!Hola Readers!
So this might come as a surprise to many of you, but I have never been to Spain before. I know. Sun-soaked beaches, towering mountains, and plenty of partying across the pays: why haven't I visited? Well, its mostly been an overlooked part of Europe for me. I supposed that since I spent so much time with Latinos and in Latin American countries that the feel would be the same. Oh, how little did I know.
First, I wasnt so excited to come to Spain. I spent some vacation time in France, a country that is very close to my heart, after two years in Ethiopia. So, I felt that Spain wasn't exotic enough for my taste. Upon arrival, I just went through the motions of muttering through the local language to find my way to my destination. Very easily, my friend picked me up at the train station in Zaragoza and we headed towards her small town of Huesca. I was entirely underwhelmed and a little disappointed to part from Boston on top. But spending the next hour in a car ride, I started to notice the cultural differences as well as the unexpected landscape. Perhaps it was because I have down absolutely no research on Spain that I found all of these things intriguing. The unfortunate coincidence to my arrival was the death of a my Spanish guide's family friend. So, after a quick clean up, we headed to the reception of the deceased's relatives. But that was sandwiched by drinks at local pubs, which I could handle easily. The Spanish, so far, haven't seemed so out of context of my expectations, but to actually experience the wine-throwing, body-throbbing festival is an entirely different concept.
I've been bar hopping since 10 am, and I'm only half-way through. I have a hiatus since my friend has gone to the funeral, but we expect to be pulling at least a 12-hour day. And then there's the concerts, bullfights, etc planned for the rest of the week. I only hope that I have the stamina to keep up with the Spanish constitution. However, a healthy Spanish breakfast of fried eggs, ham, and chorizo is paving the way. I'll relate more after my buzz wears off.
Hasta luego,
Virginia/Van/Va
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Keeping Up with the Tesfayes
Dear Wonderful People of Whom Many are Far Away,
Selamno from Ethiopia! My apologies for such a delay in writing, but
while I have many comforts here, a fast internet connection is not one
of them.
I hope this message finds you in good health and spirit. I cannot
believe that I have been in Ethiopia nearly a month. I’m an still
very much settling in, and every time I try to talk to the children, I
remember how very little I know, especially in language. I am living
with the Salesian community in a compound with my own bedroom and
bathroom (hot shower included!). There is a volunteer house on site,
but it is currently filled with an Italian family, a Spanish
volunteer, and two Austrian volunteers. Besides the husband of the
Italian family and his son, we are all female volunteers. I have a
beautiful courtyard outside my door, palm tree included, and a burning
trash heap outside my window.
For those of you who were in India and otherwise heard my tales, Addis
is a much cleaner city. Since we are on a plateau, the air is much
cleaner, and I expect once I get into the country more I’ll find even
healthier air. I am living on the very outskirts of the city, so it
takes nearly an hour to get to city centre and the markets. Every
night us single volunteers cook and eat dinner together, so we’re
getting plenty of vegetables and I occasionally get to throw in a
southern recipe. For Thanksgiving I’ll be making veggie pot pie,
zucchini bread, and pumpkin pie. Since there’s only one other
American volunteer and she’s not big on celebrating American holidays,
we won’t make a big fuss about everything.
As for my work, I jumped in as soon as I arrived. I started teaching
my Spoken English classes four days after I arrived. I teach at Don
Bosco High School, which is actually a very good high school for the
area. While some of my students come through the Bosco’s Children
program (a home for street boys) and others through Donato’s children
(an oratory for impoverished children) many of my students come from
middle class families. I don’t think I’m a very good teacher because
I don’t like to plan my lessons, but now that the first quarter has
ended, I think I will have to change my ways. My seniors would like
real grades instead of happy faces and frowny faces.
With my seniors, I am working with many of them to help them go to
college abroad. This is a very difficult task because they are very
late to start applying to schools in the US, and anywhere they would
want to go they would need full scholarships. I am hoping to be able
to send at least one this year, and I will start working with my
Juniors in the spring to prep them for the SAT and the TOEFL.
Altogether I have 500 students, so I’ve only learned about 6 names so
far. Since I live in the compound with Donato’s children, I also see
all 400 of those children every afternoon and weekend. I have just
started tutoring at Bosco’s Children which is a compound about 15
minutes away walking. I am working with boys/men from 16-25 years old
to teach them English. Its different working with them since they’ve
spent most of their lives on the street and when I ask a question like
“How old are you?” they honestly reply “I don’t know.” I’m hoping to
improve my Amharic enough to go with other volunteers to start meeting
boys on the street and encourage them to join the program.
My other responsibilities include sports coach for the girls and IT
person for the compound. Its scary to think that out of all the
volunteers and workers here, I know the most about computers.
Life is comfortable here, and I’m enjoying getting to know my students
and the other children. I’m sure once I get some grasp of the
language, I’ll be able to tell you much more about them. Thank you
for all your messages and words of support after my first email. I
wish I could address everyone individually, but this is the best I can
do for now. For the Americans, Happy Thanksgiving! And for everyone
else, I hope you have a wonderful non-holiday week!
Much love,
Virginia (Van)
Selamno from Ethiopia! My apologies for such a delay in writing, but
while I have many comforts here, a fast internet connection is not one
of them.
I hope this message finds you in good health and spirit. I cannot
believe that I have been in Ethiopia nearly a month. I’m an still
very much settling in, and every time I try to talk to the children, I
remember how very little I know, especially in language. I am living
with the Salesian community in a compound with my own bedroom and
bathroom (hot shower included!). There is a volunteer house on site,
but it is currently filled with an Italian family, a Spanish
volunteer, and two Austrian volunteers. Besides the husband of the
Italian family and his son, we are all female volunteers. I have a
beautiful courtyard outside my door, palm tree included, and a burning
trash heap outside my window.
For those of you who were in India and otherwise heard my tales, Addis
is a much cleaner city. Since we are on a plateau, the air is much
cleaner, and I expect once I get into the country more I’ll find even
healthier air. I am living on the very outskirts of the city, so it
takes nearly an hour to get to city centre and the markets. Every
night us single volunteers cook and eat dinner together, so we’re
getting plenty of vegetables and I occasionally get to throw in a
southern recipe. For Thanksgiving I’ll be making veggie pot pie,
zucchini bread, and pumpkin pie. Since there’s only one other
American volunteer and she’s not big on celebrating American holidays,
we won’t make a big fuss about everything.
As for my work, I jumped in as soon as I arrived. I started teaching
my Spoken English classes four days after I arrived. I teach at Don
Bosco High School, which is actually a very good high school for the
area. While some of my students come through the Bosco’s Children
program (a home for street boys) and others through Donato’s children
(an oratory for impoverished children) many of my students come from
middle class families. I don’t think I’m a very good teacher because
I don’t like to plan my lessons, but now that the first quarter has
ended, I think I will have to change my ways. My seniors would like
real grades instead of happy faces and frowny faces.
With my seniors, I am working with many of them to help them go to
college abroad. This is a very difficult task because they are very
late to start applying to schools in the US, and anywhere they would
want to go they would need full scholarships. I am hoping to be able
to send at least one this year, and I will start working with my
Juniors in the spring to prep them for the SAT and the TOEFL.
Altogether I have 500 students, so I’ve only learned about 6 names so
far. Since I live in the compound with Donato’s children, I also see
all 400 of those children every afternoon and weekend. I have just
started tutoring at Bosco’s Children which is a compound about 15
minutes away walking. I am working with boys/men from 16-25 years old
to teach them English. Its different working with them since they’ve
spent most of their lives on the street and when I ask a question like
“How old are you?” they honestly reply “I don’t know.” I’m hoping to
improve my Amharic enough to go with other volunteers to start meeting
boys on the street and encourage them to join the program.
My other responsibilities include sports coach for the girls and IT
person for the compound. Its scary to think that out of all the
volunteers and workers here, I know the most about computers.
Life is comfortable here, and I’m enjoying getting to know my students
and the other children. I’m sure once I get some grasp of the
language, I’ll be able to tell you much more about them. Thank you
for all your messages and words of support after my first email. I
wish I could address everyone individually, but this is the best I can
do for now. For the Americans, Happy Thanksgiving! And for everyone
else, I hope you have a wonderful non-holiday week!
Much love,
Virginia (Van)
Maybe We Should Have Taken the Nyala
Endemna Arderachu, Endemna Wallu, weyass Deunah Deru!
So I decided to go ahead and write my next exciting update from the
Cradle of Humanity (I'm sure there's a pun I could make on that)
before my life got extraordinarily busy again with school and other
work. In fact, I'm supposed to be at a teacher's meeting right now,
but since the entire meeting is in Amharic and I'm still limited to
about 30 words, I decided you all were more important.
My fellow American, Erin, and I took our first real retreat this past
week during our end of semester break. We decided to head to the Bale
Mountains in the south for one of my favorite activities, a good ol'
bit of hiking and backpacking. Before we can get to the exciting
part, I have to lament about work. We had to give exams to finish out
the semester, and between reviewing other teacher's exams for English
mistakes, writing and grading my own exams, and invigilating
(--proctoring exams, for anyone else who is confused by this word) I
got very little sleep the week before my vacation. Unfortunately, I
had to fail most of my Grade 12 students because for some reason they
think I'm an easy teacher and clearly did not take notes or even try
in my class. Hopefully, they'll get the message and try a bit harder
next semester so they can pass. It does come with a bit of
satisfaction to fail some students because they are very lazy, but I
also wonder what I can do to be a better teacher to them. I decided
they need to do a lot more work next semester to force some knowledge
into their head. They're going to hate me.
Onto the more exciting bits--Bale Mountains were beautiful and Erin
and I were able to see so many indigenous and endangered animals at
very close distance. We camped for 3 nights and hiked for two days.
The first night we had a warthog we nicknamed Pumba running through
our campsite. I kept on thinking about bacon, but the people in the
region are mainly Muslim or Orthodox and both religions consider pigs
unclean and wont eat them. Just pepper the hog and throw it in a
frying pan and I think I can change their minds. We also saw the
elusive Mountain Nyala. This is like a big deer and apparently its
rarely photographed which is strange because herds of them were all
over the place. Maybe the animals think Erin is Snow White and she
just attracts all the animals with her forest prancing.
Our guide seemed to be extremely experienced and he helped us
identify different species of eagles by markings and informed us about
the Afro-Alpine terrain which we were hiking in. To us, it looked
like a high rocky desert because it was the dry season, but he told us
for 8 months of the year its actually pretty green. Daniel The Guide
also told us that he had just led a 48 day trek for National
Geographic to search for the endangered Ethiopian Cabbarro (Wolf). We
love National Geographic here because its something easy to read and
Erin got about a dozen of them in a Christmas package. I think he
could tell we were excited, so we met with his friend who works with
the researchers and tracks the wolves. He's self-taught and can
probably identify all 200 wolves in the region by sight. So after a
night of frost, we packed and went wolf tracking. We saw seven wolves
altogether including a mother and her two cubs. They're smaller than
the American wolf, I think, and they're a reddish-light brown to blend
into the sandy grasses and light colored rocks of the terrain. One
even started posing for our camera.
Unfortunately, our guide turned an unsavory side on us, and we
decided not to continue with him for a third day of hiking as planned.
Instead of helping the two firengi women anymore, he told us to stand
by the side of the only road for a hundred kilometres and wait for
someone to pick us up to head back north. In addition, he and his
cohorts tried to compete with us for a ride for all passing vehicles.
Erin and I decided to start walking the road north to get away from
them and we eventually got picked up by a bus and stayed for a lovely
night in Dodolla and then met up with other volunteers in Ziway. They
were traveling south with 30 teenagers from the oratory to another
compound in Dilla for the feast weekend. I joined the group to Dilla
and Erin, who was a bit travel worn by then, continued north to Addis.
On the bus to Dilla, 5 of our 30 leggosch (children) did not vomit.
We were very proud of the the five. In Dilla, they took as many
showers in the house as they could, climbed the mango trees and got
sick off of unripe mangoes, and nearly drowned trying to swim. I was
lifeguard on duty at the pool, and I encouraged the drowning by making
the boys who couldn't swim (nearly all of them) do cannonballs at the
deep end of the pool and I promised I would bring them up from the
bottom. That part was fine. I did forget to tell them not to breathe
in once they were in the water, so quite a few became water-logged.
But saving peoples' lives appears to be a really good bonding method,
unless you are the one to have caused the near-death experience. Oh,
the things I learn as a missioner.
I also ran my very first race in Ethiopia. It was only a 5km race,
but I had 14 year-old-girls kick my butt so hard, my friend was
embarrassed to say hello to me. My excuse is that I was holding hands
and pulling along two other little girls the entire way, but really I
wouldn't have done much better without them. No doubt, Ethiopians are
fast. And none of the girls were wearing shoes. I'm such an
embarrassment.
Sorry if this is a bit long, but I feel I won't have time to write an
email for a while. Being a good teacher takes a lot of time and
effort, and hopefully I'll also start Amharic lessons soon so I
understand more than "Anchi. Gobez." ("You. Good") Please keep on
sending letters as its a bit easier for me to respond to those.
Anyone who is inspired to send a package (don't feel pressured), I
have most common goods here, but new music, especially hiphop and good
Christian music for the kids is always appreciated as well as spare
flash drives (filled with music might be nice), pictures are good, and
of course, chocolate. Since Orthodox Lent has started, I think I've
decided to give up kolo (roasted and spiced barley), which is
basically my crack here. Chocolate is too rare to actually be given
up. Love and good thoughts to all of you. Hope you're thawing out
from the shell of winter and your Spring looks as bright as everyday
here. Jealous? I thought so.
Warmest regards,
Virginia/Va/Van
So I decided to go ahead and write my next exciting update from the
Cradle of Humanity (I'm sure there's a pun I could make on that)
before my life got extraordinarily busy again with school and other
work. In fact, I'm supposed to be at a teacher's meeting right now,
but since the entire meeting is in Amharic and I'm still limited to
about 30 words, I decided you all were more important.
My fellow American, Erin, and I took our first real retreat this past
week during our end of semester break. We decided to head to the Bale
Mountains in the south for one of my favorite activities, a good ol'
bit of hiking and backpacking. Before we can get to the exciting
part, I have to lament about work. We had to give exams to finish out
the semester, and between reviewing other teacher's exams for English
mistakes, writing and grading my own exams, and invigilating
(--proctoring exams, for anyone else who is confused by this word) I
got very little sleep the week before my vacation. Unfortunately, I
had to fail most of my Grade 12 students because for some reason they
think I'm an easy teacher and clearly did not take notes or even try
in my class. Hopefully, they'll get the message and try a bit harder
next semester so they can pass. It does come with a bit of
satisfaction to fail some students because they are very lazy, but I
also wonder what I can do to be a better teacher to them. I decided
they need to do a lot more work next semester to force some knowledge
into their head. They're going to hate me.
Onto the more exciting bits--Bale Mountains were beautiful and Erin
and I were able to see so many indigenous and endangered animals at
very close distance. We camped for 3 nights and hiked for two days.
The first night we had a warthog we nicknamed Pumba running through
our campsite. I kept on thinking about bacon, but the people in the
region are mainly Muslim or Orthodox and both religions consider pigs
unclean and wont eat them. Just pepper the hog and throw it in a
frying pan and I think I can change their minds. We also saw the
elusive Mountain Nyala. This is like a big deer and apparently its
rarely photographed which is strange because herds of them were all
over the place. Maybe the animals think Erin is Snow White and she
just attracts all the animals with her forest prancing.
Our guide seemed to be extremely experienced and he helped us
identify different species of eagles by markings and informed us about
the Afro-Alpine terrain which we were hiking in. To us, it looked
like a high rocky desert because it was the dry season, but he told us
for 8 months of the year its actually pretty green. Daniel The Guide
also told us that he had just led a 48 day trek for National
Geographic to search for the endangered Ethiopian Cabbarro (Wolf). We
love National Geographic here because its something easy to read and
Erin got about a dozen of them in a Christmas package. I think he
could tell we were excited, so we met with his friend who works with
the researchers and tracks the wolves. He's self-taught and can
probably identify all 200 wolves in the region by sight. So after a
night of frost, we packed and went wolf tracking. We saw seven wolves
altogether including a mother and her two cubs. They're smaller than
the American wolf, I think, and they're a reddish-light brown to blend
into the sandy grasses and light colored rocks of the terrain. One
even started posing for our camera.
Unfortunately, our guide turned an unsavory side on us, and we
decided not to continue with him for a third day of hiking as planned.
Instead of helping the two firengi women anymore, he told us to stand
by the side of the only road for a hundred kilometres and wait for
someone to pick us up to head back north. In addition, he and his
cohorts tried to compete with us for a ride for all passing vehicles.
Erin and I decided to start walking the road north to get away from
them and we eventually got picked up by a bus and stayed for a lovely
night in Dodolla and then met up with other volunteers in Ziway. They
were traveling south with 30 teenagers from the oratory to another
compound in Dilla for the feast weekend. I joined the group to Dilla
and Erin, who was a bit travel worn by then, continued north to Addis.
On the bus to Dilla, 5 of our 30 leggosch (children) did not vomit.
We were very proud of the the five. In Dilla, they took as many
showers in the house as they could, climbed the mango trees and got
sick off of unripe mangoes, and nearly drowned trying to swim. I was
lifeguard on duty at the pool, and I encouraged the drowning by making
the boys who couldn't swim (nearly all of them) do cannonballs at the
deep end of the pool and I promised I would bring them up from the
bottom. That part was fine. I did forget to tell them not to breathe
in once they were in the water, so quite a few became water-logged.
But saving peoples' lives appears to be a really good bonding method,
unless you are the one to have caused the near-death experience. Oh,
the things I learn as a missioner.
I also ran my very first race in Ethiopia. It was only a 5km race,
but I had 14 year-old-girls kick my butt so hard, my friend was
embarrassed to say hello to me. My excuse is that I was holding hands
and pulling along two other little girls the entire way, but really I
wouldn't have done much better without them. No doubt, Ethiopians are
fast. And none of the girls were wearing shoes. I'm such an
embarrassment.
Sorry if this is a bit long, but I feel I won't have time to write an
email for a while. Being a good teacher takes a lot of time and
effort, and hopefully I'll also start Amharic lessons soon so I
understand more than "Anchi. Gobez." ("You. Good") Please keep on
sending letters as its a bit easier for me to respond to those.
Anyone who is inspired to send a package (don't feel pressured), I
have most common goods here, but new music, especially hiphop and good
Christian music for the kids is always appreciated as well as spare
flash drives (filled with music might be nice), pictures are good, and
of course, chocolate. Since Orthodox Lent has started, I think I've
decided to give up kolo (roasted and spiced barley), which is
basically my crack here. Chocolate is too rare to actually be given
up. Love and good thoughts to all of you. Hope you're thawing out
from the shell of winter and your Spring looks as bright as everyday
here. Jealous? I thought so.
Warmest regards,
Virginia/Va/Van
Beauty, School, Drop Out
Hello Friends, Family, and Far Away Loved Ones,
Spring is rolling nicely into summer for many of you, and I hope
everything is coming up roses. The summer season here in Ethiopia is
actually known as the “Big Rainy Season,” so we have a lot more mud
and desperate attempts to ford giant waterways that form in the
construction site that is our compound. Since the rain really hasn’t
stopped all year (unusual), no one knows what to expect from this
season. I hope it means less rain, but that may mean trouble for
farmers and food production for a country that is the poster child for
food aid.
We had elections in this country a few weeks ago, all went very
peacefully, and we are happy to celebrate another 5 years with the
current government with hardly a change in any area. After 19 years
of ruling, why change now?
My work has been steadily changing away from teaching as my Grade 10
and Grade 12 classes have been freed from regular lessons to study and
take their national exams. In Ethiopia, the system is much more akin
to most of Europe where students have to prove sufficient knowledge in
Grade 10 to move onto preparatory school, or they will go onto
vocational school. In Grade 12 they must get high scores to get into
the university education program they want because almost all the
universities are free government universities and they’re all
competing for top spots. As a student explained to me 1 million
students take the Grade 10 exam and only 100,000 pass onto preparatory
school. Then of those students, only 75,000 places are available in
universities. More students drop out after their first semester of
university because the exams are too difficult, so about 50,000
students a year continue a university education in Ethiopia. In a
country of 80 million people where more than half are under the age of
18, it proves to be some staggering numbers.
As Ive stepped away more from teaching, Ive started to be more of a
mentor/ counsellor. I have groups of teens that I do different
activities with, and concentrating on the girls, we talk about
different issues that are important to them (religion, family, boys,
etc). Im using my awesomeness to try to lead them to some better
ideas about women, relationships and how to be strong. We also have
some pretty interesting discussions on religion, homosexuality, and
race, most of which would be utterly horrifying to the average
American listener. But as is most things, its cultural.
Unfortunately, for a country that most of us would see as pretty
homogenous, there is a damaging racist mentality.
Speaking of which, a few weeks ago there was a carnival held by the
Grade 12 students in which we had a beauty contest. The girls from
mostly grades 9 and 10 took both Western and traditional clothing and
strutted up and down a stage to waiting boys with their cell phones
out ready to take pictures from a more than exposed angle. The
dresses were short, the comments from the crowd were derogatory, and
basically it was something you wouldn’t even expect to see in an
American high school (or be allowed to). I was pretty disappointed
with the students and one student in particular I was shocked with.
It gave me an opportunity to talk to her about her, um, performance,
and many other things. Shes unique in the school as her parents are
descendants from Turks and Pakistanis respectively and shes very light
skinned. Daily she has to deal with being called a firengi
(foreigner) and most people wont talk to her because she looks
different, and even more because shes Musulim. No wonder shes trying
to get out.
Im looking forward to a trip to the West and North this summer to
visit some more historic Ethiopian cities and ruins. Hopefully I’ll
have more interesting stories after those experiences and maybe I wont
lose my camera this time so you all can see pictures. It may be a
while before I see most of you again, but you all are in my thoughts
and prayers.
Cheers,
Virginia/Van/Va
Spring is rolling nicely into summer for many of you, and I hope
everything is coming up roses. The summer season here in Ethiopia is
actually known as the “Big Rainy Season,” so we have a lot more mud
and desperate attempts to ford giant waterways that form in the
construction site that is our compound. Since the rain really hasn’t
stopped all year (unusual), no one knows what to expect from this
season. I hope it means less rain, but that may mean trouble for
farmers and food production for a country that is the poster child for
food aid.
We had elections in this country a few weeks ago, all went very
peacefully, and we are happy to celebrate another 5 years with the
current government with hardly a change in any area. After 19 years
of ruling, why change now?
My work has been steadily changing away from teaching as my Grade 10
and Grade 12 classes have been freed from regular lessons to study and
take their national exams. In Ethiopia, the system is much more akin
to most of Europe where students have to prove sufficient knowledge in
Grade 10 to move onto preparatory school, or they will go onto
vocational school. In Grade 12 they must get high scores to get into
the university education program they want because almost all the
universities are free government universities and they’re all
competing for top spots. As a student explained to me 1 million
students take the Grade 10 exam and only 100,000 pass onto preparatory
school. Then of those students, only 75,000 places are available in
universities. More students drop out after their first semester of
university because the exams are too difficult, so about 50,000
students a year continue a university education in Ethiopia. In a
country of 80 million people where more than half are under the age of
18, it proves to be some staggering numbers.
As Ive stepped away more from teaching, Ive started to be more of a
mentor/ counsellor. I have groups of teens that I do different
activities with, and concentrating on the girls, we talk about
different issues that are important to them (religion, family, boys,
etc). Im using my awesomeness to try to lead them to some better
ideas about women, relationships and how to be strong. We also have
some pretty interesting discussions on religion, homosexuality, and
race, most of which would be utterly horrifying to the average
American listener. But as is most things, its cultural.
Unfortunately, for a country that most of us would see as pretty
homogenous, there is a damaging racist mentality.
Speaking of which, a few weeks ago there was a carnival held by the
Grade 12 students in which we had a beauty contest. The girls from
mostly grades 9 and 10 took both Western and traditional clothing and
strutted up and down a stage to waiting boys with their cell phones
out ready to take pictures from a more than exposed angle. The
dresses were short, the comments from the crowd were derogatory, and
basically it was something you wouldn’t even expect to see in an
American high school (or be allowed to). I was pretty disappointed
with the students and one student in particular I was shocked with.
It gave me an opportunity to talk to her about her, um, performance,
and many other things. Shes unique in the school as her parents are
descendants from Turks and Pakistanis respectively and shes very light
skinned. Daily she has to deal with being called a firengi
(foreigner) and most people wont talk to her because she looks
different, and even more because shes Musulim. No wonder shes trying
to get out.
Im looking forward to a trip to the West and North this summer to
visit some more historic Ethiopian cities and ruins. Hopefully I’ll
have more interesting stories after those experiences and maybe I wont
lose my camera this time so you all can see pictures. It may be a
while before I see most of you again, but you all are in my thoughts
and prayers.
Cheers,
Virginia/Van/Va
Tere Linda, Van Bastard
Hello Dear Friends and Family and Estranged Acquaintances,
I know its a little late, but Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Warm
Ground Hog Day, Lovely Valentine's Day, and any other holidays on
which I have neglected all of you. I apologize deeply for my literary
absence, and I hope only to ease the anguish by preparing a
correspondence of great length.
The Second Coming of Christmas
Christmas passed this year with much of the same hullabaloo as last
year. This year I was more prepared for the gluttony that is always
bound to happen on holidays. Visiting 5 houses in three days, I
probably put on a good 15 lbs in the same time. We experienced
several varieties of Christmas this year as one of the Austrian
volunteer's family was staying with us. They even packed a fully made
gingerbread house into their carry-on and a miniature Christmas tree
in their luggage. I call that dedication to the holiday.
New Year's in Sodo, Who Dropped the Ball
My American compatriot and I were able to steal ourselves away from
our hole here in Addis to the southern region of Wollaita to visit
another American volunteer. Poor Steven was nearly completely alone
during the holidays as he's the only volunteer from our organization
at the site and his site director (and only other community member)
was away to visit family for a month. He's been hosting other
Salesian priests who have been filling in as site director in the mean
time, but its been a pretty solitary life for him.
Feeling compassionate, we grabbed a backpack, hopped on public
transport, and rode for half a day into the countryside. Upon
arriving at the compound we found it had beautiful new buildings,
spacious comfortable guest rooms for twenty, and a wonderful view of
the surrounding areas. Of course, the only amenities lacking were
running water, electricity, and a road that you can drive down during
the rainy season. But I think that's asking too much for one place.
New Years' passed quietly by as we watched the news about floods in
Australia, and celebrated watching R. Kelly singing at the Sheraton in
Addis. We even pulled out sparklers to the amusement of the visiting
priest. We found out that Steven was still alive and enjoying his
quiet life, so we rolled on back to Addis to find out that everyone
(the children and teachers) that we had gone to stay at the Sheraton
for the weekend.
Temket Rolls out the Red Carpet
I believe I explained Temket last year, but as a refresher, its the
holiday celebrating the Baptism of Jesus. This happens the week after
Ethiopian Christmas and continues to be one of the baffling order of
events created by the mixture of the Orthodox and Catholic churches in
Ethiopia. I have realised that on any given day you could be
celebrating holidays from two weeks before or a month ahead according
to the European calendar. Or somedays, they just feel like
celebrating according to the European calendar. I feel like Forest
Gump when walking into the chapel in the morning, because I never know
what I'm going to get inside.
In any case, having experienced the holiday the year before, I knew
what to look forward to. Unfortunately, I had to finish a lot of work
at the school before I could join the procession with the Ark of the
Covenant, and I couldn't go directly with my students. The churches
always process to a body of water to place the Ark of the Covenant on
a river for 2 days before processing back. I decided to come from the
opposite direction hoping to catch the front of the procession sooner.
I'm not sure if I noticed this last year, but as the beating drums
and ululating voices echoed down the road, I saw men running forward
with large rolls of carpet. They were actually rolling out red carpet
for the priests to walk on for the entire 5 km walk!
Holiday to Harar
I was finally able to enjoy a somewhat longer vacation (4 days) during
midsemester break from school. I was desperate to finish grading and
get out of town, and I had gone back and forth about where I actually
wanted to go, but I decided to head East for the city of Harar. Harar
is the oldest Muslim city in Ethiopia and its known for the wall that
surrounds the entire old city. Inside the wall, aside from the main
streets, the rest of the city is built like a maze with all the doors
built into continuous white walls of rock that narrow cobbled walkways
through the city. The city is rather small, so its hard to get lost,
but you do have to have a good sense of direction as you cant know
where you're headed until its a few metres in front of you. The
streets wind up and down along the hilly terrain, and people pop out
mysteriously from unforeseen holes in the wall.
The outer perimeter can be circumnavigated in about an hour, and its
spotted with pretty gardens and large, knobby trees which are a rarity
in Addis. The markets are frenetic, as is common, but there are much
fewer people begging or taking notice of the foreigners. The wall also
has holes that are gated; these are opened at night to let the hyenas
in and eat the refuse.
The hyenas were by far the coolest part of Harar, even though I felt
cheated as my friend got a my intimate experience with fewer tourists
vying for a chance to feed them. But we had made friends with a guy
who knew how to get things down, and I was shoved forward and given my
chance to sit face to face with the beasts that cause so much terror
and heartache throughout the country. But when I met them, they just
seemed like big dogs. Their fur is really coarse, and they have an
odd looking face, but the hyenas were so used to human companionship
that it was easy to feed them raw meat off a stick. And the "Hyena
Man" was a character himself. He had a barking high-pitched laugh and
he did everything to play it up for the cameras, just like the hyenas
themselves.
Other than feeding hyenas and taking a walk around the city, my friend
and I mainly sat with our new acquaintances chewing chat. Chat is a
local bush that supposedly has a drug-like affect like a stimulant and
is also helpful for stomach problems and headaches (I think its close
to a coca leaf if you've been in South America). I don't know why
they call it a stimulant, because anyone who chews it regularly just
sits around all day. In any case, it goes best with Coke and
peanuts, but gives you very bad cotton mouth, and I guess its
something cheap and easy to do for the unemployed young men.
After visiting Harar, I went one day to a city an hour away to visit a
former student and her family. Dire Dawa is very organised and neatly
layed out which is a contrast to every other city here, and has
expansive parks and plenty of greenery despite being in a near desert
area. I guess these are the influences of so many foreigners for the
past 150 years. Many people are of Asian, Turkish, or Middle-eastern
decent here, like my students family. Its a very relaxed city, and we
enjoyed spending the Saturday afternoon eating camel meat and smoking
shisha (hukah) with her female family members. Unfortunately, I had a
wicked bad migraine and had to sleep for the afternoon so I couldn't
explore the city more, but what I did see was quite affluent, new, and
pleasant.
Mohammed's Birthday and the Mountain
This year the mountain did not come to Mohammed or to Donato, and so
we moved ourselves and 300 children for a picnicking holiday. With
only six responsible adults, this is much like trying to control a
hurricane, the only thing you can do is prepare for disaster. It took
us 2 hours to walk all the way to our mountain spot, and immediately
the children flew themselves over the cols in search of rabbits and
hyenas and other wild animals that they were surely too noisy to find.
When it came time to lunch, we sat them down in groups of 40, as we
packed the bags of sandwiches and handed out food. Of course, we came
to find out that the older boys, perhaps ten of them) had consumed a
tenth of the sandwiches on their way to the mountain. Since this is
typical, we were prepared with extra sandwiches and an oath that they
would never come out with us again. Lunch finished, the children
scattered again, and after another hour of romping on the mountain we
blew the whistle for everyone to come back home. Of course, they
didn't hear or heed the call and Donato and Teresa started walking
back. They said that the children would eventually get hungry and
find their way home. So, while the first group of children arrived
back at the compound around 3 PM, others didn't show until 6 PM or not
at all. I think all of them returned home eventually, but then again,
its hard to count 300 children when they're moving.
Carne Carnival
With the Easter fast approaching, the Gr. 12 students hurriedly put
together their annual carnival. They had the usual ping pong tables
and foosball tables, basketball and football tournaments, and the
beauty contest. Learning from last year, I became the enforcer and
let no boys stand underneath the stage and certainly not take pictures
from too close a distance as the girls paraded in skirts that showed
off too much. It worked pretty well, and I don't think there will be
any obscene pictures this year, but it did take 3 hours of standing in
a sweltering hot room with sweating teenagers to get through the whole
event. I am, um, proud to say that the top three girls were all
basketball players. We may not play well, but we're pretty.
Nonetheless, the event did inspire me to dress prettier, and I raided
the donated clothes closet to find some cute dresses that I'll be
wearing after two months of fasting. The girls told me I had to dress
nicer, and so I suppose I'll listen.
I hope this message finds you all in good spirits and fine health.
Also, if anyone would like to purchase any items from my kids
(baskets, bags, necklaces, such) let me know and I can give you more
information. Looking forward to hearing from and see you all.
Cheers,
Virginia/Van/Va
I know its a little late, but Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Warm
Ground Hog Day, Lovely Valentine's Day, and any other holidays on
which I have neglected all of you. I apologize deeply for my literary
absence, and I hope only to ease the anguish by preparing a
correspondence of great length.
The Second Coming of Christmas
Christmas passed this year with much of the same hullabaloo as last
year. This year I was more prepared for the gluttony that is always
bound to happen on holidays. Visiting 5 houses in three days, I
probably put on a good 15 lbs in the same time. We experienced
several varieties of Christmas this year as one of the Austrian
volunteer's family was staying with us. They even packed a fully made
gingerbread house into their carry-on and a miniature Christmas tree
in their luggage. I call that dedication to the holiday.
New Year's in Sodo, Who Dropped the Ball
My American compatriot and I were able to steal ourselves away from
our hole here in Addis to the southern region of Wollaita to visit
another American volunteer. Poor Steven was nearly completely alone
during the holidays as he's the only volunteer from our organization
at the site and his site director (and only other community member)
was away to visit family for a month. He's been hosting other
Salesian priests who have been filling in as site director in the mean
time, but its been a pretty solitary life for him.
Feeling compassionate, we grabbed a backpack, hopped on public
transport, and rode for half a day into the countryside. Upon
arriving at the compound we found it had beautiful new buildings,
spacious comfortable guest rooms for twenty, and a wonderful view of
the surrounding areas. Of course, the only amenities lacking were
running water, electricity, and a road that you can drive down during
the rainy season. But I think that's asking too much for one place.
New Years' passed quietly by as we watched the news about floods in
Australia, and celebrated watching R. Kelly singing at the Sheraton in
Addis. We even pulled out sparklers to the amusement of the visiting
priest. We found out that Steven was still alive and enjoying his
quiet life, so we rolled on back to Addis to find out that everyone
(the children and teachers) that we had gone to stay at the Sheraton
for the weekend.
Temket Rolls out the Red Carpet
I believe I explained Temket last year, but as a refresher, its the
holiday celebrating the Baptism of Jesus. This happens the week after
Ethiopian Christmas and continues to be one of the baffling order of
events created by the mixture of the Orthodox and Catholic churches in
Ethiopia. I have realised that on any given day you could be
celebrating holidays from two weeks before or a month ahead according
to the European calendar. Or somedays, they just feel like
celebrating according to the European calendar. I feel like Forest
Gump when walking into the chapel in the morning, because I never know
what I'm going to get inside.
In any case, having experienced the holiday the year before, I knew
what to look forward to. Unfortunately, I had to finish a lot of work
at the school before I could join the procession with the Ark of the
Covenant, and I couldn't go directly with my students. The churches
always process to a body of water to place the Ark of the Covenant on
a river for 2 days before processing back. I decided to come from the
opposite direction hoping to catch the front of the procession sooner.
I'm not sure if I noticed this last year, but as the beating drums
and ululating voices echoed down the road, I saw men running forward
with large rolls of carpet. They were actually rolling out red carpet
for the priests to walk on for the entire 5 km walk!
Holiday to Harar
I was finally able to enjoy a somewhat longer vacation (4 days) during
midsemester break from school. I was desperate to finish grading and
get out of town, and I had gone back and forth about where I actually
wanted to go, but I decided to head East for the city of Harar. Harar
is the oldest Muslim city in Ethiopia and its known for the wall that
surrounds the entire old city. Inside the wall, aside from the main
streets, the rest of the city is built like a maze with all the doors
built into continuous white walls of rock that narrow cobbled walkways
through the city. The city is rather small, so its hard to get lost,
but you do have to have a good sense of direction as you cant know
where you're headed until its a few metres in front of you. The
streets wind up and down along the hilly terrain, and people pop out
mysteriously from unforeseen holes in the wall.
The outer perimeter can be circumnavigated in about an hour, and its
spotted with pretty gardens and large, knobby trees which are a rarity
in Addis. The markets are frenetic, as is common, but there are much
fewer people begging or taking notice of the foreigners. The wall also
has holes that are gated; these are opened at night to let the hyenas
in and eat the refuse.
The hyenas were by far the coolest part of Harar, even though I felt
cheated as my friend got a my intimate experience with fewer tourists
vying for a chance to feed them. But we had made friends with a guy
who knew how to get things down, and I was shoved forward and given my
chance to sit face to face with the beasts that cause so much terror
and heartache throughout the country. But when I met them, they just
seemed like big dogs. Their fur is really coarse, and they have an
odd looking face, but the hyenas were so used to human companionship
that it was easy to feed them raw meat off a stick. And the "Hyena
Man" was a character himself. He had a barking high-pitched laugh and
he did everything to play it up for the cameras, just like the hyenas
themselves.
Other than feeding hyenas and taking a walk around the city, my friend
and I mainly sat with our new acquaintances chewing chat. Chat is a
local bush that supposedly has a drug-like affect like a stimulant and
is also helpful for stomach problems and headaches (I think its close
to a coca leaf if you've been in South America). I don't know why
they call it a stimulant, because anyone who chews it regularly just
sits around all day. In any case, it goes best with Coke and
peanuts, but gives you very bad cotton mouth, and I guess its
something cheap and easy to do for the unemployed young men.
After visiting Harar, I went one day to a city an hour away to visit a
former student and her family. Dire Dawa is very organised and neatly
layed out which is a contrast to every other city here, and has
expansive parks and plenty of greenery despite being in a near desert
area. I guess these are the influences of so many foreigners for the
past 150 years. Many people are of Asian, Turkish, or Middle-eastern
decent here, like my students family. Its a very relaxed city, and we
enjoyed spending the Saturday afternoon eating camel meat and smoking
shisha (hukah) with her female family members. Unfortunately, I had a
wicked bad migraine and had to sleep for the afternoon so I couldn't
explore the city more, but what I did see was quite affluent, new, and
pleasant.
Mohammed's Birthday and the Mountain
This year the mountain did not come to Mohammed or to Donato, and so
we moved ourselves and 300 children for a picnicking holiday. With
only six responsible adults, this is much like trying to control a
hurricane, the only thing you can do is prepare for disaster. It took
us 2 hours to walk all the way to our mountain spot, and immediately
the children flew themselves over the cols in search of rabbits and
hyenas and other wild animals that they were surely too noisy to find.
When it came time to lunch, we sat them down in groups of 40, as we
packed the bags of sandwiches and handed out food. Of course, we came
to find out that the older boys, perhaps ten of them) had consumed a
tenth of the sandwiches on their way to the mountain. Since this is
typical, we were prepared with extra sandwiches and an oath that they
would never come out with us again. Lunch finished, the children
scattered again, and after another hour of romping on the mountain we
blew the whistle for everyone to come back home. Of course, they
didn't hear or heed the call and Donato and Teresa started walking
back. They said that the children would eventually get hungry and
find their way home. So, while the first group of children arrived
back at the compound around 3 PM, others didn't show until 6 PM or not
at all. I think all of them returned home eventually, but then again,
its hard to count 300 children when they're moving.
Carne Carnival
With the Easter fast approaching, the Gr. 12 students hurriedly put
together their annual carnival. They had the usual ping pong tables
and foosball tables, basketball and football tournaments, and the
beauty contest. Learning from last year, I became the enforcer and
let no boys stand underneath the stage and certainly not take pictures
from too close a distance as the girls paraded in skirts that showed
off too much. It worked pretty well, and I don't think there will be
any obscene pictures this year, but it did take 3 hours of standing in
a sweltering hot room with sweating teenagers to get through the whole
event. I am, um, proud to say that the top three girls were all
basketball players. We may not play well, but we're pretty.
Nonetheless, the event did inspire me to dress prettier, and I raided
the donated clothes closet to find some cute dresses that I'll be
wearing after two months of fasting. The girls told me I had to dress
nicer, and so I suppose I'll listen.
I hope this message finds you all in good spirits and fine health.
Also, if anyone would like to purchase any items from my kids
(baskets, bags, necklaces, such) let me know and I can give you more
information. Looking forward to hearing from and see you all.
Cheers,
Virginia/Van/Va
The Email that was Never Sent
Hello and Good Tidings Faithful Adventure Followers,
As many of you know, this email is very late in coming. I left Ethiopia over a month ago, and I've been cruising France and the South of US since then. For some reason, I couldnt get myself together to write this email. Maybe it was my reluctance to admit that it was over. Or maybe it was because I've drowned myself in activity since then, not stopping to actually reflect on what has happen. But just as watching the last Harry Potter film has cleared me of my sense of duty towards JK Rowling, this email signifies the end of a chapter in the book of Van.
A History of the World, Pt 2
This is a section which I would love to write, but I'm not feeling up to the challenge yet, and I'll never send this email if I wait for motivation. You can ask me personally if you want to hear about my trip to the historical circuit in the North of Ethiopia. Otherwise, you can simmer in the mystery.
As many of you know, this email is very late in coming. I left Ethiopia over a month ago, and I've been cruising France and the South of US since then. For some reason, I couldnt get myself together to write this email. Maybe it was my reluctance to admit that it was over. Or maybe it was because I've drowned myself in activity since then, not stopping to actually reflect on what has happen. But just as watching the last Harry Potter film has cleared me of my sense of duty towards JK Rowling, this email signifies the end of a chapter in the book of Van.
A History of the World, Pt 2
This is a section which I would love to write, but I'm not feeling up to the challenge yet, and I'll never send this email if I wait for motivation. You can ask me personally if you want to hear about my trip to the historical circuit in the North of Ethiopia. Otherwise, you can simmer in the mystery.
Leaving on a Jet Plane
My last days in Ethiopia were almost as to be expected. I didn't want to tell anyone that I was leaving until I had to so as not to drag out the grieving process. That's not me being sarcastic. Ethiopians truly have a way of emotions, and endlessly repeating a theme that I cannot grasp. If I told them the date I was leaving a year before, they'd start the crying and bemoaning then and not stop until I had left. So, I kept it short, and told most of my students just 4 or 5 days before I actually left. I even kept a mystery for the volunteers who only knew a week and a half before my departure. I ran from house to house of my students, saying goodbyes to parents, receiving wonderfully tacky gifts, on par with those you'd pick up at an Outer Banks "Under $5" store. Thankfully, the students I really got to know also knew I wasnt much of a crier, so there weren't so many tears. I left a horrible load of materials to be sorted by the other volunteers because I just didnt know what to do with anything with the collection of materials compiled over two years. I mean, I hadnt lived in any one place for that long in quite some time. With bags packed and room cleaned, I headed to the Addis airport, something I'd done countless times over the past two years. But this time, I learned what was on the other side of the gate. I boarded a sleepy, half-filled plane to take me a world away.
The Royal Wedding
I arrived in a city and I country I love on a sunny, afternoon. Nothing can take away the heart aches like a glance at the Eifel Tower and the prospects of a truly spectacular wedding. I had planned to stay in Paris for a night, but my friend--the bride--insisted I make my way straight down to her village outside of Lyon. An uneventful train ride later, and I was hugging and kissing a friend who I hadnt seen since her sister's wedding in the same place three years prior. It was still a fantasy to me to be able to hug someone I knew. I was a little out of sorts after such a long travel, and not being used to the Western world. I was mind-boggled by all the white people, and people kissing on the street, and exposing clothing. I felt more than awkward greeting her and her fiance's family at the dinner table. At least they were all well traveled and very kind about my reintegration into society. I spent the next few days helping the family transform their chateau into a wedding wonderland. It was an absolutely gorgeous affair with all the women donning hats (myself included) and plenty of good people and good champagne. I danced the night away with the Mexican groom's family, but as I took too liberally to the spirits, I ended up on the floor a few times. I also found some nice British friends to speak English with, and we had a good time comparing this to the actual royal wedding. We only lacked the priest doing a cartwheel in the church.
Le ciel du Paris
I didnt really have a plan after the wedding finished. I didnt even have a plane ticket. My friend's family were all amused by this, and her parents graciously took me in for a few days after all of their own children had left. I had a vague plan of traveling around until I was tired, and since it was so close, I started in Geneva. I carpooled with some strangers to the city and hefted my backpack to the only hostel I had read about in the city. As all things in Geneva, it was pristine with a formal air of gentleman stiffly waiting at the opera for his partner to arrive. The city was in all ways respectful, but seemed to lack character. I was spending my time sleeping in any outdoor venue I found. Park benches, mountain tops, etc. I was lost to my European dreaming when I was suddenly aware that I knew the girl standing beside me in the hostel. As it turned out, my old roommate's sister had also come to Geneva for a few days. What are the freakin' odds! It was fun to sit and chat and learn about american things (although she too had been an ex-pat for a little while). But we were both moving on the next morning and said our goodbyes as quickly as our hellos.
I decided very quickly that all I wanted was sleep and I shouldnt have to pay for it. So, instead of an extended European adventure, I had purchased a ticket home for the following week. But there were still some surprises left. I called my friend in Paris and she said she was leaving the city for the weekend with her friends and I was free to join them. And so, not knowing anyone save my friend, I did. I carpooled again to France, then metro, bus, and once again I was in a car with 8 strangers. It was only after 4 hours of driving that I decided to ask where we were going. Apparently, my friend's family owned a house on the coast beyond Nantes. I was excited to see the ocean again, and even more excited when I realised her family home had 14 bedrooms. I woke up early the next morning to waves crashing on the shore and salt in the air. It was great getting to know everyone, and we had a great time going on a very spirited run, then cracking oysters off the rocks, and I cooked a nice mexican dinner for the french. We stayed up half the night dancing "le roc" and singing traditional french songs. (They were singing, I was laughing at all the varieties of drinking songs) One of the girls was firm on repeating that she was "a real american girl" with a very thick french accent. In true french fashion, we rolled out of bed early the next morning to walk to mass, and listen to perhaps the worst cantor ever. It was one of those churches where you weren't sure if you had accidentally stumbled upon a funeral because everyone was old and decript and the priest has a slightly mournful look.
We returned to Paris, I with a few more Parisien friends, and they with a good earful of an American accent. I stayed with my friend a few more days in her cozy apartment under the shadow of the Eifel Tower. As some of you might know, I requested a scavenger hunt for my short time in Paris, since I had no real objective. This forced me to talk to people and encouraged such strange behavior as a headstand at Sacre-Coeur, chasing pigeons in Le Jardin de Tullieries, or drinking a Heineken on the Pont Alexandre III at 10 am. I did most of these on the morning before I left and was literally running from place to place. My last destination was the Maison de Balzac to sit in the writer's chair. I talked my way into the house for free, and then found some lovely American women to take my picture. At that point, I was unwilling to cross the velvet rope, and they were discouraging the idea as well.
Home Again, home again
My last days in Ethiopia were almost as to be expected. I didn't want to tell anyone that I was leaving until I had to so as not to drag out the grieving process. That's not me being sarcastic. Ethiopians truly have a way of emotions, and endlessly repeating a theme that I cannot grasp. If I told them the date I was leaving a year before, they'd start the crying and bemoaning then and not stop until I had left. So, I kept it short, and told most of my students just 4 or 5 days before I actually left. I even kept a mystery for the volunteers who only knew a week and a half before my departure. I ran from house to house of my students, saying goodbyes to parents, receiving wonderfully tacky gifts, on par with those you'd pick up at an Outer Banks "Under $5" store. Thankfully, the students I really got to know also knew I wasnt much of a crier, so there weren't so many tears. I left a horrible load of materials to be sorted by the other volunteers because I just didnt know what to do with anything with the collection of materials compiled over two years. I mean, I hadnt lived in any one place for that long in quite some time. With bags packed and room cleaned, I headed to the Addis airport, something I'd done countless times over the past two years. But this time, I learned what was on the other side of the gate. I boarded a sleepy, half-filled plane to take me a world away.
The Royal Wedding
I arrived in a city and I country I love on a sunny, afternoon. Nothing can take away the heart aches like a glance at the Eifel Tower and the prospects of a truly spectacular wedding. I had planned to stay in Paris for a night, but my friend--the bride--insisted I make my way straight down to her village outside of Lyon. An uneventful train ride later, and I was hugging and kissing a friend who I hadnt seen since her sister's wedding in the same place three years prior. It was still a fantasy to me to be able to hug someone I knew. I was a little out of sorts after such a long travel, and not being used to the Western world. I was mind-boggled by all the white people, and people kissing on the street, and exposing clothing. I felt more than awkward greeting her and her fiance's family at the dinner table. At least they were all well traveled and very kind about my reintegration into society. I spent the next few days helping the family transform their chateau into a wedding wonderland. It was an absolutely gorgeous affair with all the women donning hats (myself included) and plenty of good people and good champagne. I danced the night away with the Mexican groom's family, but as I took too liberally to the spirits, I ended up on the floor a few times. I also found some nice British friends to speak English with, and we had a good time comparing this to the actual royal wedding. We only lacked the priest doing a cartwheel in the church.
Le ciel du Paris
I didnt really have a plan after the wedding finished. I didnt even have a plane ticket. My friend's family were all amused by this, and her parents graciously took me in for a few days after all of their own children had left. I had a vague plan of traveling around until I was tired, and since it was so close, I started in Geneva. I carpooled with some strangers to the city and hefted my backpack to the only hostel I had read about in the city. As all things in Geneva, it was pristine with a formal air of gentleman stiffly waiting at the opera for his partner to arrive. The city was in all ways respectful, but seemed to lack character. I was spending my time sleeping in any outdoor venue I found. Park benches, mountain tops, etc. I was lost to my European dreaming when I was suddenly aware that I knew the girl standing beside me in the hostel. As it turned out, my old roommate's sister had also come to Geneva for a few days. What are the freakin' odds! It was fun to sit and chat and learn about american things (although she too had been an ex-pat for a little while). But we were both moving on the next morning and said our goodbyes as quickly as our hellos.
I decided very quickly that all I wanted was sleep and I shouldnt have to pay for it. So, instead of an extended European adventure, I had purchased a ticket home for the following week. But there were still some surprises left. I called my friend in Paris and she said she was leaving the city for the weekend with her friends and I was free to join them. And so, not knowing anyone save my friend, I did. I carpooled again to France, then metro, bus, and once again I was in a car with 8 strangers. It was only after 4 hours of driving that I decided to ask where we were going. Apparently, my friend's family owned a house on the coast beyond Nantes. I was excited to see the ocean again, and even more excited when I realised her family home had 14 bedrooms. I woke up early the next morning to waves crashing on the shore and salt in the air. It was great getting to know everyone, and we had a great time going on a very spirited run, then cracking oysters off the rocks, and I cooked a nice mexican dinner for the french. We stayed up half the night dancing "le roc" and singing traditional french songs. (They were singing, I was laughing at all the varieties of drinking songs) One of the girls was firm on repeating that she was "a real american girl" with a very thick french accent. In true french fashion, we rolled out of bed early the next morning to walk to mass, and listen to perhaps the worst cantor ever. It was one of those churches where you weren't sure if you had accidentally stumbled upon a funeral because everyone was old and decript and the priest has a slightly mournful look.
We returned to Paris, I with a few more Parisien friends, and they with a good earful of an American accent. I stayed with my friend a few more days in her cozy apartment under the shadow of the Eifel Tower. As some of you might know, I requested a scavenger hunt for my short time in Paris, since I had no real objective. This forced me to talk to people and encouraged such strange behavior as a headstand at Sacre-Coeur, chasing pigeons in Le Jardin de Tullieries, or drinking a Heineken on the Pont Alexandre III at 10 am. I did most of these on the morning before I left and was literally running from place to place. My last destination was the Maison de Balzac to sit in the writer's chair. I talked my way into the house for free, and then found some lovely American women to take my picture. At that point, I was unwilling to cross the velvet rope, and they were discouraging the idea as well.
Home Again, home again
And then I was on a plane home, back to the US, and I didnt know what to do with myself. My first thought was drinking, but that was dampened by the fact that my airlines of choice no longer offered free booze on international flights. It wasnt a good time to sleep, and I soon finished the book my mother had sent me in Africa. A poorly thought out choice of stories from children in Africa from the Oprah Book Club list. Nothing makes you want to cut your heart out faster, and certainly not a healthy read while in the reality of itall. But thanks for the present anyway mom. So I lost myself to that little video screen in front of my face and caught up on 7 hours of movies that I had never heard of. And soon enough, with a speedy tail wind, the plane touched down in DC. As anyone is welcomed to America, I stood in a long line waiting for the hopeful first words spoken to me on US soil--"Next".
I was embraced by my teary eyed parents and bombarded with questions, as to be expected. And after a short delay in the hometown, I have been traveling the East Coast since. So, I am glad to be seeing everyone again and hearing about all those delightful points of life which I have missed over these two years. So, in conclusion, thank you for your support--letters, prayers, music, and whatnot--while I was away, and I hope to see you soon.
Best regards,
Virginia/Va/Van
Gather Round the Stone
Dearly Beloved,
We are gathered here, today, in this email, to celebrate a momentous
occasion. What that occasion may be, I have yet to discern, other
than to congratulate myself on not spending another four months
without writing you all. I hope this correspondence finds you all
healthy, happy, and with a sense of twitterpation in the on-coming
Spring (well, for most of you).
As for events that have happened in my life over the past months, you
can read the break down of the stories.
For the Love of Basketball
I've been coaching girls at the high school in basketball for the past
year. There are several things wrong with me being a high school
basketball coach here. First, I've pretty much hated playing the game
since I quit the team almost 10 years ago. Secondly, I take sports
very--very seriously. Thirdly, I like to win. What this adds up to
is that in a place where everything is compromised by what one wants
to do in the moment rather than a long term dedication, and the basics
of working with teenage girls, I become very angry.
It turns out that I have no idea how to coach girls, especially here,
because I go too easy and they do whatever they want and no one shows
up, or I get tough and they get scared and no one shows up. So for
the past month before our first real game, no one has showed up.
Finally, the city sports authority gets its act together and on
Wednesday they tell me that we have a game on Saturday which leaves 2
days for practice. No one showed up.
We went to the game and half the girls didn't even know the rules. My
assistant coach who was supposed to translate my directions decided
that she knew more about basketball than I did and would tell them
something completely different. We lost---horribly. I was angry
enough not to say a word to any of them.
And then the boys played. The boys have been pretty much coaching
themselves because I told them that I had to help the girls. The boys
put themselves together in a team, worked out how to substitute
themselves, and led themselves to an awesome victory.
So all of this brought to my mind what everyone says here: girls are
just silly. Which makes me more mad. So I spent a few days thinking
about it and decided that I had to be mad at the girls or else I would
agree with what everyone else chooses to believe implicitly.
Thankfully, I have a very thoughtful student who is able to explain
the complexities of Ethiopian social dynamics and teaches me not to
give up hope. Then that very same student bombed her oral
presentation in my class. Grrrr
And the Fight
After the girls got bumped out of the citywide tournament, I started
to help the boys at their games. Their championship game for the
sub-city was a very tough loss going into double overtime and losing
by 2 points. There were many other students who came to the game to
support them, and as always in these kinds of games, emotions run very
high. So while I was at the scoring table clearing up the end-of-game
paperwork, I see one of my male students shouting his head off in a
rage at a student from another school. Mind you, he's not a player.
Then I see him pick up a random 2 by 4 that happens to be laying
around. Then I step in. I yell at him to put down the wood. He
does. Still angry. He picks up a large rock. This time I grab his
hand. He yells "get off." I pull his around so its crossed over his
neck and I'm now at his back. He, standing several centimeters taller
than me, leans over so my feet are off the ground. Some how I get
them back on the ground and the coach from the other team shouts to me
"Miss, let me handle it." I burst back "He's my student." I put the
kid in a headlock and drag him out of the school compound. After 10
minutes of cooling off, my student comes back to me and apologizes.
Fortunately or unfortunately, there were several other students who
were witnesses to this. As if I didn't have a reputation in the
school before, now its certainly gone around that I know how to fight.
I think the rumours that I'm ex-military or CIA have sprung back up.
It Ain't Easy Being Vegan
For almost two months now, I have adhered to the Ethiopian Orthodox
Lenten fast. Now, those of you educated in the practices of Lent may
question: 2 months? Yes, for some reason the Orthodox church has
decided that a measly 40 days is not good enough to satisfy the Lord
and his stint in the desert, and so they command that all good
Christians must pay penance since some time in early February. This
fasting is no weak Western-ideology fasting in which we only give up
meat on Fridays and think about some other vice or indulgence that we
take on too much at other times of the year. No, no. Here, this is
God's country and here we do God's fasting. As the rules go:
1) No eating before 3 PM. (the hour Jesus died) Monday- Friday
2) No drinking before 3 PM. Monday- Friday
3) Saturday and Sunday no eating or drinking before 10 am. (Don't know why)
4) No alcohol.
5) No cursing.
6) No sex ( I don't think there are so many children born between the
months of November and January and yet the population growth is still
soaring)
7) And absolutely no eating of products of animals.
The last one seems to be the hard one for me. As it goes, we get
pretty much a monthly donation of cheese. Like nice cheese. Good
cheddar, Havarti, Smoked Gouda, and various others, so our fridge
pretty much looks like a cheese box. We don't eat meat very often,
but we do have several volunteers who like to bake as well as make
nice creamy soups and other items delicious in nature.
Now I've fought my way through all of this, but currently there is a
sugar shortage. As in, I cant find any d*** sugar. Anywhere. Even
off-market stuff is really hard to find. I spent 2 freakin hours last
week to get 2 kilos. So, at the end of the day, when I'm exhausted, I
can barely keep my eyes open and I still have to grade papers, I can't
even put honey in my tea or coffee. And so it is bitter. And so am
I.
But these are frustrations I'm letting out in an email so you get the
picture. I've tried to give up complaining as well and not talk about
the fasting too much because that's not the point and I realise its my
own choice. But to give you a further idea, I now understand why no
one does anything here. It is really hard to move, to think, or to
feel proper in any sense when you don't eat for most of the day, for
weeks on end. And these are just the standard rules. For the "real
Christians" they eat almost nothing. And so they do almost nothing.
I would not include this fast in any country that wants to be
productive in any way. Good thing that's not a concern here.
Madame Van
And for the final story, I get to tell of a little indiscretion on the
part of some of my favorite female students. The other volunteers
joke that I have a "Van Club." There are some number of students who
hang around a lot, have come to the house, and I've taken out to
places around the city. The majority are girls. I am very proud that
these girls are the more assertive, self-confident, and determined
girls in the school. What this also means is they stand out a bit
more. And perhaps to some in authority, have a bit too much
confidence, especially when it comes to the male students.
Last week I was called down to talk with the coordinator of the
school. He had a list of students in front of him. A list of couples
to be exact, that were supposedly dating. Mind you, dating is
strictly not allowed in the school. Very strictly. Of the six
couples listed, 5 of the girls he knew were particularly close to me.
And so, I was told to "straighten them out." This list came about
because a teacher supposedly caught one of the girls and a boy kissing
in the hallway. *Shocking*
So I went on my fact finding mission. One by one, I pulled the girls
aside to talk to them about their alleged relationship. Of course, I
had already talked to a few of them before. Being American, I don't
care about dating in high school. I just care that they don't get in
trouble shortly before the Grade 12 National Exams. The conversation
ended up going something like this:
Me: So, you're on a list.
Student: What list?
Me: The bad list.
Student: I didn't do it.
Me: What didn't you do?
Student: Whatever that list says I did.
Me: Are you dating?
Student: *laughs* No.
Me: Are you sure?
Student: Why would I not be sure?
Me: Are you interested in dating?
Student: No.
Me: What about kissing?
Student: Van, stop it.
Me: So you havent been kissing, touching, talking, or doing anything
else inappropriately with a boy?
Student: That's a bad list.
So this was probably the most PG relationship conversation I'll ever
have with an 18 year old. They all said they just are friends, find
better friends in the guys, or sit next to a guy in class and for some
reason have been found guilty. No relationships. Even the girl
supposedly kissing said the guy leaned down to kiss her on the cheek
(acceptable greeting) and because he is very tall and she is very
short it could have looked otherwise. The guy said this as well and
got very upset at the accusation.
My talk with these girls ended up being enlightening in another way.
I might have expressed this before, but there are no female teachers
at the high school. In fact, for the older students who have been at
Don Bosco their entire school career, they have never had a female
teacher, save one foreigner who showed up last year. Apparently, the
all male administration doesn't find a problem with this, but it comes
to light that there is a problem when a situation like this occurs,
and the female students have been overtly blamed for inappropriate
relationships and the male students are just pawns to their games. I'm
still very proud of these girls, maybe even moreso now.
Conclusion
I hope in some way this has been entertaining and not just clutter in
your inbox. As my dad says, "I'm short," which means I'm on a
countable number of days now in Ethiopia. I'll try to press out a few
more emails in that time to round of the experience for you as well as
myself.
Best,
Virginia/Van/Va
We are gathered here, today, in this email, to celebrate a momentous
occasion. What that occasion may be, I have yet to discern, other
than to congratulate myself on not spending another four months
without writing you all. I hope this correspondence finds you all
healthy, happy, and with a sense of twitterpation in the on-coming
Spring (well, for most of you).
As for events that have happened in my life over the past months, you
can read the break down of the stories.
For the Love of Basketball
I've been coaching girls at the high school in basketball for the past
year. There are several things wrong with me being a high school
basketball coach here. First, I've pretty much hated playing the game
since I quit the team almost 10 years ago. Secondly, I take sports
very--very seriously. Thirdly, I like to win. What this adds up to
is that in a place where everything is compromised by what one wants
to do in the moment rather than a long term dedication, and the basics
of working with teenage girls, I become very angry.
It turns out that I have no idea how to coach girls, especially here,
because I go too easy and they do whatever they want and no one shows
up, or I get tough and they get scared and no one shows up. So for
the past month before our first real game, no one has showed up.
Finally, the city sports authority gets its act together and on
Wednesday they tell me that we have a game on Saturday which leaves 2
days for practice. No one showed up.
We went to the game and half the girls didn't even know the rules. My
assistant coach who was supposed to translate my directions decided
that she knew more about basketball than I did and would tell them
something completely different. We lost---horribly. I was angry
enough not to say a word to any of them.
And then the boys played. The boys have been pretty much coaching
themselves because I told them that I had to help the girls. The boys
put themselves together in a team, worked out how to substitute
themselves, and led themselves to an awesome victory.
So all of this brought to my mind what everyone says here: girls are
just silly. Which makes me more mad. So I spent a few days thinking
about it and decided that I had to be mad at the girls or else I would
agree with what everyone else chooses to believe implicitly.
Thankfully, I have a very thoughtful student who is able to explain
the complexities of Ethiopian social dynamics and teaches me not to
give up hope. Then that very same student bombed her oral
presentation in my class. Grrrr
And the Fight
After the girls got bumped out of the citywide tournament, I started
to help the boys at their games. Their championship game for the
sub-city was a very tough loss going into double overtime and losing
by 2 points. There were many other students who came to the game to
support them, and as always in these kinds of games, emotions run very
high. So while I was at the scoring table clearing up the end-of-game
paperwork, I see one of my male students shouting his head off in a
rage at a student from another school. Mind you, he's not a player.
Then I see him pick up a random 2 by 4 that happens to be laying
around. Then I step in. I yell at him to put down the wood. He
does. Still angry. He picks up a large rock. This time I grab his
hand. He yells "get off." I pull his around so its crossed over his
neck and I'm now at his back. He, standing several centimeters taller
than me, leans over so my feet are off the ground. Some how I get
them back on the ground and the coach from the other team shouts to me
"Miss, let me handle it." I burst back "He's my student." I put the
kid in a headlock and drag him out of the school compound. After 10
minutes of cooling off, my student comes back to me and apologizes.
Fortunately or unfortunately, there were several other students who
were witnesses to this. As if I didn't have a reputation in the
school before, now its certainly gone around that I know how to fight.
I think the rumours that I'm ex-military or CIA have sprung back up.
It Ain't Easy Being Vegan
For almost two months now, I have adhered to the Ethiopian Orthodox
Lenten fast. Now, those of you educated in the practices of Lent may
question: 2 months? Yes, for some reason the Orthodox church has
decided that a measly 40 days is not good enough to satisfy the Lord
and his stint in the desert, and so they command that all good
Christians must pay penance since some time in early February. This
fasting is no weak Western-ideology fasting in which we only give up
meat on Fridays and think about some other vice or indulgence that we
take on too much at other times of the year. No, no. Here, this is
God's country and here we do God's fasting. As the rules go:
1) No eating before 3 PM. (the hour Jesus died) Monday- Friday
2) No drinking before 3 PM. Monday- Friday
3) Saturday and Sunday no eating or drinking before 10 am. (Don't know why)
4) No alcohol.
5) No cursing.
6) No sex ( I don't think there are so many children born between the
months of November and January and yet the population growth is still
soaring)
7) And absolutely no eating of products of animals.
The last one seems to be the hard one for me. As it goes, we get
pretty much a monthly donation of cheese. Like nice cheese. Good
cheddar, Havarti, Smoked Gouda, and various others, so our fridge
pretty much looks like a cheese box. We don't eat meat very often,
but we do have several volunteers who like to bake as well as make
nice creamy soups and other items delicious in nature.
Now I've fought my way through all of this, but currently there is a
sugar shortage. As in, I cant find any d*** sugar. Anywhere. Even
off-market stuff is really hard to find. I spent 2 freakin hours last
week to get 2 kilos. So, at the end of the day, when I'm exhausted, I
can barely keep my eyes open and I still have to grade papers, I can't
even put honey in my tea or coffee. And so it is bitter. And so am
I.
But these are frustrations I'm letting out in an email so you get the
picture. I've tried to give up complaining as well and not talk about
the fasting too much because that's not the point and I realise its my
own choice. But to give you a further idea, I now understand why no
one does anything here. It is really hard to move, to think, or to
feel proper in any sense when you don't eat for most of the day, for
weeks on end. And these are just the standard rules. For the "real
Christians" they eat almost nothing. And so they do almost nothing.
I would not include this fast in any country that wants to be
productive in any way. Good thing that's not a concern here.
Madame Van
And for the final story, I get to tell of a little indiscretion on the
part of some of my favorite female students. The other volunteers
joke that I have a "Van Club." There are some number of students who
hang around a lot, have come to the house, and I've taken out to
places around the city. The majority are girls. I am very proud that
these girls are the more assertive, self-confident, and determined
girls in the school. What this also means is they stand out a bit
more. And perhaps to some in authority, have a bit too much
confidence, especially when it comes to the male students.
Last week I was called down to talk with the coordinator of the
school. He had a list of students in front of him. A list of couples
to be exact, that were supposedly dating. Mind you, dating is
strictly not allowed in the school. Very strictly. Of the six
couples listed, 5 of the girls he knew were particularly close to me.
And so, I was told to "straighten them out." This list came about
because a teacher supposedly caught one of the girls and a boy kissing
in the hallway. *Shocking*
So I went on my fact finding mission. One by one, I pulled the girls
aside to talk to them about their alleged relationship. Of course, I
had already talked to a few of them before. Being American, I don't
care about dating in high school. I just care that they don't get in
trouble shortly before the Grade 12 National Exams. The conversation
ended up going something like this:
Me: So, you're on a list.
Student: What list?
Me: The bad list.
Student: I didn't do it.
Me: What didn't you do?
Student: Whatever that list says I did.
Me: Are you dating?
Student: *laughs* No.
Me: Are you sure?
Student: Why would I not be sure?
Me: Are you interested in dating?
Student: No.
Me: What about kissing?
Student: Van, stop it.
Me: So you havent been kissing, touching, talking, or doing anything
else inappropriately with a boy?
Student: That's a bad list.
So this was probably the most PG relationship conversation I'll ever
have with an 18 year old. They all said they just are friends, find
better friends in the guys, or sit next to a guy in class and for some
reason have been found guilty. No relationships. Even the girl
supposedly kissing said the guy leaned down to kiss her on the cheek
(acceptable greeting) and because he is very tall and she is very
short it could have looked otherwise. The guy said this as well and
got very upset at the accusation.
My talk with these girls ended up being enlightening in another way.
I might have expressed this before, but there are no female teachers
at the high school. In fact, for the older students who have been at
Don Bosco their entire school career, they have never had a female
teacher, save one foreigner who showed up last year. Apparently, the
all male administration doesn't find a problem with this, but it comes
to light that there is a problem when a situation like this occurs,
and the female students have been overtly blamed for inappropriate
relationships and the male students are just pawns to their games. I'm
still very proud of these girls, maybe even moreso now.
Conclusion
I hope in some way this has been entertaining and not just clutter in
your inbox. As my dad says, "I'm short," which means I'm on a
countable number of days now in Ethiopia. I'll try to press out a few
more emails in that time to round of the experience for you as well as
myself.
Best,
Virginia/Van/Va
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
