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