Popular Songs Around Gondar

The sensations sweeping the nation…

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.

Fasika – An excuse to eat A LOT of meat

 

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!

An Aykel Tale

Last week I headed to Aykel for a combination helping Peace Corps do site identification, visiting Morgan, and running into my counterpart who was at a training (if he’s there, it means it’s work right?).

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.

Amharic Days

I’m going to go out on a limb and say Ethiopian Amharic (and Ethiopian Tigrynia) are some of the hardest languages to learn in Peace Corps. What about Russian? What about Chinese? What about Arabic? Ok, those are probably pretty hard too, but at least you’ve heard those languages before- in a movie maybe, or from a neighbor. I’m pretty sure 98% of volunteers came into Ethiopia having no exposure to the language.

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.

Alphabet Soup

This might be a typical conversation to overhear between two PC Ethiopia volunteers:

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!:

This One Time, In Tikel Dingay…

I went to a town called Tikel Dingay last week… ok, get the jokes out now.

As Peace Corps prepares for 70 G9ers to come in this summer all in the education sector, staff are looking to new towns to place volunteers. As a nearby volunteer I got to help with the site selection interviews, and learn a bit about of the education system in the process.

Tikel Dingay is a small town of about 11,000 half an hour north west of Gondar. It’s pretty average as a site- small town, farming community, high dropout rates, exhausted teachers, willingness for a volunteer, but buzzword answers about what they would do there.

And what’s with the name? Apparently this is a Tikel Dingay:

So the scenery isn’t too bad. There’s a crazy rock formation around every corner. This area is well known for its sesame seed production, and it’s only an hour or so from the border with Sudan on the road to Humera and ultimately Khartoum.

It has a cluster of primary schools, a high school (non-prep) and a preparatory school (grades 11 and 12). The site selection process is a combination of sector specific interviews (with education offices, school directors etc.) town interviews (police office, mayor etc.) and general impression taking. The reality is that each site depends on the volunteer that gets placed there. A great volunteer can get a crappy site, an unmotivated volunteer can get a fantastic site and they can produce the same change (minimal). But every once in a while you get a motivated town, filled with motivated people, working with a motivated volunteer and cool things can happen.

Here’s hoping for Tikel Dingay! And a new North Gondar Zone volunteer for family dinners : )

Mimi Gets Malaria, and Other Fairy Tales

For World Malaria Day I took over my sitemate’s English class to teach a group of 7^th graders about malaria. Because we wanted to teach both health and English we put together a reading comprehension lesson using C-Change (a Behavior Change Communication strategy organization)’s storybook for kids about a girl named Mimi who gets sick with malaria.

Reading Mimi’s story to the kids

The book was specially formulated for Ethiopian kids with character’s like Bitika and Litika the malarial mosquitos (female anopheles variety of course), and Mimi being told to finish her entire round of medication without sharing with family members (a common problem here and the source of drug resistant and recurring strains). The story went through transmission (Bitika and Litika live in a pond that appeared during rainy season), symptoms (always go the health center if you have a fever!), treatment (take ALL your medicine), and prevention (both bed nets and spraying). Plus we coloured in the pictures and put it on bright construction paper so y’know… it’s cool.

Got some help from Morgan, the English teacher – Peace Corps Ethiopia G7

Cross sector activities for the win! Here were was our lesson for the day:

After practicing both listening and reading comprehension we went over some of the details of the health content. A question that came up was whether you could get HIV from a mosquito bite, since they suck your blood. Logical, but luckily (unluckily?) the H in HIV stands for Human so the virus dies inside a mosquito, and they can’t transmit it.

This kid used his science textbook to draw his mosquito

Using what they learned, we had the kids work in groups to make posters about the transmission and prevention of malaria. At the beginning when asked, only 1 student said he had a bed net in his house. At the end, the kids all wanted to know when to get a malaria net for their families (answer- health centers).

World Malaria Day in English and Amharic

In Ethiopia, 68 percent of the country is officially a malaria zone, especially the lowlands. But as global warming contributes to crazier weather and mosquitoes migrating higher, highland areas on the malaria line (like Gondar) are seeing more cases. Days like World Malaria Day remind people that conditions can change, and awareness is the first step in prevention.

Here are the posters the kids came up with. Explanations in the captions:

They loved that book! Left it in the library for the future.

Bed Nets are the best prevention

Working hard!

These kids were gobez! The pond in the bottom has the life cycle of the mosquito while the one house without the net has a sick person, the house with the bed net is cool, and they drew the health center!

Malaria transmission and prevention

This poster was location specific- Malaria in Gondar! (hence the castles)

This mosquito had malaria… it also maybe took some acid

Iron Chef Challenge: World Malaria Day

World Malaria Day

Iron chef challenge:  You have ten minutes at flag ceremony (morning assembly) to explain malaria prevention to 250 primary school kids in a foreign language with three bed nets, four teachers, and a poster. Secret ingredient: two mosquito cutouts.

Thursday, April 25^th, was World Malaria Day. This whole month is Blog About Malaria Month. But the kids don’t care about that, they want to play in the nets.

So how do you get the attention of 250 children in grades 1-8, aged anywhere from 5 years old to 18? Let them play in the nets.

After a brief explanation of the number one disease in North Gondar Zone, and how you get it, we moved straight to prevention. Clock is ticking chef!

The cheapest and easiest way to prevent malaria is to sleep under a bed net. If you have a large family, give preference to pregnant women and young children. But just having a net in your home is not enough.

Choosing three volunteers, I chased them around with a mosquito cutout.  Pro tip: It’s always a good play to make a fool of yourself. This kid below was given a bed net but told not to use it, like many families who leave them unopened.

He got bit! When he travelled off the high rock

Nets are distributed every three years in this zone, but only to low-lying areas. With global warming, the mosquitoes have started to move higher, to areas not officially deemed “malaria zones.” The misconception still exists that highland areas in Gondar, even a few feet of difference up the mountain, means you won’t get sick.

The second kid was given an opened package, but wrapped himself up like a mummy. So you have a net, but if it’s not hung properly it’s not going to do any good. Sleeping with skin next to a net, the mosquito can still bite through the holes. He found that out the fun way.

Looks comfy in there!

This clever girl had her teachers “hang” the net up properly. My mosquito wasn’t able to get her.

Bimbee attack!

Time’s almost up chef! Bring in your backup… aka the school director who can translate my bad grammar into something coherent.

Really getting into it

Phew! There you have it, malaria prevention in ten minutes. But it didn’t stop there, later I co-opted an English class (cross sector learning!) and at the end of the day the biology teacher said he had the kids labeling the parts of the mosquito, using the World Malaria Day theme for science education.

So while doing a bit of malaria prevention awareness for the kids I was able to practice my Amharic, model some active teaching, and motivate other teachers. Not too shabby, chef.

Some Random Occurrences

So when you live day to day life out of your element you tend to run into some pretty funny and awkward situations. Mostly awkward, but that could just be me.

Here’s a summary of the past month in anecdote form:

-          Having a session with my tutor a bird poops all over my fidel chart, the Amharic symbols. Reasons why I love my tutor? Her response: Yup, that’s just about how I feel about fidel. Me too, girl, me too.

-          Speaking of birds, during a presentation at a college about the Aids Resource Center a pigeon bursts into the room, bounces off my head and crashes into the closed window. Shenanigans ensue. I don’t think those kids will forget our organization very soon.

-          Walking down the street the other day I had a city meets country moment. On the second floor landing of an apartment building there was a cow, just chilling. What the how? How did he get up there?

-          Walking home a little girl throws the contents of a chamber pot out on to the street—on to my feet. Great, a urine shower. As incensed as I was, the poor girl had the most ardent, cutest apology. Thank goodness the water was on that day when I got back.

-          After a presentation at a high school, similar to the pigeon story, I thoroughly embarrassed myself by attempting to give my schpeel in Amharic. Turns out it didn’t matter. Two teenage girls came up to me later and told me I was cool. Doesn’t matter what country you live in, teenage girl approval is always awesome.

-          Twice in one week I had “good posture!” shouted at me on the street. Once from a woman, once from a man. Either this is a phrase people learn in English class here or years of my mother telling my not to slouch has officially paid off.

-          If I don’t hear 3 “I love yous” 15 “Conjo!”s (beautiful) 21 “Kayo”s (the red one, a term of endearment/come on) and a couple “fuck yous” I count it a slow a day. However, the best shout I ever got came from a little toddler in a grizzly bear onsie with the ears sewed to the hood. Rolling around on the sidewalk making race car noises, I walked by and he immediately jumped up and screamed “ I LOVE YOU!” The one time I don’t have my camera!!

-          Oh the joys of second languages. Peace Corps, when read phonetically (Amharic is a phonetic language) reads Peace Corpse, prompting the very reasonable question by a coworker: “So corpse… are you guys like Peace Zombies?” No sir, no we are not, but close. I can see the confusion, as I haven’t bathed in few days.

So between the mundane and the busy, happens the ridiculous. More to come I’m sure.

An Ocean Away

What do you do when you get scary news from home? You’re not prepared for it. You’re the one who signed up to live in a developing country, learn a new language, be completely out of your element—the life adventure. If it happens to you, you get a good story or your family kinda maybe expected it. But when scary, dangerous, bad things happen at home you feel blindsided. Helpless. Disconnected and unable to communicate. The tables got turned and homesickness takes over. Not that you being at home would make anything different, or better. But for some reason you feel like you should be there. Everyone wants to comfort you here, but it’s not their home they are separated from. Or worse, you break down in public and no one knows why. Whether it’s big news or small, grand scale or in the family it’s not supposed to go this way. You’re supposed to worry about me.

Even when I know everyone is safe and sound it’s like I’ve been holding my breath too long. The last exhale of relief becomes a gasp of tears turning to embarrassment and anger and all the other stages.

I haven’t cried since I got to Ethiopia. Not when I got sick, not when I got mugged, not when I was irritated by everything because of some medication unbalances. But those were my issues. I may not have been able to control the situations, but I could control the reaction. When some crazy people bomb a city I have lived in or near for over nine years of my life, the city where I became an American, threatening some of my closest friends and family, I feel like I’m living on another planet.

I woke up to a bus crash outside my house at 6:30am. No one was hurt, but it was a school bus. Pretty chaotic, pretty scary. Five minutes later I get a call from a fellow volunteer, with Boston ties, telling me what happened at an event we would have both been at, had been at for the past straight years when we lived there. I wasn’t ready for it.

Marathon Monday, it’s better than Christmas. Or it was during university. Kegs and Eggs. Now Heartbreak Hill has another shade of meaning.

When you sign up to spend two years of your life away from friends and family in a developing country, living, working, creating new relationships they warn you that you might have “FOMO” or fear of missing out. People get married, have babies, new jobs, move cities. And as much as you think you’re returning to the same place two years later there is no way that can be true. But you feel that way. So when something like this happens it reminds you that the world is turning back at home. Things did not freeze when you left, as much as you would have liked them to. More things change that are good. Some things change that are bad.

I’m lucky to have my friends and family be safe this time.  And their support while I’m here has been awesome. I don’t know what I wouldn’t do without updates and emails and letters.  And I pray that they will continue to stay safe, as I’m sure they do for me.