Well Said

As a cultural ambassador I often find that it is important to identify commonalities. Differences are dividing and it becomes easy to fall into the us/them trap. Regardless of our nationality or skin color or geographical address we are all still part of the human race. We have fears and frustrations, struggles and triumphs, dreams and hopes. Our access to resources may be different, but that doesn’t mean our desires are. We all want to feel safe. We all want to have a full belly. We all want happiness.

The current economic crisis in the States has not gone unnoticed here. Although on different scales, it has been a source of commonality that resonates with my Ethiopian friends. I love how my friend, Tadeseh, so eloquently described our similar situation…. “poorness has come to our pockets!” Well said, Tadeseh!

Peeps On Tour

I’ve come to the conclusion that the American way of celebrating certain holidays must be seen as absolutely ridiculous to the rest of the world…and completely unexplainable. How does one explain leaving a plate of cookies for Santa on Christmas Eve or hunting for Easter eggs presumably laid by a bunny? If anyone could help me out, I’d sure appreciate it. In the meantime, I continue to try to share some of the nuances of our culture…as silly as they are. This year, I introduced PEEPS…the nasty, sugary, bright-yellow candy chicks that make their appearance one time a year. Fortunately my group of kiddos could care less about the significance (or really the insignificance) of this typical Easter candy. They simply inhaled their chick and asked for more.

When I’ve asked about what I consider to be an unusual Ethiopian tradition, I am simply told “its culture” and nothing more. Perhaps when it comes to Santa Claus, the Easter bunny, the tooth fairy, Valentine’s Day, and trick-or-treat I should adopt the same strategy. There are just some things that warrant no further explanation.

Preventing “African Foot”

When I first met my friend and fellow PCV, Eden, I vividly remember thinking “I must do everything within my power to keep my feet from looking like his!!” Eden had already been living in Africa for a year and his feet had taken a beaten. Dry heat, dirt roads, limited water, and sandals everyday do not lead to feet as soft (or even as clean) as a baby’s bottom. Megan and I promptly coined this phenomenon the “African foot” and set out to design a prevention program. As a physical therapist there is nothing that I hate more than nasty feet…especially if they’re my own!

Despite pumice stones, foot files and graters, extra thick lotion, plastic bags, and a nailbrush it’s amazing how quickly I can begin to lose the battle. I suspect that despite my daily “anti-African foot” routine, I will carry a bit of Ethiopian soil and grime in the soles of my feet long after I no longer call this place home.





When a group of us gets together a “foot program” is always on the agenda. There is nothing better than the combination of a cup of cocoa, good conversation (in English!), and a pedi program.

Potty Training

I never dreamed I would move to Ethiopia and write a blog post on the joys of potty training. But, these pictures are just too cute to pass up. Ava, at the ripe old age of 9 MONTHS, is not quite sure what to make of all this. She’s more interested in exploring her environment via placing anything and everything in her mouth, than taking care of business on the pot….but who am I to interfere. I just keep my mouth shut and do my best to serve as photographer in residence.

Given that diapers are a luxury here (and aren’t even sold in my town), I can understand Genet’s desire to get this potty training show on the road.

I can just hear Ava thinking… “You want me to do what?!”

It’s safe to say she’s had enough of this experiment!

A Veggie-tale

Oh what I wouldn’t give for the Jolly Green Giant to pay me a visit. I never dreamed I would CRAVE vegetables. I was the kid who hated veggies. I’d pick mushrooms off the pizza, swallow peas whole so as to avoid my tongue coming into contact with their nasty taste, turn my nose up at brussels sprouts, and only eat cauliflower if it was smothered in cheese. The pinnacle of my anti-veggie stand came when I proudly announced at the dinner table one evening, that I would rather eat a night crawler than another bite of the veggie du jour. Of course my bluff was called and my brother was promptly sent outdoors to find said night crawler. Given that my Dad was an avid (borderline fanatic) fisherman, night crawlers were always on hand and within minutes a long, fat, juicy night crawler was baiting my fork. I sat at the table long after the family was done with dinner that evening, debating the potential taste of night crawler versus the known nasty taste of the veggie. In the end, the veggie proved more palatable.

Fast forward some 20 odd years and here I sit lamenting the fact that my veggie selection is so limited. I dream about broccoli, crave a cuc, wax poetic on the attributes of zucchini and would give my right arm for a bunch of green beans. I finally decided to take matters into my own hands. I’ve proven to have quite the green thumb when it comes to flowers, but would my luck hold for veggies? I sent an urgent email home with a request for seeds and solicited help from the troops on my compound to prepare the soil. I even personally walked the fields collecting cow poop by hand (desperate times call for desperate measures!). I started the seeds in small pots, celebrated when the first glimpse of green peeked above the soil, carefully transplanted, and faithfully watered. The folks on my compound even began referring to my zucchini, yellow squash, and cucumber plants as “Kristi’s kids”. After weeks of waiting (and salivating), I wound up with ONE yellow squash! Talk about a crushing blow both to my ego and menu. I’m just hoping that my failure is due more to conditions (perhaps zucchinis do not find the high altitude, scorching sun, and cool nights suitable) than my gardening prowess.

Although I’m resigned to the fact that cucs, zucchini and squash aren’t going to grace my dinner plate anytime soon, I am wondering how sautéed zinnias and daisies might taste over a bed of rice? They find the Ethiopian climate extremely suitable and are growing in abundance!

Like a proud parent, I just had to take a picture of my beautiful squash.
Cleome is my new favorite flower and I have to thank my Cherry St. neighbor, Mary, for introducing me to them. They have grown extremely well on Ethiopian soil!

Bye, Bye Burdie!

If there is one thing I can say about Peace Corps it is that the medical support is amazing. When we head out to site we are armed with a medical manual chock full of interesting tidbits about diseases that we hope never to contract and a kit full of medications, ointments and other paraphernalia to treat a host of ailments…both the mundane and the exotic. I remember when I first met our medical officer, Burdett (whom we affectionately call “Burdie”), I greeted her with a smile and a “you won’t hear much from me, I’m as healthy as a horse!” Little did I know that Burdett and I would get to know each other so well. When I woke in the middle of the night with what eventually proved to be my gallbladder acting up, she was the cheery voice on the other end of the line. She has been with us since the beginning…a voice of reason, an empathetic ear, and a heart of understanding. She encourages, she treats, she problem-solves, and most importantly she cares. As she prepares for her next journey, we prepare to survive without her. I’m not sure it is possible! Burdie…you will be greatly missed!

For whatever reason, a group of us all happened to be in Addis at the same time. A perfect time for an impromptu going away party for Burdett!

Burdie and Me.