America's Best Side

From Danielle--

Items worthy of note:

There are 28,000 primary schools in Ethiopia.

And 1,500 high schools.

(In case you read over that quickly, read it again).

Ethiopia’s education policy states that students should be literate in their mother tongue by first grade. Largely, this actually doesn’t happen until fourth grade.

From about fifth or eighth grade up (it varies school to school), all subjects thereafter are taught in English. So, if the students don’t know English well by fifth grade, they will struggle through the rest of their school careers or drop out.

Generally, teachers here are not teachers by choice. This is how you enter the “track to become a teacher”: If you pass your tenth grade exam, you go on to further schooling/university, etc. But if you fail your tenth grade exam, then you go to teacher trainer college or vocational school.

Did you catch that? The teachers are those who scored the poorest on their exams.

This week, as Peace Corps and USAID and Ethiopia’s Ministry of Education have unloaded these facts on us, we 71 volunteers are coming to realize we’re in quite over our heads. My heart sinks at this continuous cycle full of Catch-22s: if a teacher is struggling in his/her own English, and is teaching a classroom full of students who go home from school none the smarter, and the parents see no progress after one year, two years, etc., will the parents keep the children in school? Not in a culture/community where you are sacrificing a ton to send your child to school; instead, your child could be working at the house or elsewhere, to bring in revenue for the family. The children will be kept in school if the parents see results. But how will the parents see results if there are none to report, because the system is full of discrepancies?

It is tempting to trace this back to step one, to how the teachers are chosen: by failing their exams. But the luxury that exists in America for adults to choose to be underpaid teachers does not exist here. If you have smarts and the opportunity, you go after that high-paying profession for the sake of your family and your own well-being.

So the question is, what can we do to help? How can we enter the cycle part-way through and do something of worth?

Hence the Peace Corps does not emphasize taking on a classroom for 2 years, only to leave the spot open for another volunteer afterwards. Instead we are here to train and to transfer skills. Teach a man to fish: help a teacher better his/her English; help a teacher to teach effectively. We are here to begin sustainable projects, programs, clubs, etc. that are sustainable in the absence of Americans, and will last well beyond our 27 months. We are essentially here to work ourselves out of a job, so that Peace Corps won’t be here 30 years from now, because Ethiopia won’t need us.

Thank God. This would all be silly otherwise. We are thankful for the vision of the Peace Corps, and thus far, we are in full agreement and support.

So let’s get the ball rolling!

Sunday, we finally get to leave this hotel, leave the capital. (From this point forward, we hope we can get internet here and there, perhaps every few weeks. We shall try to keep those of you back at home updated. But otherwise, assume we are safe and joyful and content, because it is most likely the case).

On Father’s Day we acquire more parents and move in with our host family in a site near Assela in the Oromia region of Ethiopia. We will have 9 weeks of language training (8 to 5) and technical training, where we will be equipped with what we need to enter this education system and do something worthwhile. For those nine weeks we will stay with the same Ethiopian family.

It’s odd to think that this is almost the same amount of time I lived with my beloved Serukenyas in Uganda; that was a lifetime of learning and growth and sheer blessings, and yet when we leave these host families, our Peace Corps service still wouldn’t have technically begun. We are not sworn in until August 17^th, and are still considered PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees), rather than PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) until then.

But, man, are we excited.

Dehna hunu! We leave you with a little something from the man who came up with this idea:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yOQ85OEZhWg

Click on this link to view some of our photos!

https://picasaweb.google.com/115745669337345922210/800DaysInEthiopia?authkey=Gv1sRgCLfY4Z-h-vnS4wE

From Daniel:

We just got back from a weekend in Debre Berhan. It's about a two-hour bus ride northeast of Addis and is home to maybe 70,000 people. Peace Corps sent all four of the married couples in our incoming group of 71 there with Chelsea, a volunteer who is about one year into her service. Tony and Erin, a young couple who are also a year into service, are stationed in Debre Berhan and were able to show us around the city and introduce us to the people we might be working with, if we're stationed up there.

The word on the ground is that there's about a 1-in-4 chance that we're going to serve in Debre Berhan. And if we aren't there, we'll probably be placed in a similar type of city. The city center that goes along the two main streets is pretty big: with tall buildings, a university, and a fleet of Bajaj taxis (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auto_rickshaw). But the main roads turn to cobble stone roads, the cobble stones turn into dirt and rock (Debre Berhan had the rockiest soil I'd ever seen), and before you can say sega-watt you're out in the country with huts and donkeys and the whole works.

The Ethiopians we met were great, happy to see us, eager to talk to us or to at least follow us around for a while. The kids we saw at the primary school were incredibly cute and kind. They wore orange and blue uniforms and loved testing their English on us.

My longest conversation I had with an Ethiopian, though, was with a gray bearded gentleman in the market who wore a threadbare, mechanic-type jumpsuit and who spoke very good, though very rapid and quiet, English.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I’m well.”

“You like this country? It is Sunday, but it is market day, so…” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. I stood quietly. He went on, “Yes. It is Sunday, but it is market day. I am a TESOL volunteer. No salary.”

“Yes, I’m a Peace Corps volunteer. I’m going to teach English for no salary.”

“No,” he said, “I teach English,” a pause, “for no salary. I also teach Mathematics. And I teach Bible to the Baptists,” another pause, “and to the Catholics.” He looks at me. “Would you like to collaborate, maybe?”

“What’s that?”

“Give me some money?”

I gave him the change I was carrying, and said, “Have a nice day.”

“Yes. It is Sunday, but it is market day, so…”

This kicked off what I’m calling—The Luttrull Grant for English, Mathematics, and Ecumenical Biblical Instruction—a fellowship of 0.50 Ethiopian Birr (≈$0.028 US) that will go annually to a deserving scholar. Applicants can apply wherever they find me.

After we went to the market, we went to a little store that sold mango and avocado spritzes. Essentially, this is pureed and sweetened avocado under pureed mango, but it tastes like sweet, fresh heaven (and cost about 56 cents US). Next to the spritzes, the best part of the trip, for me, was seeing the type of place I, as an “English Teacher Trainer,” will probably work in. We went to Debre Berhan’s university and teacher college and saw their English Language Improvement Centers. Both were run by volunteers from Peace Corps-ish organizations and both reminded me of the writing centers that I worked at in college. Basically, it seems like my job will be to help future and current English teachers improve their English and teaching skills through workshops, reading and speaking clubs, etc. I’m looking forward to the work much more, now that I realize what it is and know that it’s something I’ve been prepared for.

Other things:

1. Driving through Addis is like the scariest and most exciting carnival ride you could imagine.

2. We ate pizza three times this week. Apparently, the bigger cities have it, and Danielle is already getting tired of injera. I’m learning that I could eat shuro indefinitely.

3. Danielle loves the milked-down coffee.

4. We saw the Southern Cross last night.

5. We walked about a million miles over the weekend, which was good because we had been sitting around in the hotel for so long, but which was also difficult because we were over 9,000 feet above sea level. 

6. The weather is consistently perfect.

7. I wanted to post photos but, the internet here is not complying.

Danielle says:


Indamin dahna amassu?
That's a form of "good evening" in Amharic. But we've only sort of mastered "good morning" and "good afternoon" thus far, learning each when that part of the day comes. There are quite a few syllables in this language, and it may be slow going. And we still need to learn the 237-ish characters in the alphabet. Here's a link with some phrases in audio:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hsp_Un77dlo

We are having a great time. It still seems very surreal, especially considering we are within the walls of a modern hotel for most of the day (we have a working sink, toilet, and shower; these are good things. There is also a malfunctioning alarm clock of a rooster that crows about every half-hour). But when we venture out, or encounter the hotel staff, we are noticing how beautiful the Ethiopians are, and trying to practice our Amharic. "Thank you" is "Ama-sega-nalu" said quite fast; this has been the word of the day, as we hesitate (and count on our hands the number of syllables) each time we try it out. We are staying in this hotel for the first 10 days or so, with a field trip thrown in there, called "demystification weekend" or something. We will be visiting another volunteer at his/her site, to get a feel of Ethiopia and our assignments, outside of the capital.


It has been great getting to know the other volunteers; there are 71 of us as individuals, and there are 4 young married couples, total. Great, fun people from all over the nation.


We went to a bank today to exchange our US dollars for birrs (17.6 birrs for every dollar), and the classic "Today is..." sign posted in the bank read, "April 30, 2004/ June 7, 2012." Apparently Ethiopia's Coptic calendar has 13 months (hence her motto 13 months of sunshine).  The Ethiopian and Gregorian (our) calendar apparently calculate differently the Annunciation of Jesus, hence it's still 2004 here. Daniel's dad did the research for us and found that we were technically, Ethiopianally, born in 1979, and my sister and I now share a birthday. Looks like I get to eat two birthday cakes before the year is out.


The hours here are also calculated differently. The sun rises at 6 and sets at 6. Ish. So at our 6 AM, it is zero o'clock Ethiopian time (Besha time); our noon is their 6 AM; our 6 PM is their 12 PM. No one has told us what happens with the rest of the hours. Perhaps we should ask.
One volunteer suggested wearing two watches. If ever we need to meet up with an Ethiopian, we will have to verify which clock they are referring to.

We.are.loving.the.food.



We will try to post pictures soon (we haven't taken a single one).