Wednesday, January 20, 2010

The 3-Month Drought Has Ended - I'm Back

January 10, 2010 – Ethiopia gets an extra dose of Mohan/Fewel!

Yikes! I realize that I have completely dropped the ball on this blog and for the painstaking three months that I left you with no word (except through my mom, how embarrassing) of my well-being and goings on, I sincerely apologize. The more time that went by, the harder it was to sit down and write. Unfortunately, I can’t play the “I was so busy” card since I think you will all see through that, so I’ll just say I’m sorry. So I must first begin, with further embarrassment, by updating my birthday/holiday wishes.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO:
Laura!! (September 28) I am sooooo sorry I did not include you last time, Kak. But thanks for following my blog so religiously. I adore you.
Nanny!! (November 8)
Melissa/Protégé!! (November 10)
Mama!! (November 27) – you were here so you got it in person, but still
Joey!! (November 29)
Chelsea/Wife!! (December 3) – for whom I finally managed to have buffalo wings sent out (I attempted last year, the day that I left for Ethiopia, but no luck)

Other notable events:
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! No celebrations here. I watched a movie and washed my underwear.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!! Mine was an enormous success as I had my mama and sister here with me
BONNIE’S ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY IN ETHIOPIA!!!!! (December 4) Both a point of accomplishment and a wake-up call to get my butt in gear before the next year flies by too!
MERRY CHRISTMAS!! Also a delightful event here, ironically hosted by my Jewish friend, Marina :)
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! I wish you all a very happy and fulfilling 2010 (and success with your resolutions)
HAPPY ETHIOPIAN CHRISTMAS!! (January 7) It’s still going on and I can’t eat any more doro wat (spicy chicken dish)!
And a BIG congratulations to my darling cousins, Melissa, Maura, and Catherine, for completing their first semester of college! I am so proud of you guys. Spring Break 2010: Ethiopia? :)


Phew! I think doing all of that was incentive enough for me to keep up-to-date on my blog from now on. Also, my mom totally showing me up by posting on Facebook like 5 albums of photos from their trip. But seriously, thanks for that mama! That’s really the most eventful thing that’s happened anyway, so let me stop dragging my feet (fingertips?) and fill you in. I am going to leave out a lot of the details (places we visited and such) and give more of a reflection on the visit. I’ve asked mom and Maureen to write a little something for my blog and hopefully then can give more of that information.

So Mom and Maureen arrived in mid-November and the weeks leading up to their arrival were filled with me frantically trying to prepare for them. I had just moved into my new house (dubbed “The Villa” by my supervisor and head of the Dilla Health Office) and was seriously lacking furniture to fill the place. In addition to all the empty space making me feel even lonelier than normal life does on its own, I really wanted to make a home in which my family would feel comfortable. You all have met my sister, Maureen, right? But seriously, Mo was a trooper and you all would have been shocked and proud (no offense, sister). More on that later….


So my ladies arrived at around 7:30pm on a Thursday evening and upon seeing their shining albeit jet-lagged faces, I began jumping up and down whilst running to meet them at the end of the rope line. Let’s just say my rugby skills came in handy. The cheesy movie moment culminated in a tearful, dramatic, attention-getting, three-way hug filled with kisses. I think even Mom and Mo were kissing each other as if they hadn’t just spent two days on an airplane together. I could hear G in the back of my head saying, “Ya buncha Lesbos”. We finally broke away when Mom said, “Let me look at you!” and after a few seconds they both agreed, “You look the same.” How anti-climactic.

Soon we were out in the parking lot and Mama and Mo had their first “Wow, Bonnie is a badass” moment as I negotiated (in Amharic) our taxi driver down to 70 Birr from his 100 Birr initial offer. Sorry for the language, kiddies. All three scrunched in the back seat (Maureen with her head practically out the window with curiosity and excitement), and we were on our way to the Ras Hotel, where Peace Corps always puts us volunteers up when we have to come to Addis for meetings or medical stuff. It was interesting seeing their reaction to the hotel we all consider “luxurious” since it has a TV with BBC and a bathroom in the room with a toilet and (sometimes) hot shower. We barely even notice the musty carpets, moldy ceilings, and flooding bathroom – a result of no shower curtains. They did, however, and I found it thoroughly entertaining. I remember those days, although they feel an eternity ago. After a (for me at least) delicious meal with some local beers, we retired for the night.

The following day we went to the Peace Corps office to show them around then visited the National Museum. Here we got to see a replica of the famous “Lucy” since the real one is in the States, and some other cultural stuff. We were guilted into using a remarkably unintelligible guide (interesting to hire a man with a lisp for a job entirely dependent on clear communication), who gave Maureen her first marriage proposal. I might have been offended at his preferences if I had not had nearly a year of such advances. But not to worry, our taxi driver back to the hotel made it clear that he would accept any of the three of us as his new wife so that he could go to America. What a doll.

The first few days were a challenge for all of us. Mom was having a really difficult time kicking her jet lag and both she and Maureen were having the natural reactions expected on a first visit to sub-Saharan Africa, or any developing country for that matter. I struggled as I was forced to relive all of those initial reactions and emotions and to confront the degree to which I had become desensitized to it all. When a skinny woman in rags carrying a painfully malnourished child came to the window of our taxi, Maureen had to resist her every impulse to give the woman money while my first reaction was to say “God bless you but leave us alone” because I am so tired of being looked at as a source of money. Oh no! Have I already become one of those jaded aid workers who has hardened themselves to everything around them? Reflecting on it now, I am confident that I have not.

There is a certain element of separation that is required in order to survive here. If I was walking around weeping all the time because of all the poverty and disease, I wouldn’t be very effective and most likely would have been on a flight home, months ago. And while there are certain things and behaviors that I have come to accept and consider as normal, there are also things that no degree of adaptation will allow me to excuse or accept. A man should not push a woman to the ground in order to get onto a crowded bus, no matter if he is poor, stressed, and frustrated that he cannot provide for his family. And just because a child has nothing does not mean that a feeding program that is supposed to provide children with an oasis can do the bare minimum and say “Oh, well. That’s life” when there is not enough food to feed all of the children for a week straight.

So anyway, this was a constant battle for me throughout the trip: wanting my family to be happy and comfortable yet dealing with these daily frustrations of being a white foreigner in a very poor African country. When they were upset, I was upset. It just made fresh all of the frustrations and complaints I have about this country that I try my best to suppress in favor of the good and positive things. And what made reliving all of these things with them more difficult, was knowing that they got to leave at the end and I still had a year more of this. After they did leave, I had a very difficult time. It was so nice to have company with me every day for three weeks: to wake up together, eat every meal together, and travel together. When they left, it was an intense loneliness that I hadn’t experienced before then. However, after a few weeks, I got back into my normal routine and that was a relief. As happy as I was to have them here and to see my life, the time they were here wasn’t “real life.”

Surviving here is by creating routine and making things feel as comfortable as possible. I know how to be in my town, as a volunteer, with people who know me. I didn’t know how to be a tourist. My daily life is trying to convince people that I am not a tourist, and suddenly I was. My daily dialogue in my town has been “My name is not ‘you you you’ or ‘farenji’, it’s Benny. I eat your food, I speak your language, I get from place to place by my feet, just like you. Please treat me like a person.” And the people of Dilla understand that now. But now I was in new places, getting around in a private, albeit very old, SUV and getting tourist (really, white) prices. I was really bothered by the general feeling of being taken advantage of. I know that this is the nature of tourism throughout the world but a big part of my identity here is breaking those stereotypes that all white people are rich and here to give handouts; which was why it was such a relief to get back to my town and have my mom and sister see my “real” life.

Our first night in Dilla, I invited our driver and new friend, Johannes, to stay at my home for the night. We decided to make him some “farenji” food and settled on Chinese: spring rolls, beef lo mein, and egg fried rice. To purchase the needed ingredients, I threw my loved ones right into the belly of the beast with a trip to the market. Ask any Peace Corps Volunteer and I am sure you will find that trips to the market are the most dreaded of necessary activities for life. But we survived, I got good prices, and we celebrated our success by paying a little boy to go buy us a kilo of flour. A job well done. The food was delicious and abundant, although I did acquire some semi-serious grease burns on my legs from hastily dropping a spring roll into a pan of hot oil cooking on the ground. I’ve asked if there is a work for “klutz” in Amharic and have been assured there is not.

The rest of the week was spent relaxing, enjoying each other’s company, making introductions to local friends and work people, and preparing for Thanksgiving. The guests began arriving on Wednesday and we put them straight to work, peeling, chopping, baking, menamen, menamen (that’s the Ethiopian equivalent for et cetera – “Good morning! How are you? Are you fine? Menamen, menamen”). Thursday morning, Thanksgiving Day, I had to teach English and Mama and Karen were kind enough to accompany me. The class was so excited to have them there and doted on them like loyal servants. “You have no chair! Here, take mine. I will stand.” Who are these children and what have they done with my students?? Mama and Karen introduced themselves, at the beckoning of the class, and then we went over our vocabulary words. Not very exciting but Mama got to see me in action, which was fun.

When we returned home, all of the chores I had assigned to my guests had been completed! We put out the hor duerves (cheese, crackers, salami, carrots, ranch dressing, and some turkey jerky bites Chris brought) and began cooking the big feast. The men were in charge of manning the charcoal stove on which we cooked the pot roast while the women-folk prepared mashed sweet and regular potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffing, vegetarian gravy, cranberry sauce and mac’n’cheese. The cornbread, pumpkin pie, and strawberry shortcake were baked the night before (in my dutch oven – a big pot and tuna fish cans). There was so much food and everything turned out incredibly delicious, especially for being cooked on 2 cheap kerosene stoves. As we ate, everyone went around and said what they were thankful for. It was really lovely until Jordan dropped the bomb that he was leaving Peace Corps to go back home and marry his fiancé. We were all so happy for him but really saddened by the news. He is just such a warm, funny, and kind person and brought so much to our group.

Even still, the holiday was really wonderful and I was so happy to share it with my mom and sister. I wasn’t the only one: all my friends said how nice it was to have a mom there for Thanksgiving. In fact, many of them were calling her “Mama” – her honorary title for the entire trip. I even had one of my best friends, Misrach, stop by and try some Thanksgiving food! She really liked it but her neighbor who she brought said it was too sweet. Heartbreaking – go back to your enjera. So Thanksgiving night, we had a big sleepover with 9 bodies squeezed together on my three twin-size mattresses (pieces of foam). The next morning, we made potato pancakes from leftovers and then everyone headed back to their towns.

The following day, we left Dilla to spend some time in Awassa for John’s birthday. I won’t get into the details of finding a hotel and then our attempt to have pizza afterwards – I think Mama will tell that part nicely. {Mama, here: The oft-touted sentiment about Awassa was its reputation as Ethiopia's most modern city with a "western" feel and gorgeous landscape of mountains and its beautiful Lake Awassa. Modern, until women try to book and share a hotel room for a couple of evenings without a man. Although called Pat Benatar from time to time by my brother John, it is the first time I have ever been accused of having a lesbian relationship with my daughter Maureen. Three hotels later, we were finally able to get a hotel to rent us two rooms for this group of 4 women - at a hefty price, I might add. Bonnie's room came complete with a toilet bowl missing a large chunk of the bowl making it useless. Upset, but somewhat triumphant we headed to the best pizza place in Ethiopia (the Volunteers sometimes need a break from the injera and wat, and when available, satisfy their cravings of home). As is common in Ethiopia, rather than tell us that the pizza guy wasn't currently working, they kept promising the pizza would be ready any minute now.....2.5 hours later.... after Bonnie went searching for this "elusive" pizza cook...there was no pizza cook. When a burst of smoke emerged from an outdoor oven, we realized he was finally here and we had been sitting (and drinking beer) for hours waiting. Bonnie, in beautiful and strong Amharic, blasted anyone who would listen and managed to get our pizzas made and at no charge. Although upset, she was proud that she actually managed to get the pizzas for free - unheard of in Ethiopia, although common in this country. It was a tough day, particularly for Bonnie since she had raved about beautiful Awassa. Things could only improve...and they did.... ]

But we did have a nice walk by Lake Awassa to Monkey Park where we relaxed lakeside with sodas and books. The only minor hiccup was when a monkey tried to take off with Maureen’s purse – he literally had it in hand and was rummaging through, completely undeterred by our shouts and frantic arm-thrashing, books in hand. He finally scurried off when I jumped out of my chair and charged. That night we had dinner at this lovely roof-top bar and restaurant where we toasted Poppa with a nip of Jameson on the 4-year anniversary of his death and were rewarded with a rainbow which stretched across the sky after a brief rain. Then to pick things up a bit, we toasted Joey with our jumbo draft beers on his 24th birthday.

For our last day in Addis, we went to see a movie (Old Dogs, starring Robin Williams and John Travolta) at the Edna Mall movie theater. The movie was cute and considering the ticking clock to their departure and my subsequent depression, a better choice than the alternatives 2012 or some Renee Zellweger horror flick. For dinner, we returned to the Thai restaurant that we had dined at previously in the trip because of its delicious food (no “for Ethiopia” disclaimer included!) and delightful atmosphere (see your Christmas cards from us). We had a wonderful taxi driver from our hotel to the restaurant, who agreed to come back for us after two hours to bring us to the airport and then after I got Mama and Maureen through security, to drive me back to the hotel. We left our luggage in the trunk for convenience purposes and so were really concerned when 20 minutes after the designated pick-up time, our taxi had still not arrived. When we went outside to stand by the road in case he had forgotten the place, we spotted a taxi parked in the back of the restaurant with a sleeping driver hunched over the wheel. Apparently our wonderful taxi driver came an hour early, when we weren’t watching the driveway, and had actually been waiting for us. Oops.

Our goodbye was sooner than expected as I couldn’t even get in the doors of the airport. We hugged and kissed and began to cry and I mournfully head back to the taxi. Upon entering the taxi and driving away, I began to bawl and the aforementioned wonderful taxi driver pulled me into a one-armed bear hug, kissing my head and running is hand down my face to wipe away the tears. My bawling soon had a hint of laughter to it. To make matters more interesting, the girls went a little overboard with our “last supper” and spent more than we budgeted so Bonnie did not have enough money to pay the wonderful taxi driver. But being wonderful, he allowed me to run up to my room to get more cash, without any argument or collateral. Excuse me sir, can you adopt me?

So I will end my blog with that because I fear that if I attempt to cover any more material, this blog will never go public. Additionally, I think I may have already exceeded the American attention-span for reading and probably only 25% of you have even reached this paragraph. Congratulations and thank you. I promise to write shorter, more frequent entries to avoid such dismal drop-out rates.