Holla to my home town- This is a song about Gondar, and the biddies who come from it. Yes, Gondar has a rep- it’s like an inferiority complex with Addis Ababa, but Addis Ababa don’t care. This a mix of hip hop and Amhara region dancing. Pretty cool yo.

So you know Chop my Money? Here’s the Amharic version- apparently it’s a rage all over Eastern Africa.

And moving farther south, coming out of the Southern Nations and Peoples Region is “Shaleye” which means “my something… I dont know what a shale is. But at some point they sing Dilla Dilla Dillaye, which means my Dilla, which is a city in the South where my lovely friend Alyssa is posted. Plus it has a catchy tune.

And finally, this comes from the good ole US of A, but it is the sensation sweeping the Peace Corps Nation. Enjoy Thrift Store… sometimes I think Ethiopia is one giant thrift store.

Last weekend was Ethiopian Orthodox Easter, the end of a 55 day fast, and the return of tibs! Tibs, a half kilo of red meat sliced, diced, and served with injera and awazi (spicy berebere sauce) is back on the menu. The last 55 days of fasting has meant no meat products, including milk, eggs, and cheese. For some more devout orthodox, it has also meant no eating before 3pm every day.

But why 55 days instead of the 40 days of Lent? Apparently weekends don’t count so the fasting really is 40 week days… but you still have to fast on Saturday and Sunday so it ends up being 55 days.

The point is, everyone is now eating meat. You can hear the chickens and roosters every morning, the goats that know their number is up, and the dogs who can sense all the carcasses coming their way. It’s quite a cacophony of potential food. I always a enjoy a rousing game of “goat or child?” their brays sound so much alike.

Woke up to this guy’s intestines chilling in a bucket outside my house the other day… yummy. His name was Carl.

Like other Easters, Fasika is a family holiday. I was able to eat with a few families here in Gondar, stuffed full of doro wot (chicken stew) and siga wot (red meat stew… goat). Luckily I avoided the home brews of tella and arake, the former a grassy, watery beer, the later fire in a bottle.

But I got a great surprise at my coworker Edward’s house! His brother who lives in America had sent over some Red Label Scotch.  Clearly I drank it on the rocks… I’m not solidifying any stereotypes about foreign women on that one… oops.

Fasika at Ed’s … Morgan couldn’t make it, didn’t know he had put up the sign haha

Even though I’m a ‘homatarian’ also known as I don’t buy meat at the market and only cook vegetarian meals or care package meats in my house, I’m happy to have meat back in the restaurants.  And the price of eggs will finally go down.

So Melkam Fasika (Happy Easter!), the S’aom  (fasting) is over and we can eat siga (meat) again!

Doing site identification interviews with Peace Corps – buna break!

Aykel is the site of the other G8 volunteer in the North Gondar Zone, the lovely Morgan Davison, check out her blog here. It’s about 1.5 hours southwest of Gondar on the road to Metema (border of Sudan 120km away) and the capital of the Chilga region.

In Aykel- awful soil erosion, but cool photo

A sizeable town of about 45,000 Morgan is the only volunteer in her site. There are plenty of connections between her town and “the big city” that I live in. Many of her friends have family in Gondar, and the owners of my favorite juice place are cousins of her landlady.

Aykel also has many connections to the US. There are pockets of Aykel Diaspora all over the country, and talking to some of the people, they knew exactly where everyone from that town was living (a rundown of 10 in Denver, 30 in Seattle etc. ensued).

But the history of those immigrants is unique for this city. While people leave for many different reasons, a large group came through refugee camps in Sudan in the 1980s and 1990s during squirmishes on the Ethiopian-Sudan border. On a hike outside of the town, Teddy, the tourism officer, took us to a cave on the outskirts that a couple hundred people used as shelter during the conflict for about 3 months.

During the rainy season, the entrance to the cave becomes a roaring waterfall and the water at the bottom is believed to have holy healing powers since it sheltered so many refugees during the war.

The cave becomes a Holy Site

Had to take our shoes off because of Holy Ground

Washing clothes in the “holy water”… drained to a trickle during dry season

Some walked from Aykel all the way to the border (about 120 kilometers) to safety. One such guy lived in America for years before coming back to invest in his small town, and now owns one of the best cafes we visited. An example of Diaspora development, returned investment and America’s role in refugee support finds a success story in this small town.

What makes Amharic difficult? It is one of the three major Semitic languages in the world (Arabic and Hebrew being the other two). Its grammar structure is the opposite of English, but only sometimes. So you can’t just turn an English sentence backwards. I have to think of the entire statement before I say it, which if you know me and my foot in my mouth ways, it’s probably a skill I should develop.

It’s phonetic, and like most other languages has different conjugations for everyone—male, female, polite, plural etc. (there are 10 in all for each verb), not to mention 10 in each tense. This is also a language of prefixes and suffixes. To address an action to someone, to create an imperative, to say “let me,” to really put any sort of purpose to a verb you have to add in extra syllables at the front, end and even sometimes middle. And I thought German had the longest words…

The result is that many times people speak to me and I catch the fact that they are speaking to me (a female “you”), asking if I will do something in the future (a “ta”) and for them (ñ at the end)… but I miss the actual verb root buried in there. I’m getting really good at the phrase “inenja mikniatum algañim” which is… I don’t know, because I don’t understand. Or a sharp intake of breath… which doesn’t mean yes or no, just I’m listening—the Ethiopian equivalent to the nod and smile. Ishi.. Okay.

But never fear, the lovely lady leading me through the mire is an English professor at the Teacher’s College here in Gondar and the best shuro wot chef west of Woldia:

As you can see I am a giant in this country…

Language acquisition is an interesting feat. In a total emersion situation like we are as volunteers, after 10 weeks of training and 6 months at site, I can interact on my survival needs and communicate in basic ways and answer basic questions as long as people speak slowly. But really for about half a year of language, I can get around. On the other end, Ethiopian children learn English from Grade 1 and are taught subjects in English in High School (don’t get me started on that). And unless they are really smart kids and go on to university, I would say my Amharic conversational skills are better than theirs… 10 years in.

But like most hidden powers, sometimes I like to keep my Amharic to myself. I know way more dirty words than I should (thank you harassment), but I can pretend to ignore them (which I tend to find is best practice). But sometimes I’ll start in English and switch to Amharic mid way through to throw people off in the market, hearing bargaining and understanding real prices. Wabam! Didn’t see that one coming, did ya popcorn lady!…

But language is always an ongoing process. I’ve probably hit a plateau at this point – getting faster at phrases I use more often, but losing words I used to know during training (struggled to come up with the word for orange the other day). But you hone what you need and use. I don’t pretend to think I will ever be proficient or even close to fluent, and the ugly truth is that I don’t need to be. But small steps, a few new phrases here and there, can make a big difference in living and working here. So Aster and I hang out, and sometimes I learn something.

PCV1 – Hey! Did you get your CNA to the APCD on time? I heard our VRF was due before the PAC meeting at the end of IST.

PCV2 – No I didn’t have time with all the TOTs I was doing. The HCNs and CPs really pulled it together at the last minute there. Minum aydalum.

PCV1 – For sure. I tried to call the PCMO the other day about that double dragon situation but then I got the text that the pizza was coming in a yellow box. Dude I’ll ET if I have to share my chocolate store in consolidation. Ebt!

PCV 2 – Crazy! That and the new PCTs get all their attention, especially ‘cuz they’re ed. But chigerellum man.

PCV 1- Ya well that HIV BCC  ToT you did after WMD and the BAMM competition was pretty cool. You might get pulled in for a PSN or CCC training after that. Can you believe it’s almost our MSC? Next thing you know we’ll COS. Ishi baka gotta go, I’m outta birrrrr.

Catch all that? Ya, me neither six months ago. But with all new jobs, you start to learn the lingo. What’s fun about a volunteer’s job though is that each country creates its own slang- a mix of Peace Corps acronyms, local language quirks, and code words. Don’t ask me what a double dragon is… let’s hope you never experience it.

I remember talking to some RPCV (returned volunteer) friends before I left and only understanding about half their conversations. Development jargon, peace corps jargon, and the experience that every volunteer has no matter their country (you will poop in a hole) create a bevy of inside jokes and complete nonsense. But it also creates a community and bond that goes beyond linguistics. As funny as this website is, I can guarantee it is 10X funnier to a peace corps volunteer.

But we’ll hide behind the jargon for now. At least as long as this holds true, don’t look behind the curtain!: