My “other” Life

When I need a dose of “America” I don’t have to spend $2000 and endure 26 hours of trans-continental travel. Instead, I make my way to Addis and the oasis that Liz and Richard’s home represents. I am blessed to know them (Liz and my sis worked together in the States) and am so appreciative of their generosity.

When I step into this little slice of Heaven, all things America overwhelm my senses. My nose is greeted with the scent of chicken nuggets, TIDE laundry detergent, kitty litter, and freshly cut grass. My ears are bombarded with the raucous laughter of 5-year old couldn’t-be-more-different twins, Ella and Chloe, singing at the top of their lungs to Hannah Montana and the grumble from Uncle Bobblehead, their crazy cat, as he is half-dragged half-carried across the living room. My eyes are agog at all of the amenities...frig, freezer, microwave, television (x2), washer and dryer. I can’t get enough of the feel of a down comforter on 400 thread count sheets or the tactile joy of trucking across plush carpeted floor in my bare feet. Oh…and the farenji food (cashews, white-meat chicken, vanilla wafers, pretzels…) that bursts from every cupboard and countertop is a treat for my taste buds and a threat to my waistline.

It’s easy to get swept up in this “other” life. I baby-sit Ella and Chloe to give Richard and Liz a much needed/much deserved date night, get sucked into cable TV series such as MasterChef, attend dinner parties with ex-pats who represent all corners of the globe, and cruise around Addis insulated in a late model 4Runner with their driver Mulugeeta.

Occasionally I try to introduce a little of my world into their world. Recently, my friend Megan and I had the girls for the morning while Liz attended a conference. Liz dropped us off at Kaldi’s coffee shop and then we walked a ¼ mile (downhill) to an Ethiopian craft bazaar. While there we ran into some of my new ex-pat friends who asked how we had gotten there without Liz and the car. I responded with “by foot” and in turn they responded with “oh…how uncivilized!” When it came time to leave the craft fair, Chloe turned to me and said, “we’d better find a car because my feet felt funny walking.” These are the times that I just have to laugh and realize how different these two worlds are. I love them both and am glad that I can easily hop back and forth between the two.


Chloe and Ella recently celebrated their 5th birthday and I just happened to be in Addis in time to participate in the festivities.




Ella was just enthralled with my new rain boots and just had to try them on.

Bunna Ceremony Bloopers

A few weeks ago, my friend Igigiyew helped me to purchase all the necessary items to host my own bunna ceremony….jabena (clay coffee pot), sendle and holder (incense), genda (the white box), sinne set (cups and saucers), bunna, and the very ugly but necessary fake grass plastic mat. Since then she (as well as Tambarat and a host of their siblings) have been asking me on a daily basis as to when they will be invited over for bunna. I decided that I could not stall any longer and invited them over for Sunday afternoon. I then raced home to practice! Aselef, Souwnet, and Genet kindly guided me through my Saturday practice session and assured me that my bunna was WOFRAM (this laterally translates as “fat”, but in this context means strong coffee) and ANDEGNA (“first” or “best”).

Sunday I awoke anxious and nervous. Ethiopians take their bunna ceremonies very seriously and I didn’t want to mess it up. I started preparing (and pacing) 2 hours prior to the event. I popped the fandesha (popcorn), fanned the charcoal, arranged and re-arranged my bunna ceremony items, and waited…and waited…and waited a bit more. Ethiopians are anything but punctual.

Eventually, Igigiyew, Tambarat, Tedeseh, and my Canadian friend Tammy arrived and my first official bunna ceremony began. I must admit that Ethiopian women make this entire process look easy, but let me assure you that it is NOT! I found it impossible to fan the flame, prevent the bunna from boiling over, wash the cups, put the water back on to boil, all the while trying to remember who drank from which cup! Thankgoodness Tammy and Igigiyew were willing to step in and help because I needed all hands on deck! Tambarat found my incompetence to be quite hilarious and in broken English made his own joke. “How many farenjis does it take to make a cup of coffee? THREE…one to fan the fire, one to prevent the pot from boiling over, and one to serve!” Ahh, what a funny man!

In the end, I somehow managed to brew 3 rounds of wofram bunna and in turn received many accolades from my very patient and accommodating guests. I then introduced a new post-bunna ceremony tradition…a game of UNO. There is nothing more funny than hearing a 20-something Ethiopian guy yell “UNO” with an Amharic accent!




















Saturday practice session














Igigiyew lends a helping hand














Igigiyew, Tambarat, Me, and Tadeseh.















Me and Tammy

Flower Power Update

The zinnias that I planted from seed months ago are AMAZING! When I returned from my South African expedition the zinnias had grown by leaps and bounds and were bursting with buds and flowers. They have truly flourished in Ethiopian soil. I have had cut flowers decorating my house everyday and have been able to share bouquets with many of my Ethiopian friends. I’ve also had numerous requests for seeds. If I return to Debremarkos 20 years from now, will I find that zinnias are my lasting legacy?

Rub-a-dub-dub

I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands and institute an “abi shower program.” His showers are few and far between and when they do occur are painful for him (freezing cold water is dredged up from the well long after the sun has gone down) and for me (he screams relentlessly!) Since he is spending a considerable amount of time with me and in my house, I’ve decided something needs to be done and it looks like I’m the one to do it.

I dare say that Abi probably had the most thorough shower of his life. Genet and I scrubbed him from top to bottom and everywhere in between….and he was so GOOD! He didn’t shed a tear, he didn’t scream, and he didn’t run away. I suspect, however, that this was probably due more to the warm water that I used than my expert technique!




















I used my entire arsenal of bathing equipment---foot scrubber, washcloth, soap, and shampoo to get Abi looking spiffy. His feet were a serious challenge! I knew my wound care and debridement skills would eventually come in handy, but I never dreamed it would be for bathing a 2 year old.



























































My new friend Tami (short term volunteer with WHO) served as my assistant for shower #2 and rewarded Abi for his stellar behavior with a piece of licorice. This kid loves all farenji food!

The RAINS have come….Finally!

The big summer rains are critical to the people of Ethiopia. Without rains, there is no harvest, no food for livestock, and ultimately no income. Famine is not just a possibility, but a very real threat and in some regions of the country it is a current reality. The short rainy season that should have occurred for a few weeks during the months of March and April never arrived. Fortunately, the big rains have finally begun. And although they are late and not as torrential as they should be, there is a collective sigh of relief and a cautious celebration.

I am amazed at the transformation that has occurred in Ethiopia. What has been barren and dry since my arrival is now bursting with color and life. Baby donkeys, covered in a layer of fuzz much like that of a peach, frolic alongside their progressively plumper mothers. Teams upon teams of oxen, spurred by the crack of a whip, labor from dawn to dusk to prepare the fields for planting. The young and the old, armed with their rain boots and gessas (a raincoat made from grasses), flit about like bees in a hive. Oblivious to the cold and the mud, they work day in and day out to ensure that there will be a plentiful harvest.

For those of us who are “city” dwellers, the rain is inconvenient. It’s hard to look “professional” with your pants tucked into your socks or your lower half speckled with mud. If you are not slipping and sliding, you are standing stationary, balanced on one foot while trying to reclaim the other from mud that has the strength of epoxy. But NOBODY complains. The rain is the lifeblood for urban and rural people alike.

For me the rainy season has been a welcome respite from the relentless sun and heat. I have discovered that there is nothing more beautiful than the symphony of sound that is played out on the tin roof of my home. I truly LOVE A RAINY DAY!

Friend Found!

After 6 months I can finally say that I truly have an Ethiopian friend. One that wasn’t an automatic friend because we work together or share the same compound, but an authentic bonafide friend. This may not seem like such a big deal, but let me tell you how huge this is. Most of the female PCVs have found it challenging to meet Ethiopian women. The majority of our work colleagues are men and if there are women in professional circles they have to race home at the end of the day to take care of the household. If a woman isn’t working outside of the home, she is ensconced behind the compound gate from sun-up to sundown exhausted by cooking, cleaning, and child rearing. This saves little time for hanging out with the new farenji in town.

So that is why my friendship with Igigiyew has been such a blessing. She and her husband run a small shop that adjoins their living quarters. How perfect is that! She can “work” while we hang out. She is young (I think she eventually decided that she is 23 years old), has been married for a couple of years, has no children, and speaks NO English. She is also very patient and easy-going, which is a critical aspect of our friendship. My Amharic is still pretty poor, but she is amazingly patient and somehow we communicate just fine.

She’s one of the few Ethiopians I’ve met that will speak slowly and try a variety of words and gestures until I get a clue as to what she is talking about. I help her in the shop, we cook together, go to market together, listen to music (I’m gradually trying to introduce her to some of my music), play cards (skip-bo and Uno are favorites), and simply “hang out”. And, get this, we even “talk” on the phone. I have to admit that having a phone conversation in Amharic is one of the most difficult things. In fact, I dread it. When the phone rings and I glance at the screen to see one of my Ethiopian acquaintances or colleagues is calling, I have a visceral reaction. My heart rate accelerates, a cold sweat breaks out, and the butterflies in my stomach take flight. Between the poor network connection and the lack of any visual cues, I find it difficult from the first “hello”. But, with Igigiyew…it doesn’t seem to matter. We proceed through the litany of greetings, make arrangements to meet, and laugh when I realize that my response doesn’t even come close to matching her question. How have I survived 6 months without her friendship?!?!


My new friend Igigiyew.

While sitting in the middle of her shop, Igigiyew gives me a lesson on how to make shiro.

Want a Fish Kiss?

I love to ask Abi if he’d like a fish kiss! And I must confess that I am proud of my ability to ask him this in Amharic!! He’s not quite sure rather to run or laugh when he sees my ridiculously contorted face.