Public Transportation Can Actually Be Inspiring

One day about two weeks ago, I was headed to Shambu (the next town over) on a public bus. While I was waiting for the bus to fill up, an elderly woman came onto the bus and reserved the two seats in front of me. She disappeared, and when she returned, she was helping another woman onto the bus, who appeared to be both mentally and physically disabled. They got themselves settled, and my attention returned to my Kindle until a few minutes after the bus had left the station.

The driver’s assistant had started collecting the bus fare, and gathering what I could from the Afan Oromo conversation that ensued, she didn’t have enough money. She had been told it was only 10 birr per person, when in fact the price is 21 birr per person. Upon learning that she had less than half the required funds, she began to cry.

The bus was silent for a moment, and then one after another, 3 passengers pulled their wallets out of their pockets, saying, “I can give 5 birr.” There was a pause, and then one of them urged the rest of the bus, “Come on, we only need 6 more birr!” More wallets were opened, and enough money was pooled to allow the elderly woman and her companion to make the trip to Shambu.

That was an inspiring, heart-warming experience that will stay with me for a long time, but it’s only one example of the generosity that I witness every day here in Fincha and throughout Ethiopia. My neighbors live in a mud and straw house and their living room furniture is wooden benches because that’s all they can afford, but they share their lunch with me and invite me over to drink their coffee almost every day. When my parents and I were leaving Fincha after their visit, they insisted that I wake them up at 5 AM so that they could accompany us to the bus station. When my porch was getting dirty, the little boy on my compound voluntarily scrubbed it clean for me, and every time I arrive in Fincha after a trip, a group of children fairly rips my bags off of me so that they can carry them for me up the hill to my house.

Back home in the States, it’s now the Holiday season: the season of giving. All too often though, the definition of giving is limited to impersonal donations. Here, my neighbors, friends and even strangers on a bus are teaching me instead how to give of myself directly to a person in need, to my neighbors, and of course, to the people I love. How many Americans would scrub their neighbor’s porch, wake up at 5 AM to accompany them to the bus station, open their homes to their neighbors on a daily basis, or respond to an immediate situation to help a stranger pay her bus fare?

This is one of the big lessons I want to take home with me when my service is completed: to give of myself in ways that may not be convenient, are not necessarily pleasant, or require me to actually reach out to a stranger. Think what a world we would live in if more of us did that! And in fact, if the definition of giving included random and/or frequent acts of kindness, then thin pocketbooks this holiday season wouldn’t diminish people’s capacity to give in the slightest.

Club Started and Coffee Poured: A Work Update and Community Integration Story

Work Update

One month ago the school grounds of Fincha Elementary were unlocked, and the registration and preparation period began. Two weeks ago the teachers entered the classrooms and began to teach, and just last week, I joined in on the productivity by starting a brand new English club.  To select my students I went to every 7^th and 8^th grade classroom and chose 3 students from each, students who their teachers said were motivated, even if they weren’t ranked in the top three. We’ll meet once a week after school, and I’ll give them lessons that get them actively using their English, focusing on conversations and creative writing.

My name game had an ulterior motive: a name and face record that I could study at home before our second meeting...

We had our first meeting, and it was exactly what you would expect from a first meeting. The students were visibly curious about what it would be like to have me as their teacher, and I’m sure it was painfully obvious that I was taking their temperature, both on their English skills and on their willingness to step out of the box that is the education they’ve received thus far. The results were positive on my part: they understood enough of my instructions that I’ll be able to function without a counterpart in the room, and they were willing to play along with my name game, even though it clearly made them very uncomfortable. Hopefully they’ll come back for more!

My goal this first meeting, other than determining their skill level, was to make it clear to them through my demeanor that I care about them and I sincerely want to be there, teaching them. Judging by the way they smiled back at me and called me over to show me their work when they were finished, I’d say I was successful, and that’s going to be infinitely more rewarding than whether I teach them proper English. I’m excited to spend the year with them!

In other work-related news, I’m restarting the club I had last year for a second year with the same students, so that at minimum I’ll have two weekly clubs this school year. I’ve also ordered a table and a cabinet for my classroom, so that in the future I can do my prep work at school instead of holed up in my home. Hopefully by the time my parents arrive (in just one week!), the classroom will be a thing of beauty and the clubs will both be up and running!

Community Integration Story:

One of the recurring activities that continually makes me feel like I have a community of my own here in Fincha is the coffee ceremony. Almost every day, my neighbor invites me and my landlord & landlady over for coffee. Sometimes I sit quietly and let the Afan Oromo conversation wash over me, or watch TV Oromia and try to guess what I’m seeing. Other times they try to engage me in conversation, though the success of such efforts depends largely on how much they simplify their language and have the patience to repeat themselves multiple times.

Last week, as I was sitting in my house, I overheard my landlady complaining in Afan Oromo about how someone never prepares coffee or invites her over. I had a sneaking suspicion she was talking about me, and it turned out I was right. That afternoon at my neighbor’s house it was painstakingly explained to me that it was time for me to invite everyone over to my house for coffee. Don’t worry, they reassured me, your neighbor will prepare the coffee for you; all you have to do is provide the space, the coffee and sugar, and pour the coffee into cups when it’s ready. This seemed more than fair to me, so as soon as I finally understood all of that, I readily agreed.

In a way, I found it encouraging that they were willing to explain all of that to me. Clearly the situation had progressed to a point where according to their culture, I was being very rude. I had been drinking their coffee for almost nine months, and hadn’t once invited them all over to reciprocate. I could hardly have blamed them if they had simply stopped inviting me over, and written me off as “that rude foreigner who always takes but never gives.” Instead, they were perceptive enough to consider the possibility that I was ignorant of my mistake, and would be open to changing my behavior if I only understood where I’d gone wrong.

This afternoon, just as it had been explained, my neighbor came over before lunch to sort and wash the beans, roast them, and grind them for me. While we were waiting for the beans to roast, I explained to her that while here people drink three tiny cups of coffee spread out over about half an hour, in America people drink a large mug all in one go. Her eyes got very big in reaction, and she replied that surely the Ethiopian way was better! After lunch everyone gathered in my living room, and when my neighbor had prepared the coffee, I poured and served it.

My landlady, landlord, and an unknown man who walked in with them.

The amount of praise I received for this simple act was astounding. It felt similar to the way we praise children for finally using a fork properly at dinner. Yet somehow, it didn’t feel condescending.  I’m so grateful that they stuck with me and helped show me how to become a more active part of our compound community. We all agreed that next time, my neighbor would supervise while I tried to do it all myself – perhaps while my parents are visiting.

Warke, my neighbor who always invites me over,  Meserat, her cousin who
prepared the coffee for me, and me, enjoying the coffee and company! 

Holidays, Round Two: Proof of Progress

Last September I had been a Peace Corps Volunteer in Fincha, Ethiopia for about one month when the holiday season rolled around. Our September holds two big Ethiopian holidays practically back-to-back: the Ethiopian New Year and Meskel, which celebrates the finding of the true cross, according to the Ethiopian Orthodox Church.

Last September I spent those holidays at my first landlord’s house, and I enjoyed myself, but that was it. One house, 3 sinnis of coffee(shot-glass-sized cups), half a glass of juice, and I was finished. And I was grateful to get off so easily, because I really couldn’t handle eating the spicy chicken holiday dish, or drinking more of the barley juice, which I found horribly disgusting.

Fast-forward to now, and bam! It’s a whole new ball game. Today for Meskel I went to four houses, shared a plateful of the spicy chicken holiday dish, drank 10 sinnis of coffee and 5 full glasses of barley juice, and finished it off with a plate of the saltiest macaroni I have ever encountered. I felt like I was going to explode, but I also felt loved. Each of the four houses was the home of a family or friends who’ve welcomed me into their lives. It took the first year to figure out which people would treat me like a person, rather than a zoo exhibit, but I’ve found them. These are the people who aren’t offended when I can’t finish the plate in front of me because it’s too spicy, who have learned how to navigate the Kristen version of Afan Oromo, and who help me when I need it. In a nutshell, they accept me for me.

Barley juice, coffee, and bread - the staples of a holiday coffee ceremony in my neighborhood.

Some people hear Peace Corps and think, “Two whole years? Why must it be so long?” But it’s just like all those returned volunteers said, the second year is your sweet spot. If I had left after I hit the one year mark, I wouldn’t have been able to experience the rush of pride that I felt today, celebrating the holiday with people I truly appreciate, in exactly the way a person is expected to celebrate: make the rounds, partake of the goodies offered no matter how full you are, and use the appropriate posturing and phrases to demonstrate your gratitude and respect for the people around you. I even enjoyed drinking barley juice this year!

Here’s an anecdote to further illustrate my point: A few months ago, my landlord, with a twinkle of mischief in his eye, asked me, “maati fi waati kee fayyaa?” Which means, “Are your family and your cows fine?” This question threw me off, and had to be laboriously explained to me, but once I understood what he was asking me, I answered candidly, “maati koo fayyaa, waati hinqabu,” which means, “my family is fine, but I don’t have any cows.” This caused uproarious laughter, and it has become our comedy skit ever since. Every time I am invited in for a coffee ceremony, there is undoubtedly a visitor I have never met before, and without fail, my landlord will choose his moment carefully so that he has the room’s attention, and ask me, “How are your family and your cows?” I give my answer, and the room erupts in laughter and exclamations of how fantastic my Afan Oromo language skills are. It’s such a little thing, but it works wonders, simultaneously making me feel like I belong and giving me “street cred” with the neighbors.

What it comes down to is this: the beginning of my second year is showing me that I really have integrated into this community.  At my recent mid-service conference in the capitol city, a senior Peace Corps staff member said that PCVs don’t need to assimilate, they need to integrate. I took that to mean, our goal is not to completely shed our own culture and adopt our host community's ways. Instead, our goal is to build relationships with the people in our community: to meet in the middle. It’s tough to hit that sweet spot, but man, is it rewarding when we do! 

Me and my "siblings": Borka, Gurmu, and Hurji, on the Ethiopian New Year

YSEL Camp

What’s the best part of summertime? Nope, it’s not the beach, ice cream on a hot day, or sundresses. It’s summer camp! I already had the opportunity to direct a one-week girls’ leadership camp in my region (see previous post), but it didn’t stop there for me. Now I’m an English teacher at Ethiopia’s first YSEL camp.

YSEL stands for Youth Solidarity and English Language. It’s run by American Councils (an American NGO involved in international English education and student exchange programs) and funded by the US Embassy in Ethiopia.  The dual purpose of this camp is to teach English and to build solidarity among high school students from all nine regions of Ethiopia. From the whole country, 44 outstanding students were selected for this month-long camp. Some come from wealthy families and attend private schools, while others live alone and support themselves, putting themselves through high school. They are Protestant, Orthodox Christian, and Muslim. Since it’s Ramadan, some of them are keeping up with the demanding camp schedule while fasting. They’re all very proud of their regions, but they’re loving this opportunity to learn about each other’s cultures and celebrate what they all have in common: being Ethiopian.

They asked for PCVs to volunteer as the English teachers, and I jumped at the chance. Now here I am, one week into my two week shift, totally inspired by my students. They’re the best and brightest, and they’re so eager to learn. I teach four classes a day: homeroom, reading, and academic writing.

 I have 11 students in my homeroom class, twice a day. In the mornings I’m teaching them essay writing in the ways that are required for the TOEFL exam and admission essays (so they can apply to colleges abroad), but in the afternoons we cut loose! Together we’ve written mystery stories, performed them as dramas, played an enormous game of charades + catchphrase, and watched a TED talk on sustainable peace and discussed the complexities involved in achieving world peace. This weekend they’re writing a conversation between them and a world-famous hero.

One of my wonderful homeroom students on crazy hat day.

My reading class is a lower level, and we’re just finishing our first book, Bridge to Terabithia. We’re going to try to squeeze in a second, smaller book this last week, called Seedfolks, by Paul Fleischman. It’s about an urban, community garden in Cleveland that slowly attracts people from all walks of life and multiple ethnicities and cultural backgrounds, and they bond over their common gardening space. It fits in nicely with the theme of the camp, so it should be fun to read and discuss. For some of these students, Terabithia was the first novel they’ve ever read in English, so it’s a privilege to be able to share with them the joy of reading stories.

Without supporting evidence, all you have is two lousy pieces of bread. 

In academic writing I’m using a tried and true curriculum that YSEL developed for teaching TEFL students how to write a persuasive essay in six days. Sure enough, the students I taught last week are successfully producing essays that follow the classic five-paragraph structure. It’s a skill that, if they end up studying abroad, will be an essential part of their academic toolbox.

Student artwork on display as part of our weekly talent show.

 Gee, you say, is this summer camp or summer school? Don’t you let these kids have any fun? An excellent question, dear reader. In fact, we have club time after lunch, when last week the students could choose between karate, computer class, theater, aerobics, and poetry. Evening activities include weekly talent shows (where yours truly performed a Bollywood dance courtesy of my college days, to the campers’ delight), debates, movie night, a public speaking competition, and next week, a geography bee. Now you’re wondering if we ever sleep, right? A little bit, but who needs sleep when you get to be part of a camp like this?

Yeah, that's right, I'm holding plates of brownies and peanut butter cookies. Icing on the cake!

Camp GLOW

Camp GLOW Nekemte 2013 in full force!

“I AM STRONG WOMAN!” – The cry that rang out on the last day of Camp GLOW Nekemte and gave me shivers up my spine to hear it.

Every summer in developing countries around the world, Peace Corps volunteers come together to put on summer  camps for young girls, called Camp GLOW: Girls Leading Our World. Funded by PEPFAR (President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief), the camps teach girls about health, leadership, gender, volunteerism, and teamwork. This summer in Ethiopia, 12 camps will take place, including our camp in the city of Nekemte.

This year with 15 powerhouse PCVs, 8 Ethiopian adult counterparts, and 6 stellar returning junior counselors, we decided to go all out and bring a total of 66 ninth grade girls as campers from our towns to Nekemte, despite only being required to bring 30. Despite our utter exhaustion at the camp’s conclusion, we couldn’t be more glad we went big, because our camp was “an epic success.”  Humble we may not be, but as director of this year’s Nekemte Camp GLOW, I couldn’t be more proud of our collective efforts to give as many girls as possible the best camp we could.  

The central message of our camp was female leadership, with sessions designed to answer three fundamental questions: what is leadership, why should girls be leaders, and how can they practically demonstrate leadership?  Our sessions included a variety of topics and activities – anatomy, STIs, HIV prevention, gender roles, gender-based violence, intro to volunteerism, mural painting, cooking demo with nutrition lesson, container gardening, resisting peer pressure,  public speaking, and more, if you can believe it – with all roads leading back to leadership. Our goal was to give them a concrete understanding of the variety of ways to be a leader, including being a role model of positive behavior and purposefully pursuing your goals, so that girls can immediately begin  applying leadership even while they’re still students.

To that end, I want to share with you the stories of two girls from Fincha:

First is Chaltu*, who lives with her grandparents and her aunt. Throughout the school year she’s only allowed to leave the house for school, and must remain at home the rest of the time, as is the case for most girls in Ethiopia. In fact, her aunt forbade her to come to the camp until her grandfather stepped in and overruled the decision. Five days into camp we took all the girls on a field trip to visit successful women in Nekemte and hear their stories. Walking with Chaltu back to camp, she told me that she’s always wished she was a boy, because they’re free to go where they like and do what they want, but that because of this week at camp and hearing those successful women speak, she’s realized that it’s good to be a woman. In her words, “woman is the base of everything. Without woman, there is nothing.” She began the week shy and quiet, but by the end of the week she was freely laughing and competitively participating in field day, showing the confidence that is the foundation of leadership.

Stop #1 of the field trip: a grocery store owned by Chaltu's relative

Second is Ayantu*, the daughter of a prominent figure in the county’s education bureau. A naturally reserved and poised young woman, she quickly took the lead in two distinct ways. One was translation. Our camp was conducted in three spoken languages – English, Amharic (Ethiopia’s national language), and Afan Oromo (the regional language) – and Ayantu easily translated our English into either language whenever one of our junior counselors or counterparts wasn’t available. The other involves  our camp’s fourth language : sign language. Our camp was held at the Nekemte School for the Deaf, four of our campers were deaf, and members of the cooking and maintenance staff were also deaf. Ayantu was on the same team as our deaf campers, and she jumped right into learning sign language directly from her teammates. Long before the end of the week she was stringing signs together to make sentences and playing games with them that didn’t require speech, modeling for other campers how to treat them with respect and see them as more than their disability.  

Ayantu using her new sign language skills to communicate with her teammates

I’m very proud of these two Fincha ladies, and there are another 64 stories just like the two I’ve shared. On Saturday during field day, one of the activities was a voice projection exercise, to teach girls to literally find their voices. We asked them to shout at the top of their lungs, “I am a strong woman!,” and even the typically quieter girls held nothing back. When it came time for our closing candle ceremony, all 66 girls were in tears. We asked one of the girls why she was so moved, and she said she never expected to feel like she could be a leader. No one had ever told her it was possible before.

I can hardly express how inspiring and rewarding it was to see the girls embrace the possibility that they could be  female leaders and just GLOW with the knowledge that if nothing else, they can be the leaders of their own lives. Ladies and gentlemen, this is why I joined the Peace Corps!

 

Me and my team of monkeys!

*Name has been changed

Painting my Model Classroom: A Success Story

6/16/13

As an education PCV, I’m guided by the education program framework, which stipulates that my work should focus in part on training teachers in incorporating more active learning methods into their lessons. To that end, we’re encouraged to establish model classrooms in our schools and train teachers on how the classroom itself can be used as a teaching tool. Halfway through the school year I succeeded in getting the key to a classroom, and considered that a victory in itself. However, while the room was structurally sound, it was in disrepair both in terms of furniture and paint, so I determined that if the classroom was going to be a model classroom, it needed a paint job and new desks to be worthy of the name.

The classroom after the walls had gotten a thorough scrub

Peace Corps Ethiopia recently started a mini-grant program, through which PCVs can receive grants of no more than 3,000 birr (roughly $160) by an expedited application and review process. Armed with this knowledge, I met with the school director and the cluster supervisor to determine the school’s interest in supporting my project. They were thrilled with the idea, and in fact pledged to provide me with new desks, paintbrushes, and talented students as their contribution.

Two months later the desks had been built and I had received approval and funding for my project. The implementation got off to a rocky start, with scores of students scrubbing the walls only to abandon the work after 20 minutes each, but with the help of a dedicated teacher, we succeeded in rounding up enough rotations of students to get the walls cleaned. After that the director found three eighth grade students who agreed to paint with me all week , and things went uphill from there. Those three came every day, twice a day, for four days until the work was finished. Not only did they come, but they were good sports when I insisted we do touch-ups on all the mistakes we’d made, and they continually chased away the crowds of students who would gather to watch and jeer at the foreigner. Working with them was the highlight of the experience by far.

My three dedicated painters

 We finished and got the desks moved into the room just in time for the end of the school year, so while I haven’t been able to use it yet, it’s primed and ready for me to hit the ground running next October. I plan to hold two weekly English clubs in it, and to model teach while the teacher observes at least once a week, demonstrating how to rearrange the desks to facilitate group work and other simple techniques for increasing participation. Getting the room put together and ready gave me a great sense of accomplishment to take with me through the summer months!

The finished product!

Year One in Photos

Note: As an amateur blogger, I had some trouble with sizing these photos. Some of them are on the small side here, but you can view them full screen if you click on them. 

Today, June 6, 2013, marks exactly one year of living in Ethiopia. It’s been a year unlike any other, full of seemingly insurmountable challenges, intense frustration, boredom, loneliness, and occasionally frightening moments, but also chock full of personal growth, new friendships, cultural exchange, and adventures & experiences that I suspect will be lifetime highlights.

In anticipation of being able to say I’d been here for a year, I took some time to reflect and to put together a collection of photos that represent the highlights of each of the past twelve months: 

June 2012

Left: Tenagne, my language instructor, preparing to play the role of shopkeeper so that we could practice using our new shopping vocabulary.

Middle: Me and the other three ladies in my first language class, back when we were learning Amharic, the national language.

Right: Not only did we study Amharic together, but we also vented to each other about the difficulties that come of living with an Ethiopian family when you don’t yet understand social cues or Ethiopian culture. They were a wonderful support system!

July 2012 

Top Left: My first time seeing Fincha, my hometown. In the middle of our pre-service training, we were given a week to go out and visit our future hometowns, to see what it would be like and bring that knowledge back to improve the relevance of the second half of training.

Top Right: While on my site visit, I met Laura and Paul, the current Fincha and Shambu (the next town over) volunteers for the first time, and together with Adam, the Shambu equivalent of me, we went out on a hike to the waterfall outside Fincha, which was beautiful. I got pretty lucky with who I live near. They’re incredible people, earnest volunteers, and my family-away-from-family.

Bottom Left: Back at training, being sassy during a break.

Bottom Right: All the trainees of Huruta!

August 2012

Left: Me with my host family, at the end of our two months together. They had been through the process of hosting an American who’s brand new to Ethiopia once before, so they were very understanding when I needed some quiet time alone in my room or when I would only eat the dishes they made that weren’t super spicy, but they were also happy to show me how to crochet Ethiopia-style, how to cook some basic Ethiopian dishes, and how to prepare coffee. They were perfect, basically.

Middle: The day I became a real Peace Corps Volunteer!

Right: The harsh reality of transitioning from being a trainee to being a volunteer – my first home the way it looked when I arrived. Does it remind anyone else of a prison? This isn’t exactly a highlight, but it’s certainly a mark of how far I’ve come. I panicked that first day, and wondered what on earth had possessed me to join the Peace Corps. Don’t worry, I still wonder that sometimes, but most days I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world, no matter how much I miss chocolate chip cookies.

September 2012

Left: My first house, after some significant efforts to turn it from a dungeon into a home. Home-decorating and exploring the town are what occupied most of my time that first month, when school was still closed for the summer.

Middle: over at my counterpart’s house, trying to grind coffee while his wife cracks up at my efforts.

Right: Out on a hike with Laura to Lake Fincha, I stumbled into some quick-mud. As you can see, it was pretty deep!

October 2012

Left: Me and my first counterpart, Amente, enjoying the lovely post-rainy season weather.

Middle: School finally started, so I was able to start my Community Education Needs Assessment (CENA), which occupied my first three months, and consisted of spending lots of time on the school campus, observing and asking questions, and yielded a fairly good understanding of how things work in Fincha Elementary. Here, two teachers are working on their weekly lesson plans.

Right: When the next group of volunteers arrived in Ethiopia, Laura and I hosted a group of them on a demystification trip to Fincha. Here, we’re getting some traditionally-prepared coffee from our favorite coffee lady. Hosting the newcomers shed light on the progress I’d made in just 3 ½ months, in language acquisition, overall adjustment, and confidence.

November 2012

Left: During the last weeks of my CENA research, I snapped this picture of the librarian and one of the PE teachers, being silly.

Middle: Lake Wenchi, one of two crater lakes in Africa. I went with most of the volunteers in my group, while we were at our first In-Service Training, a landmark in a PCV’s progress, signaling the end of our initial 3-month period of adjustment and research and the beginning of the expectation that we would be doing work in our communities.

Right: Leaping over a swamp/stream on our hike around Lake Wenchi. What an adventure! (I made it, in case you were wondering.)

December 2012

Top Left: A visitor! My friend, Ben, is living in Kenya and working for a micro-finance rating organization, and he was sent to Addis on a work trip. I took my first solo trip down to Addis to meet up with him, and took him around the city to see the sights. What a fun opportunity to meet up so far from home!

Top Middle: Christmas stockings! They’re the fruition of a collaboration between me and the tailor. Laura and I filled them with knickknacks, and voila – one of my favorite parts of Christmas, possible in Fincha!

Top Right: Christmas dinner! Laura hosted, we had the Shambu guys over, and we ate homemade mashed potatoes and bullion-cube gravy, boxed stuffing, canned cranberry sauce, and glazed carrots. Perfection.

Bottom Left: The first and most consistent/long-lasting thing I accomplished this year was starting an English club with Laura, for underprivileged 4^th and 5^th graders. Here are the kids at the Christmas lesson, where I showed them a mini Christmas tree and a stocking, explained American Christmas traditions, and then gave each of them a mini-candy cane as a present.

Bottom Right: Oh, glorious day – the day that I finally moved out of my first house and escaped the creep who lived next door and the jerk who lived on the other side of me, both of whom took advantage of our thin walls to have conversations over me. Here, my things are being transported up the hill by horse cart, which is of course totally normal.

January 2013

The most significant thing that was photo-worthy in January was turning my second house into a home. I hired a painter and together we repainted the walls, and this is how it turned out:

Left: My bedroom. I painted the blue myself!

Middle: The study area of my main room.

Right: The kitchen area of my main room. When I first saw the way the yellow wall turned out, I hated it. I’ve always had a thing against yellow, but lo and behold, six months later and not only have gotten used to it, I actually like it! A true example of how the Peace Corps will change you to your core.

It's a lot more decorated now, though, and I've added an upholstered chair.

February 2013

Top Left: My counterpart, Dereje, and me, at our Oromia Regional In-Service Training, at which we went through a 2-day Project Design and Management training, during which Dereje and I laid plans for getting me a model classroom and starting a teacher mentorship program. Both of these things have happened! I’d call the training a success.

Top Right: Continuing my training in how to prepare coffee the traditional Ethiopia way. This time I was allowed to do it all with supervision. Here, I’m roasting the beans while my teacher, Hurji, watches closely to make sure I don’t burn them.

Bottom Left: Hurji’s three brothers, happily occupied with my computer while I learn to make coffee. They’ve all had a small amount of computer training at school, but have had no opportunity to practice. Since they were very careful with the machine the first time I let them use it, it’s turned into a routine.

Bottom Right: The girls from our English club, with their acrostic poems of positive adjectives that correspond with their names and how they see themselves. What a rewarding activity!

March 2013

Top Left: Laura, giving a training on gender with female workers from the Fincha Sugar Factory. I went with her and helped out, and it was a great training, despite the lack of men in the audience.

Top Right: My new classroom! This was the first meeting of our club in my brand new (to me) classroom. It’s been such a blessing to be able to count on having a space every single Monday for us to meet.

Bottom Left: Me and Laura with Faati, the best coffee-maker in Fincha, with the poster she allowed us to put on her wall for International Women’s Day. It says in Afan Oromo that just as you cannot clap with one hand, you cannot develop without women. Bordering it are contributions from high school students, who wrote ways that women are strong.

Bottom Right: Me, striking out on my own, making Ethiopian coffee completely independently. It wasn’t half bad, either!

April 2013

Left: Not the greatest photo, but it shows the dormitory of the new Nekemte School for the Deaf, where our Camp GLOW will be held in July. The camp will be a one-week female leadership-focused camp for 9^th grade girls from eight different towns in our region, and we spent three days in April together in Nekemte, planning everything out for it. As director of the camp this year, I planned and ran the meeting, and I’m happy to report that it was a very fruitful weekend.

Middle: Warming up with the Grassroots Soccer (GRS) kids. GRS is a program developed in South Africa that combines soccer drills with HIV/AIDS education. Laura ran it, and I helped her out. It was a great program!

Right: Me at my favorite family’s house on the Wednesday before Ethiopian Easter, eating mushy corn as part of their traditions.

May 2013

Top Left: Me with wonderful PCV friends, on a boat on Lake Hawassa, on our way to see hippos!

Bottom Left: Me and Alicia, about to start the 7K race in Hawassa.

Top Right: When I arrived home from my trip to Hawassa, I found that preparations were in full swing for my landlord’s daughter’s wedding! Here from left to right are Takalu, my landlady, Gadaffa, my landlord, his daughter the bride, his new son-in-law the groom, and two of her bridesmaids.

Bottom Right: Me and the Grassroots Soccer participants at their formal completion celebration. I think they were sad to see it come to an end.

June 2013

There are tuna cans pictures here, but I quickly replaced them with rocks when
they started to  stink and turn brown. Whoever said tuna cans were a viable option lied. 

Above: Already this month I’ve finally gotten around to purchasing the necessary pots and finding good stones to create a make-shift, stove-top oven, and have successfully made banana bread and something similar to biscuits that tasted good when eaten with gravy!

With roughly 14 months left in my service, I sometimes feel like I'm counting down the days until I get to see my family and friends again, but I equally as often feel the urge to make the most of what remains of my time here in Ethiopia. So here's to year two: may it bring fewer heartaches, more opportunities to reach out and be of help, and more everyday moments that I'll cherish for years to come.