has finally begun for Daniel, and research and action are paying off at Soloda. The head of the English Department has told me that I am his best friend, and the 7^th grade English teacher told me he loves me. So at least they’re happy we’re here. (Insert recurring sample conversation):

            Me: Teacher Gebre Selassie! How are you?

            Gebre Selassie: (throws arms up in air) I am fine! I am happy! I am happy except you!

            Me: Happy except me? What do you mean?

            Gebre Selassie: I am happy except you! Because you help me—you are here with us! Because I love you!

            Since we accepted our Peace Corps invitations, many have asked us what we’ll actually be doing at these schools. Until now we haven’t really been able to answer. We initially thought Peace Corps was being cryptic so they could tell us in person when we arrived in D.C. We know now that little information was dealt because little information is available. Our work here is an open-ended question, with the design that we as volunteers can shape our projects according to our community’s specific needs, and our special strengths and desires. So we’ve been compiling data and info on these schools, getting to know the staffs, observing classes, and reaching decisions (via a 15-25 page report) about what we think these schools need most, and how we plan to help. So, if you’re interested, this is what I’ve come up with so far, for my own work (every volunteer’s will be different). I will be working with four schools in the area, one of which is a precious boarding school for blind children:

            (Side note: the 3 goals of the Peace Corps Ethiopia Education program are to improve the teachers’ English-teaching proficiency, to improve the English proficiency of the students, and to support community development).

            *I want to strengthen (entirely rework) the English Club at my four schools. What “club” means here—we are finding out—is not an extracurricular regular meeting, but basically only a label. The students choose their club, and then each morning during the flag ceremony, a different club “presents.” So when I asked when the English Club meets, I was told Wednesday (was also told Tuesday and Thursday, incorrectly [a very common occurrence]). That means that on Wednesday mornings one student from the English Club list is chosen to hold the microphone and ask three questions in English to the rest of the student body, i.e., “When it is time for bed, what do I say to my uncle? A. Good morning, Uncle. B. Good night, Uncle, C. How are you, Uncle?,” etc. It took twenty minutes of broken English and Tigrigna with the head of the English Dept., one of the English teachers, the 5 student board members of the club, and myself, for me to finally realize that “club” means something entirely different from what it means in the states. They were so confused by my asking, “But when does the club meet?” as the echos of the uncle question covered the grounds. “Now, it is now,” they said with dumbfounded faces; they must’ve thought I was crazy. So, here I come with my every-Monday-at-4 o’ clock-for-one-hour English Club meeting. Soloda’s first one is this next Monday. Now I have to work on developing this for the other 3 schools. Hopefully this is a success; I think the need is great for working English clubs, and venues for student practice.

            *I’m going to offer a 2-week mentoring program for the English teachers at my four schools: I observe their classes for a few days, and give feedback for improvement; then I teach their class for a few days while the teacher observes and gives me feedback; then we co-teach and plan the lessons together for a few days; then he/she teaches alone again while I observe. They can participate in the program as many times as they’d like.

            *I also want to offer a weekly English “club”/meeting for all the teachers at Soloda, my main school. The teachers want and need their English improved, so if we meet casually for a half hour each week, discussing debate topics, studying poetry, conversing in English, etc., it should be beneficial.

            *A common event in Ethiopia schools are “English Days,” a monthly or weekly day devoted to English-speaking. Everyone on the school’s campus is encouraged to use only English for that day. My schools don’t have these yet; I’d like to start a weekly English Day at each of my four schools.

            *One of the gravest problems in the classrooms here is lack of active-learning techniques. There is very little to keep the students engaged in the learning; it’s not fun for them; and there is very little “play” in the learning process here. We want to offer trainings in this area for the teachers (and this is the main reason for the 2-week mentoring program), but I also want to create a handbook filled with active-learning ideas and activities that correspond to popular topics taught in the English classroom. They have very little resources in this area (I doubt the teachers have ever seen a “worksheet,” and likely have never used a game in class), so I want to provide a sustainable resource for them that can still be in use once we leave. (Teachers, if you have any favorite teacher websites to recommend, suggestions are welcome!).

            *In terms of community development, there is a need for gender programs: to empower women, teach hygiene and life skills, broach the subject of HIV/AIDS, and provide mentorship. So! Daniel and I are conveniently placed at a college and elementary school just across the river from each other; a linkage between these two schools already exists, in fact, but needs to be strengthened. We’d like to begin a female mentoring program between the college girls and the girls at the primary school.

            *We’d also like to provide the community with a monthly English film night, followed by a discussion, at the college. This gives more than just our academic communities opportunities to practice English, but will be open to all Adwa residents.

            This is just the beginning, so we shall see what other ideas take shape! Adwa just received two more volunteers, with the U.S. organization IFESH, a really neat older couple who spent the last year in Jimma, Ethiopia. We look forward to partnering with them, as some of our ideas already seem to intersect. We also receive a Peace Corps Health volunteer named Lauren in December, and we’ll meet her next week when she visits. Adwa’s ferenji population is indeed growing.

            When the general population decreases, however, Adwa has a most fascinating way of printing their obituary column. The man on the bicycle (which is decked out in tassles, a mini Ethiopia flag, and a megaphone on the handlebars) who has been hollering in Tigrigna at all hours of the day and night—we just found out—isn’t crazy. You see, if you don’t understand the words coming out of the megaphone, you have no idea whether or not the speaker is insane, whether or not we are in danger. He plays his police siren and then informs the town, loudly, of recent deaths in the Adwa community. We like him a lot more now. I also now know that when I woke up at 5AM to his magnified yells outside our gate, and I swore he was yelling, in English, “You are surrounded! Put your hands up and place them on the wall!”, I was obviously delirious with sleep. Which is unfortunate. For a brief week, I thought we had an impressive police force.

            My recent longings for injera and watts were answered by our propane running out, which meant lots of restaurants and PB&J as we waited for the gas man to call us back. This inconvenience was joined by the breaking of our hot water tank switch. While these were unfortunate and took much longer to repair than they should have, we’re thankful they happened before Daniel’s mom came to visit. Our home wouldn’t have been nearly as fun with cold showers and zero American cuisine.

            Another important bit of news to report: Africa has squirrels! The few we’ve seen have been terrified, and much less bold than American squirrels—hence, sighting them is rare. But they do exist.

            

I suppose we can’t exactly say our standard of eating has lowered; we’re still eating like Americans. Grilled cheese and tomato soup! (Thanks, Mom, for the Velveeta).

 

And gnocchi! With fava beans and oregano butter. Donna Hay’s delights are reaching Ethiopia.

Even more than our food, we’re thankful for our neighbor family. On this particular day, we spotted Teddy tangled halfway up a tree in our yard, rigging up a rope. Moments later, his sister Luam was pushing him on the swing he made. We can’t tell Girimkil enough how golden his family is: Kulu betasabkum betami betami s’ibuk. Bizuh nifatu ina. Gorabetna andtena. (Your entire family is so so beautiful. We like you so much! Our neighbors are the best). But our Tigrigna can only go so far. I hope they know how we love them.