From Valentino and Michael Jackson

 We remember when Daniel’s friend Josh came home mid-way through Peace Corps service for a friend’s wedding, from Azjerbaijan, and exclaimed, “Wait! You guys are using internet on your PHONES?!” So we often wonder what’s going on on that other side of the world. Last week we laughed and shook our heads at some music videos playing on MTV at one of our favorite cafes. Two for two: both young men singing in separate music videos had 80’s haircuts; the sides of their heads were shaved, and curly masses of New Kids on the Block Mohawks were flowing out of their scalps. Is that really happening over there, people? Maybe we shouldn’t take select MTV videos as reflections of an entire country—but when two back-to-back curly/puffy American Mohawks air in our café, we naturally grow suspicious. What other weird things are people doing? For humor’s sake, we’re a tad curious.

You should know that while this music video played, a man in his 20s stepped into the café, and addressed us like so; he waited for no answers (which is common), but just rattled off an obviously rehearsed speech:

“Hello you guys. Where are you from? England? (No, America). Are you rich like Bill Gates? You (to Daniel) are beautiful like Michael Jackson. You (to Danielle) are handsome like Valentino something-or-other from Russia. Okay, of course now I leave you.” And he’s gone.

In a previous evening venture to this café we enjoyed our macchiatos while watching MTV’s Teen Cribs. Take our word for it: there is nothing more embarrassing to watch, surrounded by 11 Ethiopian college guys, than a spunky blonde preteen girl guiding you through her parents’ mansion, complete with movie theatre, backyard jungle, swimming pool, hot tub, and toilet with a button panel that includes seat-warming and buttocks-blow-drying options, etc. etc. etc. I consciously averted my fellow patrons’ eyes. I just hope they realize we are not rich like Bill Gates, would never live in anything like that, nor want to. But to watch gross extravagance alongside our poor neighbors was humiliating. Especially when the blonde teenager on the screen was the only other person of our race in the room. I wanted so badly to not be placed in her category of people. I wanted to turn to them and know how to say in Tigrigna, “We’re with you. Like you, we wonder if people have anything better to do with their money.” But they’d probably tell us they’re not with us. It seems they’d reply, much like the woman buying the sailboat in Napoleon Dynamite, “I want that.” Many of them want America, they want mansions. And it seems this is what they think is waiting for us when we return home.

I take that back: it’s perhaps more embarrassing to watch a sexy movie with your parents.

What we realized in Axum, with Mom here, is that it’s not nearly as much fun to be a tourist—experiencing new things, seeing all the sights—than it is to be someone else’s “new thing,” to be that sight others want to see. We laughed so hard as another volunteer, Doug, had to pose for various photos with a stranger. No introduction or even a “How are you?” Just a shoulder hug and long pose as the stranger excitedly passes off his camera and phone to his friend. The same man then held his phone up to my face, and had me smile various times for him.  We’re all like Santa Claus, and our neighbors are all in line behind a green velvety rope. If we could count our awkward laughs in this country! For instance, see below.

Mom’s camel had to wait to rise until this guy left her side. What we thought was a photo shoot for Mom and camel shamelessly became a photo shoot of Mom, camel, and man we don’t know. As I sat on my own camel (a 2-minute stand-still for 10 birr and photos), I felt a cold hand touch my bare leg as I struggled to keep my skirt as far down as it could go (it is incredibly difficult to sit on a camel while wearing a skirt and remain modest). This is my thought process: 1. What is this college-aged guy doing holding my bare leg? 2. What a creeper. 3. How long will he pose for his photos? 4. What will he do with these photos? 5. Too bad I haven’t shaved for a week and a half. But it’s his own fault. 6. He doesn’t even care.

Back to being the sight-seer:

When I spotted a certain 13-year-old in the large crowd of Axum, scurrying to the bus station, I almost peed myself. I shrieked, held my hands out to him, and yelled, “Kabay? Kabay? Universityay, bet timhirtay niustay niustay!” (From where? From where? My university! My small small school!) It may have been the first time the tables were turned: where we, the ferenji, frightened an Ethiopian with our stares and shouts of Tigrigna. He looked stunned, confused, and he awkwardly allowed me to take his photo, staring at me in disbelief as I panted in excitement. Why the excitement? Check out this photo:

Adwa feels a bit more like home, now that Daniel’s mom has been here. In some way it felt like a reassurance that this is actually happening, this is our home, and a home that our family can visit. It was unbelievably good to have her here; suddenly family didn’t feel so far away (just 16 some hours on a plane! It’s magic).

While I was nervous about preparing for and spending Christmas in a place where Christmas isn’t even on December 25 (but January 7), the advent season also has made 52B Adi Haki feel more like home. We have a Christmas tree hanging on our wall—made out of old toilet paper rolls wrapped in green fabric—stockings and wooden snowflakes from Aunt Cheryl and Aunt Sandi that I stitched up fancy-like, and glitter-glued, respectively. These lovely ladies also sent Mom with some red and green construction paper: this girl’s dream. It’s not Christmas without a Christmas countdown chain. (Well, it is, but—let me have this one). Daniel’s parents also prepared for us a beautiful advent “calendar,” with letters from friends, and Christmas poems and anecdotes to read each day. Couple all these things with non-stop carols playing from our Mac, and voila! It’s homey here. Not quite snowy here. But it’s Christmas here. Tonight we have a date with some hot chocolate and It’s a Wonderful Life. That’s because Monday is milk day. (Did we mention we discovered a way to get milk? We buy it from the college’s café, and can do so once a week. This will be easier when we buy a fridge; it requires creativity to drink/cook with an entire liter of milk in one day). Anyway, we’re thankful that rather than overwhelming us with homesickness, Christmastime is making Adwa more like home.

Wins for this week:

1. We successfully cooked and baked with an actual pumpkin, making our own puree for pumpkin bread and pumpkin pancakes—and other savory sides, i.e., failures. The seeds were delicious: Halloween a few months late.

2. We planted a garden! Basil, Oregano, Cilantro, Tomatoes, and Cucumbers. If these grow well, we will expand to growing maybe zucchini, broccoli, radishes, spinach, etc. We made a make-shift stick & rope fence to keep out the family of chickens who roam our yard.

3. Instead of selling full-sized gardening supplies, i.e. hoes, here you buy the important part, or head, of the tool. You find your own stick (this is true DIY, yes?). And so, Daniel fashioned us a hoe from a branch in our yard.

4. We planned to add some compost beneath the soil of our garden, but remembered all the manure lining our yard, which would be better. I put on a latex glove (thank you, PC med kit), walked toward the manure piles and called to Teddy:

DANIELLE: Teddy, kabay? (Teddy, where from?)

TEDDY: Ox. (His grin widens, he lifts his leg, tilts his whole body, and makes a loud farting noise through laughter)

What I wondered was, did they buy it? Were they going to use it for their own garden? Maybe I should’ve asked in Tigrigna: Teddy, why the heck are there piles of manure lining our stone wall? Instead, I received a much better, more hilarious answer, by asking where the manure came from. What followed were five boys grabbing handfuls of warm manure, with their bare hands, as I grabbed some with my gloved hand. Before we rewarded them with bananas for helping us work, Daniel conducted an assembly line of hand-washing at our outdoor faucet.

5. I have my first English Club today, for 30 5^th-8^th graders; and Wednesday I have my first training for teachers, on Continuous Assessment. We are starting to finally feel busy.

6. I was chosen to be co-coordinator of Peace Corps’ International Creative Writing Competition, Ethiopia. Some wise PC volunteer serving in Georgia created this competition a few years ago, to have students from all over the world submit creative writing pieces, via their PC volunteer, to an international pool of stories. We’re excited to work with our students on this! This is right up our favorite alley.

7. Meron now has daily coloring time in our living room. Whenever she sees us, her eyes widen in expectation, and she makes a sketching motion in the air with her hand. It’s a daily joy.

8. I know now that I am as handsome as Valentino so-and-so from Russia, and Daniel as beautiful as the King of Pop.

Things to come: In our next blog we will present you with a way you can become involved in the education of Adwa’s children, if you choose, via book donation.