Flower Power

What began as a simple desire to have a few flowers to spruce up my porch, turned into a full-blown compound project. Everybody had their hands in the dirt…except for me. I was told in no uncertain terms that my hands were “too soft” and “dirt is dirty”. I eventually convinced them that I had indeed touched dirt before and was more than capable of planting a few seeds! We cleaned old plastic paint cans, used hot nails to melt drainage holes into the bottoms, scoured the area outside the compound for manure, and finally planted seeds of my favorite flower…zinnias.

I was a bit worried that the seeds wouldn’t grow and I would have a compound full of disappointed people, but my worry was unfounded. We had so many flowers that I decided to use some of them as a way to meet and greet my neighbors. Or at least that was my intention until Aselef found out. Her response to my idea, ”No…farenji flowers expensive…we keep.”

So…we have kept ALL the flowers. Our compound is a riot of colors…pinks, oranges, yellows, reds. I still fully intend on using the flowers as a means of meeting my neighbors, but now I will just have to take bouquets. There is always more than one way to skin a cat!

Lions, and Rhinos and Giraffes…oh my!

On safari in Africa…life list item # 248…CHECK! I never dreamed that I would be able to take in a safari while on medivac!!! I found a brochure in the guesthouse that described one-day trips in and around Pretoria. The price seemed reasonable, the website was decent, and when I called, the gentleman was very friendly and seemed like he knew what he was doing. So…I booked it and crossed my fingers that I had chosen well.

On the day of my long awaited for safari, I awoke to a thunderstorm. Now don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love thunderstorms…but was less than thrilled with one on this day. At 8:15am a driver picked me up to shuttle me to the rendezvous point where we joined up with the tour guide and the rest of the group. When you randomly join a group as a solo traveler you never know what to expect, but I was not disappointed. The other 3 women were very welcoming. They were Americans (from Arkansas) working with the NGO--Heifer International. One woman was even a former PC Volunteer. What a small world!

By the time we arrived at Pilanesburg National Park the rain had stopped. The sun stayed hidden, which actually turned out to be the ideal condition for scanning the horizon for wildlife. Within minutes into the park we spotted warthog, 2 large male elephants, a family of hippos, a small herd of zebra, and one lone turtle…methodically making his way across the road. It was so hard to REMAIN IN THE VEHICLE as I desperately wanted to get the perfect photos. My little point and shoot wasn’t quite up to the task (which means I can justify another safari when I have my nice camera!). It is truly amazing to see these creatures roaming free in their natural habitat.

After lunch, we briefly left Pilanesburg for a short trip to a nearby lion park. I’m not sure I understand the full purpose behind these parks, but I believe it has something to do with breeding lions for private game reserves and zoos. Since the big cats were elusive in the national park, it was neat to be able to see them up close and personal here. In fact, we actually got to PLAY with 5 lion cubs. In the States, this would never happen, as it is a lawsuit waiting to happen. These 40+ pound cuties aren’t de-clawed or de-toothed and they play hard. Fortunately most of the time the roughhousing is amongst themselves, but you definitely had to stay on your toes. I interacted with the cubs and took a ton of photos, but I didn’t press my luck. I don’t think PC would have been too pleased with me if I managed to get myself mauled by a lion while on medivac.

In the late afternoon we returned to Pilanesburg to continue our safari. I was excited to spot 6 rhino (it is unbelievable how massive these creatures are) as well as a small herd of giraffe. There is just something amazing about seeing these gangly creatures have room to truly stretch their legs as well as their necks to graze off the treetops rather than a man-made feeder on stilts.

Overall, it was a fabulous day. If a safari isn’t on your life list…add it. It’s an experience that you will never forget.

Look closely and you see a giraffe

Making the Most of It

In between the hospitalizations, the doctor’s appointments, and recuperating, I have managed to have a great deal of fun. Aside from a handful of days, I have felt quite good and more than able to explore and take advantage of being in South Africa.

For those of you not familiar with this part of the world, it appears to be very much like the States. In Pretoria, the lawns are manicured, the roads are paved, the water is drinkable, and electricity is for the most part a constant. There are shopping malls with high-end retailers, cinemas that show new releases (not the bootlegged versions), and yes, even McDonald’s. The primary difference is that everything (and I mean everything) is garnished with loops of barbed constantino wire--crime is such a huge problem here.

So…you may wonder what I’ve been doing for the last 29 days and counting. Here’s a quick summary:

1) Shopped Brooklyn, Hatfield, and Menlyn malls

2) Enrolled in the ‘frequent flier” program at the cinema and have seen the following 11 flicks

a. Juno
b. Step It Up 2-the Streets
c. The Nanny Diaries
d. Rambo (the new one)
e. Street Kings
f. Dan in Real Life
g. Made of Honour
h. Nim’s Island
i. Mad Money
j. I Could Never Be Your Woman
k. The Other Boleyn Girl

3) Eaten as much white meat chicken as I can consume (it’s such a beautiful thing to see packages of already butchered, plucked, hormone-injected chicken. I’m in heaven!)

4) Roamed the weekly arts/craft fair at Hatfield Plaza

5) Played putt-putt golf on a course where the greens were so long we had to send out reconnaissance to find the hole

6) Spent an afternoon curled up with a stack of books/magazines and a yummy coffee at Exclusive Books (as close to Barnes and Nobles as I’ve been in 7 months)

7) Participated in a scrapbooking class

8) Uploaded hundreds of pictures to snapfish from the comfort of my own room on FREE, WIRELESS, HIGH SPEED INTERNET!

9) Had my hair highlighted…purely frivolous, but what the heck

10) Listened to bagpipers at an Irish Pub

11) Sipped on a carmelatte from Gloria Jean’s

12) Went on Safari—stay tuned for more about that!

13) Managed to have my credit card stolen…which has drastically curbed my shopping!

WHEW! I figure it will be a long time before I have the opportunity to enjoy many of these luxuries again so I’m packing as much in as possible. For the sake of my bank account, however, this little excursion needs to come to an end…soon!


Putt-putting with Angie and Jeremy.

One of the many scrumptious meals I’ve consumed. Look at that beautiful white meat chicken!!!

yes, I most certainly had a Big Mac.

New Friends

Just wanted you to meet a few of my new friends. Within hours of arriving at the guesthouse, I had a knock on my door and opened it to find 4 friendly faces who greeted me with “you must be Ethiopia. Welcome!” Truly what I needed….instant friends.

Over the course of the last month, there have been a lot of PCV’s who have come and gone. Whoever finds themselves to be the old-timer is given the job of orienting the newbies. Christina (Zambia; tonsils) took her role seriously and proceeded to show me the ropes. Within a day under her tutelage I knew the best place to purchase yummy deserts, the cheapest movie theatres, the correct soap for the washing machine, and the routes to walk to reach all of the important places (namely the shopping malls). We also developed an introduction shorthand so that any new additions to the group were quickly assimilated. My intro….”hi I’m Kristen…the gallbladder from Ethiopia…this is Jeremy the knee from Zambia….Chris, the horse kick from Botswana, etc”. This experience is kind of like summer camp and a support group rolled into one.

Lately the flow of newly wounded PCV’s has dried up. Only Chris and myself are left at the moment. But, I did hear rumors that someone is joining us tomorrow. Great…I could always use a new friend!



Me and Christina (Zambia)



Angie (Uganda) and I



Jeremy (Zambia) with Me and Angie


New Additions—Chris (Botswana) and Maria (Ethiopia)

My Home Away from Home Away from Home

The Rose Guesthouse has truly become another home away from home—especially since I have lived here for almost a month. I had no idea what to expect with regards to accommodations, but I can definitely say it wasn’t this. This place is absolutely beautiful. It actually feels like a home and when you’ve just returned from having surgery a home is what you want…not a hotel room.

The grounds are beautiful. There are 2 pools (it’s a bit too nippy to be swimming at this time of year) and outside sitting areas with plush couches that are perfect for when you don’t have the energy to do anything, but yet can’t spend one more minute lying in bed.

Each morning breakfast is prepared by either Maria or Angie. For lunch and dinner we can either use the kitchen to prepare our own meals or head out to one of the many nearby restaurants. When dirty clothes pile up, the washer and dryer is free for us to use. I’ve come to the conclusion that this place is almost too nice, and I’m worried that I’m losing my “edge.”

The guesthouse is also in a great location. I am within walking distance of 2 shopping centers, complete with theatres, grocery stores, and restaurants. If I get bored with these 2 venues, I can walk ½ mile and pick up a combi-taxi (public transportation) that will take me to the super-sized mall for 2USD roundtrip. Can’t beat that!

And, you meet the most interesting people here, as the guesthouse isn’t just a place for the “walking wounded”. I’ve met a handful of people from the Brazilian Embassy and a South African man who has immigrated to Australia, but still owns and operates farms here in South Africa as well as in Botswana. I can say that until now I’ve never swapped “farm” stories with someone whose chief issue is ELEPHANTS! Crazy!



The Rose Guest House

Medivac

Life is full of surprises. Mine seems to be overflowing with surprises lately. In late February I had an episode of sharp, unrelenting right-sided abdominal pain. This bought me a 2-week excursion to Addis where I underwent numerous tests (blood work, ultrasound, MRI) and even met with the US Embassy doc. As none of the tests were terribly conclusive, I was then instructed to eat a diet chocked full of fatty foods (truly a hardship) for a period of one week in an attempt to truly challenge my gallbladder. Although they were suspicious of gallbladder dysfunction, nothing seemed to reproduce the pain, and I eventually returned to site.

All seemed to be back to normal until I returned to Addis on April 6 for an all-volunteer inservice training conference. After treating myself to a farenji dinner (i.e. no injera!), I was again hit with another attack. Fortunately, this time I was already in Addis. Our fabulous PCMO paid a house call to the hotel where we were staying and decided that I needed further work-up. This is what bought me an open-ended ticket to South Africa--PC’s regional medivac hub.

And here I sit….still! I’m writing this post on day 29 of my South African “adventure”. I had always wanted to travel to South Africa, but never dreamed that it would be for a tour of Pretoria’s medical institutions! Upon my arrival, I was immediately taken to the offices of one of the area’s leading gastro-enterologists. He subsequently admitted me....definitely not what I was expecting. After 2 days of tests and good hospital food (I’m not joking…it was great!), I was discharged from his service (no gallstones for him to deal with) and referred to a surgeon. The surgeon ordered another battery of tests and it was eventually confirmed by a DISIDA scan that my gallbladder was indeed dysfunctional and causing these episodes of pain. On Tuesday April 22, I had a laparoscopic cholecystectomy and am now 0.4 ounces lighter (just a gross estimate on the weight of a gallbladder) and bear 4 small incisions. My first PC battle scars! I’m now pain free (just a little itching as the incisions heal) and my energy is almost back to normal. My sutures will be taken out on May 6 and I hope to be on a plane bound for Addis by Thursday May 8. What an adventure this has been!

The crazy twist to this saga is that within a week of being in South Africa, another PCV from Ethiopia showed up with the same problems. She, however, was on the fast track due to the fact that she had visible gallstones. She arrived after me, had surgery within 2 days, and has already returned to Addis. We both agreed, however, that we must have missed something in the fine print when signing the papers for PC Ethiopia and are presently lobbying staff to add the following disclaimer: “accepting a PC volunteer position in Ethiopia will likely lead to a cholecystectomy. Anyone partial to retaining their gallbladder should remain stateside.”



PC Medivac Docs—Cedric and Le-Ann have done an excellent job of coordinating my care.



Getting a DISIDA scan.

St. Georgies' Day Celebration

For days the ladies on the compound have been scurrying around in a twitter. I have watched vast quantities of produce and staples enter the compound only to be followed by the sounds of chopping, grinding, and mixing. The work has been endless and despite my attempts to ask what is going on, I remain clueless. This is often my problem. I now have the language skills to ask the questions, but I very rarely fully understand the answer.

Today there was a knock on my door. I opened it to find Aselef, Souwnet, and Genet. They hand me a bottle of cold coke and proceed to rattle off a lengthy dialogue. This is the extent to what I understand: “coke…take it…gift….ato getachew wants… party…afternoon…many people…come”. I don’t get the impression that there is any urgency associated with this message and therefore I internally translate it into the following: Ato Getachew is throwing a party this afternoon and many people will be coming. Please take this coke. It is a gift from him. I graciously take the coke (still a bit mystified) and because there is no gesture indicating I should follow I thank them and resume what I am doing. Fifteen minutes later there is another knock on my door. This time it is Genet and Abi. Abi I can understand. In his 2-year old vocabulary he says, “come” and gestures appropriately. Now why can’t everyone communicate like this?!

I now understand that I have been invited to the party. I race inside to change---I’m wearing jeans and that wouldn’t be culturally appropriate. I then follow Genet and Abi out back. Genet enters the “kitchen” and I begin to follow, but am ushered to the other room. I enter a room and come face to face with 7 Ethiopian men and Getachew (my landlord). I’m told to sit. I’m given a very large glass of tella (a locally brewed drink that has the appearance of dirty-water and a taste to match) and told to “chawata” (literally this means “to play”, but they use it to mean “chat/talk”). Mind you, I still have no idea what is going on. I also have no idea why I am the only woman in the room. I’ll be honest; I’m just a touch uncomfortable. Getachew is a man of few words and when it becomes apparent that he is not going to come to my rescue, I decide to chalk this up as yet another adventure and proceed to dive into the experience.

For 45 minutes I razzle and dazzle them with my Amharic repertoire. I ask questions about their families, occupation, age, and try to find out what in the world this event is that I’m participating in. At this point a late addition arrives. Thinking that this would be an opportune time to make my exit, I begin to stand only to be told to sit back down. I’m told to repeat my litany of questions for the latecomer! For whatever reason, they are thoroughly enjoying my company. I, on the other hand, am completely exhausted and feel like a sideshow at the circus. After an hour, Getachew indicates that I may leave if I want, but the other men insist that I stay for the ceremony and feast. It is now that one gentleman begins speaking in English….really good English. These are the times when I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I know he kept silent because this is the only way I’m going to learn this language, but carrying a conversation for an hour with 8 native speakers is downright intimidating!

Anyways…once I knew that he spoke English I was at least able to ask the question (and more importantly understand the answer) regarding the significance of this event. As it turns out, there is a celebration on the 23rd day of each month to honor St. Georgies. It is an event that only men attend. Each man in this group of 8 takes turns hosting the celebration and a collection is taken at the end of each event to help offset the costs for the next celebration. They gather to socialize, eat, have a short prayer ceremony, and drink bunna. Mystery solved!

What’s really funny about this day is that I’ve been invited to be the 9th member of the group. My attendance is not requested, but rather expected at the next “men only” St. Georgies’ Day Celebration. What have I gotten myself into??

A Fungus Among Us

Never in my life have I lived amongst so many creatures. Large, warty toads hop through the living room, hummingbird-sized wasp/moth things buzz my head like B-52 bombers as soon as the sun goes down, a spider with leg hair longer than my own lives in the shower, and for the past week an enormous cricket creeps out of a crack near the bathroom and proceeds to chirp at a decibel level that requires ear plugs to prevent hearing loss. I’ve been so consumed trying to corral these creatures, that I have failed to notice the very large mushroom sprouting in my living room. I was so disappointed that it wasn’t of the Morel variety or it would have been frying in a pan faster than my crazy cricket can disappear into his crack.

A Sense of Purpose

I have tried not to make the mistake of jumping into projects here before I get the lay of the land. I tell each school that I visit or organization that I meet with that right now I am here to learn. I need to learn what is going well, what the challenges are, what their scope or vision is, and how they think I may be of assistance. Peace Corps has been absent from Ethiopia for quite some time; consequently, I spend a lot of my time explaining the role that a Peace Corps volunteer could play. In the long run, I believe that this strategy will serve me well, but in the mean time I often feel like a ship without a rudder.

I’ve also learned that being a health volunteer assigned to an NGO providing services to OVC through the school venue is tricky. It is tricky because in the past the majority of PCVs to Ethiopia taught in the school system. When I visit these schools they regal me with stories of Ms. Patty the English teacher or Mr. Anderson the science teacher and wonder why I haven’t just been assigned to their particular school to take over a classroom.

With all that being said, I’ve decided that having purpose, even if it is not necessarily what I was brought here to do, is better than being purposeless. Hannah, Belete’s wife, is a kindergarten teacher at a private school. When I was at their home for Tseyion’s birthday party, she asked if I would be willing to come to her classroom just once to allow her students to practice conversational English. This past week I went and had such a great time that I will be making this a part of my weekly program.

Deep down, I’ve always wanted to be a teacher. In fact, I would often come home from kindergarten and play school. Mimicking the commanding voice and unique mannerisms of my own kindergarten teacher, Ms.Williams, I would conduct class. I would carefully write homework assignments on the blackboard and issue the occasional detention for an unruly stuffed animal student. When I went to school this past week, I didn’t really know what to expect or what Hannah expected of me. When she handed me the chalk, I must admit that there was a brief fluttering of panic. What do I do with a classroom of 30 children ages 5 to 8? But then I paused, thought of Ms. Williams, and charged ahead. I wrote on the board, walked up and down the classroom, called on kids (and not just the ones frantically waving their hand in the air), and truly lived in the moment. Two hours passed by in the blink of an eye and a flurry of chalk dust.





I was so exited to discover that two of my little neighborhood friends are students in Hannah’s classroom. Here Tesfye reviews the letter “u” with his classmates.