Access Granted

Last week Ryota and I met with the school director and vice-director to clear up the confusion concerning the English Conversation Club. Before, as you know, the director was not having it, but we refused to settle with that response. During the meeting, we had the opportunity to state our case. Ryota made a good point about how teachers should work for the students and the students want this club. I agreed and I think the director did as well. I made the point about how I want the students to stop bothering me about perfecting their English (Ha, kidding. If I didn't want to help, I wouldn't be here). We talked in circles for an hour in which they kept on referring to "The Society." Adding the much needed air quotes when referring to it, I questioned how "The Society" had already formed an opinion about the club and the opportunity to inform the director of this said opinion before the students even knew about the club themselves. I apparently enjoy testing the boundaries and kept on asking who he meant by "The Society," but once again only received a vague answer. I can only conclude that "The Society" is Ethiopia's answer to America's "The Man." He probably wears a suit, too. After several articulated arguments, he told us out of the blue that we could work with the English Club already established. Confirming my already preconceived notions that we had wasted our time for the past two or so weeks when there was a clear and simple answer. Of course we will collaborate with the English Club, we actually prefer it. We left on good terms with the added bonus of him extending his appreciation for the support I have given for "The Society" in regards to HIV/AIDS. You can thank me later, future Injibara Peace Corps Volunteer.

The day after the meeting with the school directors, Ryota and I met with the English Club director to discuss our plan. He agreed to our terms. We probably should have used this avenue in the first place. But, hey, you live, learn, and then leave Africa. Yesterday we had an essay contest to help narrow down the interested students. We will have another one tomorrow, since yesterday was a holiday (surprise!) and there was no school. We will select the top students from the essay contest and then host an interview. We are not necessarily looking for the most "gobez ("smart") students, but the most motivated. It is hard to really measure that through an essay contest and interview, but it is better than having the teachers select with little to no criteria from a mass of over 4,000 students. We will start class after I return from helping train the new group of Peace Corps Volunteers that arrived almost 2 months ago. Until then, the students will wait in nail-biting anticipation to embark on this educational exploration in the world of English. Or so I like to think. Nevertheless, we got what want and that always feels good.

Access Denied

“She has no business teaching English at our school.” This is what the director of the high school told the education office head on the phone today. It wasn’t my intention to go behind the school director’s back like this, but as I realize that this is exactly what I’m doing, it is already too late. Ryota, the Japanese Peace Corps-like Volunteer who teaches Physical Education at the high school, and I are trying to start an English Conversation Club for a small group of 11th and 12th grade students. Ryota has been discussing this club with the school director for quite some time with the only result being a vague excuse and ultimate delay. I don’t understand, so I offer to go in there to talk with the director myself. Instead Ryota and I agree for me to go to the education office because the school director says this is where we need the permission to come from. I’m confused as to why anyone would deny a free service that the students are asking for. Honestly, I don’t really like teaching English, but after countless students come up and ask me to, I thought I would go ahead and give the people what they wanted. I never thought I would face resistance like this. (Maybe it is my sense of entitlement.) The director who has said verbatim, “She does not qualify to teach English because she does not have an English Teaching Certificate” obviously does not take into account that I have been reading, writing, listening, and speaking this very language for 23 years. Do I resent this? Yes. Unfortunately, yes. I do a lot of things with the high school students. I have sent students to a Summer Camp in Gonder; an opportunity they would probably never have had. I have unabashedly used a wooden penis to teach them how to properly put on a condom. I wrote a project proposal to establish a student dormitory for rural female students who are at risk for HIV. I have helped strengthen the Anti-AIDS Club. I love working with these students, but I am angry that the director has the audacity to tell me I’m not qualified to teach an English conversation class. He mentioned on the phone to the education office head that the students complained that not everyone had an opportunity to participate in my English Class that I taught last year. A class that was open to all students. A class that was offered in the morning and afternoon to help accommodate students. A class that only 6 students regularly showed up for. I’m wondering if he has a personal vendetta towards me. He may simply not like me. But then I start thinking about the next Peace Corps Volunteer who comes to replace me. Will the school director bad mouth me and refuse to work with him or her? I need to rectify this situation and it probably has to start with me apologizing for seemingly going behind his back. At this point, I don’t even want to teach the class anymore. I now just want to know why he won’t let me even if I did.


After the phone call between the eduation office head, school director, and myself, I headed back to my office. As I was angrily texting Ryota about the recent fiasco, I slipped on rocks and fell down, tearing my jeans and producing enough blood so that when the tears started flowing it covered the fact I was really crying about the situation with the English club. (I’m sensitive and I take things personally, more often than I care to admit.) But as soon as I fell, I was rescued. Just as one person figuratively pushes me on the ground, ten other people are there to literally and figuratively pick me back up.

I went back to my house, which is across the street from my office, to relax a bit. In the middle of all this nonsense, I forgot that I had told the kids at the Orphan Shelter I would come by. I go to the shelter most days of the week and when I say I will be there, I’m there. These kids have all lost a mother or father, some of them both, so I try to be a constant and predictable presence. Once I arrived on their compound, they greeted me with disarming smiles and hugs that simply said, “I’m glad you are here.” I just sat there on the compound with them, not really feeling the desire to teach them today. I realized again that some people, like these kids, like having me around and helping in whatever capacity I can. Selfishly I went to these kids for emotional support and unknowingly, they gave it to me—wholeheartedly.

In the afternoon, I met up with Ryota and we decided to meet with the school director to discuss the morning’s events and reach a conclusion about the English Conversation Club. The director told us to come over to his office. We waited for him. He finally came back to the school. He had another appointment. We waited for him. Another appointment was to be had. After an hour and half of waiting, we knocked on the door and he told us to come back on Wednesday. Thank you for that. Really, I had nothing better to do. It is a long way back to town from the high school, so in my head I’m thinking about all the things I want to say to him, hoping to get them out of my system so I won’t. The town’s crazy lady passes me. She is carrying an umbrella. Usually she would have hit me with it. Maybe it is the scowl on my face or maybe she doesn’t notice one of the only light-skinned people in town, but she keeps on walking. I have already played out the would-have-been fight sequence which involved me breaking her umbrella, but relieved that we passed each other in peace.

I go back home and read a book before I meet my friend for our weekly English lesson. I tell him that the first part of “class” would be listening. Listening to me whine about what happened today. He did, diligently. He reassured me that everyone else in the town loves me. What a good friend. I teach him at least 5 new vocabulary words per week. One of the words was “euphemism.” I taught him a couple that I had been thinking of that day…After we drank our tea and coffee, I headed home. Finally this day was nearing the end. I spotted something near my door that turned out to be an edible present with a note that read, “Don’t be disappointed!! Eat it and get better feeling. I don’t know if you like it. But I like it!! On Wednesday we’ll fight again. Haha!!” It was from Ryota. How can I possible stay angry when I have kids who would give me hugs for days, co-workers who will pick me up, friends that will listen, and fellow foreigners who leave presents at my doorstep? There are too many people in this town who show that they care in their own special way that I simply can’t. So, here’s to Wednesday!

Full Circle

A recently posted a self-congratulatory entry entitled Happy First Anniversary, Ethiopia wherein I defied my personal standards of not being in a relationship for over three months. It was a reflective piece of being here a year, lessons learned, and how I'm content. Since this is actually the longest I have ever been in a relationship, because I consider my Peace Corps experience a relationship, it was a cause for celebration…and speculation. I had absolutely no idea what it all meant. (Like does this mean we're getting married?!). Not saying that I do now, or ever, but I have had recent poignant moments where I actually realized it has yes, been a year. And no, we are probably not going to get married. Funny how life progresses as such…

For instance, last weekend some Volunteers and I all decided to share American culture and celebrate Halloween. Because, truly, what this country needs is another holiday to celebrate. Unlike my normal Halloween where I would be boozing at a party in someone's apartment wondering why girls think underwear is a costume and while boys are enjoying the scenery, we threw a near boozeless party for kids decked with a pumpkin piñata, Pin-the-Tail-On-the-Inflatable-Black-Cat, and candy that was gone before the guests showed up (hey, we don't get M&M's everyday here, and my self-control for chocolate is pretty much non-existent these days). The party had ended and while I was relaxing in my comfortable, non-sexy rendition of a rural Ethiopian woman, the memory of last year's Halloween popped into my mind in which we were in training and I dressed as a cat (and it was once again boozeless).

As a cat in 2009

As a rural Ethiopian woman in 2010

Working hard like a rural Ethiopian woman in 2010

It doesn't mean much to you, but to me it was significant, and this is my blog so I'm going to mention it. Then yesterday the little girl on my compound told me to come and eat cake. I usually don't question the offerings of sweets (even if they are strangers), but Ethiopians have yet to grasp the concept of adding sugar to their cake that I had to ask what the occasion was in order to decide if I had a "meeting" to go to a 6:30 pm. She told me it was her birthday and she was turning 6. I remembered her 5^th birthday party last year where her mom awkwardly asked the new ferenji to join the festivities so they could all stare at me and ask questions I didn't understand. And just how parents marvel at how their kids grow up too fast and then not fast enough, I was doing the same. When she turned 5, I was still an amateur at this whole gig. I was a nervous trainee doing a site visit for a week before my official move-in a month later and still not exactly sure where I fit into this community or how to take a bucket bath. Now, I have the conviction of a veteran with the audacity to take a bucket bath. I sat there at her birthday party and had a full-fledged conversation in Amharic with a guest. (Staring not included.) I had my cake and ate it too, so to speak. At the end of the night, I felt accomplished. It is a wonderful, yet rare, experience as a Volunteer to come full circle. I imagine at the end of my two year service I will have constructed a Venn diagram of sorts. Some things are the same from the beginning to end, but just like my costume I was once a "Scaredy-Cat" but now you can go ahead and call me "Habesha." (See diagram below for clarification). Look forward to me actually filling it with meaningful reflections when I'm done.