My Life is NOT My Own!

For many of you, I suspect that when you consider my life in Ethiopia you shudder to imagine yourself here. You read about my public bus escapades experienced sardine style and think NO WAY. You hear me waxing poetic on that last great warm shower (was that 5 or 6 days ago?), and think NOPE, NOT ME. You picture me wandering about town, mostly clueless and understanding less than 50% of the conversation around me and think NOT IN THIS LIFE. Power outages, scant water, unusual food, Africanized bugs, monsoon rains, intense sun, squatter toilets, and the list could go on and on. Yes, there are a lot of things that have taken a truckload of patience, grit, determination, and optimism to conquer, tolerate, and in some instances grow to love. Despite the inconveniences and differences, I can truthfully say that this country and people have grown on me. I will always have a special interest in and love for Ethiopia. The warmth of this people and the stunning beauty of this country outweigh any of the challenges I have encountered.

There is however, one aspect of my life here that I have yet to welcome with open arms and I suspect I never will. My coping strategies have fallen short in this arena. No amount of visualization, humor, prayer, or sheer stubbornness has helped me to adjust and embrace what I like to refer to as the “your life is not your own” mindset. For an American who cut her teeth on individualism and is an honorary if not actual member of the “ME-generation,” this is a hard pill to swallow. Privacy, personal agenda, me-time and the infamous “personal bubble” truly are foreign concepts here. I know that my Ethiopian friends probably think me crazy…and I will be crazy if I don’t figure out how to cope with this! That I long for a solo-walk, want to hole up in my house for an afternoon of reading, and don’t need to be constantly surrounded by people is unfathomable to many of my Ethiopian friends. I’m definitely not a misanthrope…just a person who requires a modicum of space.

There is no better example of my “life is not my own” than the events that transpired a few weekends ago. Actually it was only a day…24 hours…a full revolution of the Earth on its axis. In the grand scheme of things—a relatively short period of time. In the moment—an eternity.

Aselef, my landlady, approached me on a Saturday afternoon asking if she could use my house for 2 hours on Sunday. It was a seemingly straightforward request that required a simple yes or no answer. Unfortunately, that is not how things work here. I desperately wanted and needed to say no. My home has become my haven. It’s the ONE place in this town where I can almost find a bit of privacy (almost is the key word). I had planned on a “me-day”….reading, writing, cleaning, organizing, movie watching, etc. But I knew “no” was not an acceptable answer; nor could I even begin to explain a “me-day” and my need for it. So…reluctantly, and before a host of on-lookers (Aselef always makes requests to me with peer support in tow) I acquiesced. We agreed on the hours of 12p-2p, all the while knowing that her 2-hour request was probably a gross understatement.

Sunday dawned bright and beautiful. I was in the middle of a bucket shower and planning how I would enjoy my remaining few hours of privacy, when Aselef began pounding on the back door. Time—9am…a mere 3 HOURS before our agreed upon time. Before I could get out of the shower and dressed, she was pounding on my bedroom window. So, while I finished my morning ablutions, she and a small army of workers bustled in and out of my house. They rearranged my living room, carted in armfuls of cut grasses (my house smelled like a freshly cut field of hay), moved in no less than a stack of 50 plates and glasses, large clay pots of Tella (the local brew), and a stack of “fat injera.” It truly looked like they were prepared to wait out a storm of grand proportions. It was at this time, that I was given a job—to remove all of my possessions from the living room and hallway. Books, stacks of magazines, blankets, computer, shoes, and a sundry of other items had to be carted into my bedroom. It was there that I took refuge…for the day. At 3:20p I ventured out (nature calls) and discovered the party to be in full swing. At 4:30p, I had had enough. Although a few stragglers remained sipping the last of the Tella, I began cleaning. Let me tell you, when the farenji picks up the broom and dustpan, things begin to happen.

After 8 hours and 150 guests, I finally reclaimed my home, but not my sanity. “What’s mine is yours” is a fine sentiment, but in practice it’s a bit much. I’m sure that someday I shall look back at this moment in time, this clash of cultures and smile. At the moment, however, I’m not laughing!






Unfortunately these pics don’t come close to capturing the chaos that descended upon me this day. When the party was in full swing, I was hiding. And, I didn’t think to take pics until the clean up was in process.

Girlz Empowerment Trip

My friend Dee has limitless energy, grand ideas, and a passion for empowering girls. If an idea or program may encourage a young girl to learn, grow, become more self-empowered and confident, or make better choices, then no hurdle will stand in the way to making that happen. For the past year, Dee has been working with a group of 9th and 10th grade students at the local high school. As a year-end reward, Dee invited those who consistently attended her extracurricular English class on an all-expenses paid trip to Addis Ababa. For all 7 of these girls, this truly was the opportunity of a lifetime. None of them had ever visited their capital and most of them had never been outside of their town.

Imagine taking 7 high school girls on a multi-overnight field trip to a city in a developing country. Now imagine you and that group of girls not sharing a common language. Dee does not speak Amharic and the girls English is rudimentary at best, but that didn’t stop her. When she called and asked if I was willing to help, I jumped at the opportunity. During my time in Ethiopia, I have frequently found myself getting hung up on the barriers. Where I see a mountain, Dee barely registers a speed bump, so I leapt at the chance to not only help, but to learn from one who I consider to be an inspiration.

At the absurd hour of 4am, we began our journey….a journey that proved to be empowering for not only the girls, but for me as well.

Our trip objectives were simple….to have fun, to consider “new” things, to broaden their world, to meet successful African women, and to experience the beauty and culture that exists within their own country.

Everything was new and exciting. From the card-key access to the hotel room (this required practice) to the elevator experience at the African Union, this was a trip that I’m sure was as magical as it was overwhelming. From sunup to sundown we were on the go. They experienced Addis Ababa University at the hand of my friend and professor, Wondimu, learned about the amazingly diverse people and culture of Ethiopia through the Museum and Library of the Institute of Ethiopian Studies, cowered in fear and awe at the Lion Park, were dazzled by the artistry and beauty of the immense stained-glass mural at Africa Hall, met with a successful Ethio-American woman working for the Clinton Foundation, tried appetizers at the Hilton Hotel, saw a movie in the only theatre in Ethiopia with stadium seating, rode an escalator at the airport, and toured the African Union.

Looking back, I think we were successful in meeting our objectives. I may never know, however, the impact that this brief and frenzied 3-day trip will have on their lives. I’d like to think that if nothing else, they will embrace the idea that anything IS possible. I sure have.

The girls and I outside of our home base, the RAS Hotel.

Wondimu was my language teacher during training and currently a professor of literature at AA University. He just happened to be standing 2 minutes away when I called to see if he could give the girls a tour.
The girls loved Lion Park. I did not. After seeing these majestic creatures roam the Masai Mara wild and free, it was painful to see them pacing the confines of this man-made prison.
The stained-glass mural, created by local artist Afewerk Tekle, was immense and breathtakingly beautiful. I only wish that it were located in a more accessible public space to be enjoyed by all. Because this building serves as an operations HQ for the UN work in Africa, getting access required passports/government IDs and tenacity on the part of Dee.
Africa Hall was built by His Imperial Majesty Haile Selaisse, emperor from 1930 to 1974, to serve as the HQ for the Organization of African Unity. On our tour, it was a bit confusing to ascertain which body currently makes use of this assembly hall. The girls, however, enjoyed playing “delegate” and took turns speaking to the assembly from the elevated dais.
When the girls were asked what THEY wanted to do or see on the trip, the unanimous response was “ride an elevator and escalator!” They had been reading a book with Dee that talked about both of these modern day inventions and despite Dee’s chalkboard drawings and demonstrations, the girls just couldn’t fathom how they worked. This task proved to be our most challenging one. There is exactly one escalator in all of Ethiopia and fortunately the airport security guards kindly gave the girls permission to enter and ride to their hearts content. The elevator experience proved most difficult to make happen. Despite numerous elevators in Addis, we had difficulty finding a working one due to power outages. On our last day, while at the African Union, we were successful. I had to laugh, though. To access the elevator, one had to climb 8 steps. So much for barrier free access.
Not only did we chaperone 7 high school girls, but a handful of little ones as well. No rest for the weary!

If you can’t tell, there is a gigantic sigh of relief on our faces. We can finally relax and breathe knowing that all the girls we started with are back on the bus, safe and sound.