Ethiopian Easter aka Holiday of Meat Sweats

After 55 arduous days of me pretending to be fasting and many Ethiopians actually doing so, Easter arrived. Going without milk, eggs, and meat for that long really causes one to binge on these said items. It was barely even Sunday before they got going—3 AM to be exact. While I was sleeping soundly counting sheep, in real life they were being slaughtered as an offering and later to be eaten. The day before almost everyone and their kids were dragging their sheep on leashes or carrying their chickens by their feet. On Easter day, no clucking or 'baah'-ing could be heard. It was almost an eerie silence. If I had to compare it to any holiday in America, it would Christmas. It was absolute mayhem on Easter Eve (if you will), then complete silence on Easter Day. Prices went up, people got crazy, streets were flooded with eager celebrators, and there were crowds at the local shops and markets to buy things (not toys, but grass for coffee ceremonies). Smells like Christmas to me. However, the meaning and day of Easter in Ethiopia is the same as in America, unlike Christmas, as I understand it.

Wanting to integrate, I decided to make plans with several families so I could be a part of the festivities. Even though my first phone call to eat "Ethiopian doro wat (spicy chicken stew with hard boiled eggs)" was at 5 AM, I managed to stave off these requests until 8 AM. As I mentioned before, Ethiopians have excellent hospitality. I think I was still greeting people at the first house while a plate full of meat was being prepared at the next one. It's not like I have never eaten meat for breakfast. Just like a lot of people, I enjoy my occasional strip of bacon or smokey link (that's what my dad calls them). Sometimes I even have breakfast for dinner, but this was more like dinner for breakfast. Needless to say, I managed to stomach it. To wash it all down, I had tela. Ethiopians describe tela as "local beer." I call it either dirty juice or black water. It is made out of barley, spices, and some other unidentifiable matter. Consistency is not its strong point, but it has alcohol in it (plus). Before I realized it, I had a chicken leg in one hand and tela in the other, all before it was 9 AM. This would be comparable to a typical college football tailgating experience. With this, I gained a new confidence and told them to keep the spicy stew and local beer coming. This continued for much of the rest of the day. I was in sort of a walking trance. After 7 hours of watching three sheep meet their fate (RIP Betsy, Duke, and Fluffernut), eating them, carousing, and sweating (meat sweats, that is), I managed to stagger back to my house without being invited into a stranger's home to eat once again (please…no…more). The rest of the night was a blur.

In the wee hours of the next morning, my landlord knocked on my door to replay the events of yesterday. I mentally prepared for the possibilities of what they may serve me, cried a little, and then put on my jacket simply because I can't be rude and not accept the invitation. Lo and behold, it was meat. Yum. This time I got to wash it down with honey water (it made my stomach burn less). I mentioned to my landlord how I heard a sheep on the compound and asked if that was what I was eating. Nope, this was chicken. The sheep is for tomorrow and a cow possibly the day after that. I had to excuse myself to cry a little more. I guess these are the type of sacrifices (pun intended?!) I make in order to adapt into Ethiopian culture. Things could be more intense and dangerous. With that said, bring on the tela. Round 3 and beyond, here I come.

The Road Less Paved

The other week we had In-Service Training (IST) in Sodere. Sodere is the place where monkeys and Addis Ababians vacation, as well as Peace Corps Volunteers. It is nice area with hot springs, which is not so nice when I tried to get a morning work out. There is a reason why the manufacturers advise against exercising in hot tubs (…learned that the hard way). IST was fun though. We all got to see each other, which is always a pleasure. We also learned some helpful things that will help us be more effective or just effective in general. The food was decent too. Can't really go wrong with french fries.

After that week was over, a friend and I decided to accompany another volunteer down South to her site since she had been having a hard time. It takes two and a half days to get to her house. That is two and half days using public transportation. I have noted my fear and apprehension with in-country traveling, but I have become accustomed. I wouldn't say I enjoy it, but I am finding the humor in it. Most of the roads we traveled on were unpaved. Thus I was constantly regretting not double layering my sports bra (or just wearing all of them in that case). I also wondered why I ever complained about our annual road trips to North Carolina to our family reunions. What I would give for leg space, open windows, beef jerky and juice boxes, and on demand pit stops because I didn't have any of that for the whole week. We would literally get into town, go to sleep, wake up at 4 am and do it all over again. I like being on the go and moreover, I like adventure. We experienced it all, from flat tires, group singing with the passengers, arguments with the bus driver to get going already or to give us a fair price, rushing to get seats, filming documentary segments, Ethiopian staring contests, unwelcomed conversations, and so on. That was only the bus. We managed to visit six different places and dropped off friends on the way. Most of the days were filled with walking around town sight-seeing or riding in a bus and the nights ended in dance parties, which I always enjoy. Towards the end of the trip was one of the volunteer's birthday party. Other volunteers met us there and like usual, we danced the night away. So much so, that my friend borrowed my cell phone as a light to use the bathroom and subsequently dropped it down the latrine. He made a valiant effort to retrieve it, but to no avail. Another one bites the dust (or human waste in this case…gross). The last stop was in Debre Markos or as we call it, Club Peace Corps. We wined and dined—a great way to end an action-packed, sleepless, and bumpy adventure. If you asked me during the trip how it was I would tell you the only reason why I am enduring this is because I love and care about my friend, but in retrospect, it was quite fun.

After all this pandemonium, I came home. I was eager to get there. It really felt like home too. People actually noticed my absence, which was a bonus. After two weeks on the go, it was nice to be able to snuggle with my pillow (my most prized possession here) and wake up after the sun does. Since then, I have been busy trying to find work. I have met with several people. In the near future, I will be teaching English classes to high school students and a HIV/AIDS education course to primary students. I also have met with one of the PLWHA (People Living with HIV/AIDS) organization and there are talks about starting IGAs (Income Generating Activity). I have already become aware of many barriers that come in the way of starting programs in the town. Maintaining motivation will be the key. We will see how it all goes!