Getting Acclimated: Bugs and Foreign Languages

**Disclosure: the length is very intimidating, once again, I know, but it reads fairly quickly. Then again, I’m biased seeing as how I wrote it…

Selam! I hope this post finds you all well wherever you may be on this ginormous planet of ours. I have been in Ethiopia now a little over a week and thought I’d let you know that I’m alive and well.

Sincerely,

Sem

Just kidding. For those of you who know me, you know how much I love to talk and these posts are not exempt from my tendency to ramble. If you do not wish to waste your precious time, this is a good time to stop. You’ve been warned. For the rest of you, it’s story time!!

Where to begin? Well this is semi good news. For the past few days, I have been “waking up” (I use this term loosely as it implies I’ve been sleeping, which I have not been. I am an insomniac naturally plus I still have yet to adjust to the time. A very unhealthy combo according to my face, which is sporting such a delicious looking pimple right in between my eyebrows. TMI and a tangent. Double whammy!) wondering where Brad (Pitt) and our 12 children are. Let me explain. Regardless of the fact that I pretty much sleep with bug spray, as in I’m drenched in it as well as cradling or spooning it (depending on what has taken over that day: my estrogen or testosterone levels respectively), a “bimbi”, which means mosquito in Amharic, got a little too intimate and bit me right on my mouth. I’ve been sporting Ang’s signature pout, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.  In fact, it’s something I’ve always wanted, however, these means, while inexpensive, are a little unsanitary for my taste.

Of course this happens on my first day of teaching. Looking a little Joan Rivers-esque in all her botched plastic surgery glory, also donning A WHITE CHEMISTRY/NURSE/ STRAIGHT JACKET (yea, all the teachers wear them) I walked into my 5^th grade class and began to inspire young minds. I wish! Not quite that idyllic, but it actually wasn’t horrible, despite all of my worries. The kids were very sweet and were very intrigued by the fact that my parents were born in Ethiopia, but I’m an American. All they wanted to do was speak to me in Amharic, but seeing as how I’m a spoken English teacher, I felt that it would defeat the purpose of my entire class. I proceeded to write my name and date on the blackboard as chalk came snowing down my face, “Monday, September 23^rd, 2013”. The kids all laughed as I stared blankly back at them. One girl gently raised her hand and said it’s 2006.

Fun fact: It’s 2006 in Ethiopia. Think back. What were you doing in September 2006? I was starting my sophomore year of high school. It’s crazy how time flies… and then goes backwards. Bet you’ve never heard that expression. It’s the Ethiopian version. So for those of you who have regrets and wish you could do a particular year over again, come to Ethiopia and watch your dreams come true. Or if you had an outstanding year and would like to relive your glory days, come on over as well and watch the fun unravel once more. Well, it took me a second to collect my thoughts and rewrite the date. Yet another thing to adjust to, but of all the things I have to get used to, this is the least of my worries.

I think the most difficult thing for them as students and for me as their teacher is learning our boundaries and appropriate behavior regarding our time and space. Being a volunteer, I have the opportunity to play with the kids until they leave the grounds at around 5:30pm including days I am not scheduled to teach. The yard is a nice size with the means to play all kinds of sports or games and of course talk, talk, talk.  Being comparatively younger than the other teachers, paired with amount of time spent playing, it makes for an interesting dynamic. On one hand, we can relate to each other as our generations aren’t ridiculously spaced, but that makes it difficult for the children to see me as both their buddy and disciplinarian. It’s difficult for me as well to make the switch from one to the other, afraid of loosing either friendship or authority (Machiavelli, what conclusion did you come to again?).  Unfortunately, it’s a fine line and one that may take a while to draw. Fortunately, I have some time. Regardless, they are smart kids and have the ability to do some fantastic things once they learn to channel their energy into something more productive when in a classroom setting.

In between classes, I hang out in the teacher’s lounge, which is essentially another classroom, but with lockers for each of us. It’s quite convenient actually. I’m still in the meeting and greeting process, but everyone I have met so far has been incredibly warm spirited, light hearted, and willing to teach me any and everything I need to know to have a successful year. However, curiousness has them asking me questions like, “So, you’re Ethiopian. Why have you never been here before? Don’t you like your country? It is the blood in your veins”. That’s pretty much a direct quote.  My other favorite, “which one is better? Here or America? Then there is the “What did you study” question. I say Political Science and immediately regret it. The possibility of light conversation goes out the window with these little numbers: “So, how do you feel about Syria? Do you agree with how Americans take advantage of 3^rd world countries like Ethiopia?” They are shamelessly not objective, which I surprisingly found refreshing. Instead of mulling over all the possible perspectives of each individual in the room and carefully treading lightly over potential shattered hearts, they say what they feel with such a strong conviction that you can’t help but to admire their confidence regardless of whether or not you agree with their political views.  Something I’ve noticed was the pride they have in where they come from. Many times I have heard versions of  “We don’t have much, but we have everything.” Teachers come from all over to work with kids, who have traveled from distances just as far, to love and educate, which I’ve come to learn is really the same thing. It’s an investment in someone’s future, because you care and you want the best for them. It’s beautiful!

Hmm…other things. I went to my first Ethiopian dance class. What? It was intense. They are all so good! For those of you who do not know what it is, YOUTUBE! It’s essentially an intense shaking of the shoulders and a lot of neck work. This is probably among the top 5 worst descriptions of the dance, so I urge you to look it up it you are able. It’s pretty fantastic.

I see donkey. Everywhere. The novelty of it has not yet dissipated and I doubt it ever will. I mean they are DONKEY. In the middle of the road. Like cars swerve around them. WHAT? There are also children herding goat as well and can I just say dogsondogsondogs. Who let the dogs out? Throwback! Sorry I had to. There are an insane amount of dogs here and they all look so pet-able, but I did not get the rabies shot so no touchie for me. There are sounds in the middle of the night that I have yet to make out (aside from Usher blasting all night for reasons I have yet to comprehend. I can clearly hear that). I’m really hoping they are cheetah or something, but I don’t think I’m in the right part of town for that. There are plenty of birds here, though. Seriously, like 900 species or something. Tear jerker alert: I was playing foosball (which I learned is German: foos means foot and ball meaning…well duhhh) after lunch one day and I saw a dead bird out of the corner of my eye. I buried it and made Erin, my partner, hold a little ceremony with me for our ex-fluttering friend. Other than that, it rains a lot here and power outages are no longer a cause for panic, but a multi-weekly occurrence. It’s kind of exciting actually and when paired with the rain hitting our tin roofs, a little candlelight, and some Ella Fitzgerald or Norah Jones, it can be quite cozy.  Everything is green and luscious and just stunning. I’m just loving the motherland. Running water just stops. You learn to cope and discover there are lots of things you could live without.

The scoop on my roommates: As of last post, I did not know them, but now I am happy to introduce to you Ellen and Daniela, my Austrian roommates and Ich Liebe Dich, which means I love them. Yup, I’m learning German as well. We are constantly surrounded by many different languages.  Depending on the day it can be either beautifully soothing or very excluding. I say this often, but if I could have one super power, it would be to know how to speak every language. While I do enjoy struggling through words and the feeling of satisfaction once you’ve mastered even the shortest of phrases, I often times long for the ability to just SPEAK! I’ m already excited to see where my German, Spanish, Italian, and written Amharic is in a year from now. Anyway, they are great. Dani is teaching us guitar, another short list goal as well as being able to whistle with my fingers and beast table tennis. We stumbled upon a whole stash of movies to add to the plethora of ones we’ve each brought with us from our homes. My SLMs and dear friends at home know that in my assortment of movies is the one and only LIVE FROM MADISON SQUARE GARDEN NSYNC’S NO STRINGS ATTACHED CONCERT! I’m hesitant to show my new friends the DVD because I want them to love me for who I am and not because I brought DVD gold with me. It may be too soon to introduce them to this magic just yet. I know the effect it has on people.

Speaking of boy bands, I have the ultimate confession. I really like One Direction. I don’t know how it happened, why it happened, where it happened, but I like them, as in I know the words to all of their songs. My biggest regret is that I didn’t watch the movie before coming out here. I never thought they’d get to me, but it happened. But really, it’s not such a stretch. I love all boy bands. Like a disease, they’re contagious. Like the malaria I thought I contracted. I’m sick, but it’s not malaria. It’s just a cold I think…ooh shout out to Erick Bozeman. I read your card and your picture has now made it on my wall J ***Quick explanation, my friends put together a collection of letters each stuffed into a separate envelop telling me to “open when” for a particular occasion. Erick had written one for me to open when I’m sick and I have to say it’s a large reason for why I’m still alive and kicking today. Thanks Boze.

Some highlights before I close: WE FOUND NUTELLA! It’s called “HAI” here, but if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s nutella. I also had a Snickers! You give a girl a Snickers and she eat for a day, but you show her where to buy them in town, and she eats one a day every day she’s in Ethiopia.

There is so much going on here constantly, it would be impossible to type it all out and I’m sure for those of you who have made it this far, probably out of stubbornness to finish something you’ve started especially if you’ve come all this way, are urging me to finish this already even if it means cutting off my senten…

Kidding once again. Almost done.  I was thinking about how many of my loved ones seem to be spread all over the world. I catch myself in complete disbelief when I point to pictures on my bedroom wall and say almost nonchalantly, “oh, that’s my friend. She’s in New Zealand. (S)He’s in India, South Sudan, Bolivia, Cambodia, China, Micronesia, Armenia, Jerusalem, Mongolia…” The list goes on. Whether you’re studying abroad, working, on mission, or just trying to expand your horizons, I truly commend you simply for the fact that you’re doing it. You’re there! So to family and friends, please pray, send good juju, positive vibes, whatever you can spare, in every direction. I think I can speak for all of us adventure seekers when I say we are involved in some incredible activities, but home, more importantly the people who make whatever we consider home, home, are what we miss and when it gets hard; we crave their comfort. I am blessed to have such a beautiful support system; people who remember to tell me I’m valued, missed, respected, and loved.  While we all deserve that, please send a little something extra to those away from home fulfilling or attempting to find their purpose and/or trying to make a difference to someone somewhere. You have no idea how much ease words bring especially in times of need. 

To sum things up, the amount I’ve learned in a little over a week, the love I’ve experienced, the tribulations, the second guesses, the faith, the community, the purpose, they are all things that I could’ve never generated mentally or physically from the pages of textbooks or the stories of others’ experiences. It is absolutely unique to who and where I am at this particular time and to express in words how I feel would be an injustice to all that is culminating inside of me. I will say my goals are unwavering: I’m determined to stay present, open my heart to new experiences, revel in my vulnerability, love beyond reason, and laugh uncontrollably because liberation resides in true unadulterated happiness.

Count your blessings by doing something for someone else,

Sem

 p.s. yea, there’s more. Here’s an email I received from my Dad. The laugh I enjoyed was too great not to share. Cheers to a man with a good sense of humor. My padre <3

“Hi Sem, 

It seems that you are having fun and enjoying the country and I m very happy for you.

Just to help you assimilate with the culture, I want to give you few pointers.

The donkey you are referring to is our high transportation system equivalent to a limo in the US. As a matter of fact, when I married your mother that is how I went to pick up my beautiful bride 

from her parent’s house to take her to our honeymoon suite under a big African acacia tree. I was so proud to have a fleet of 7 donkeys for my grooms. If you do not believe me, I have pictures to prove it. If others tell you otherwise (like your mother , Aunties or uncles) they are lying to you. 

So respect my limo!!!  

Next lesson will be regarding the goats, which I will send you next time.

So go explore and have fun.

Love you

Padre”