Ferenjiville

If you were Ethiopian, you would tell me, “tafash, anchi!” This all too common and often inappropriate phrase means, “You have disappeared!” Sometimes it is warranted; most of the time I saw them earlier that day. In this case, I deserve it. Last time I told you I would talk about my Christmas in the South, specifically the Omo Valley. All I can say is if you are thinking about venturing down to the Omo Valley, ask me about it first. Other than that, Christmas was so….last year.

For the next year, my community is going to have an influx of ferenjis. They are coming from Japan, Mexico, Italy, and good ol'  'Murica. I’m thinking about forming a mock UN as a side project with all the nationalities Injibara is soon to host. 

There does come a time to have your last traditional coffee ceremony, which I'll be soon preparing myself to do. One of my good Japanese friends that works for JICA just left. I was there when he said his goodbyes to the friends he has made. Japanese are notorious for hiding their emotions, as are Ethiopians. I’m not. All I know is if he cried, I’m going to hyperventilate, fall down on my knees, and ask “Whhhhyyy?” like Cee-Lo (not for the same reasons)...at least. So, we lost one and then gained two. Two female Italians to be specific. They are working with an Italian NGO called CVM. I’ve worked considerably with CVM, including teaching at the orphan shelter and trying to establish a rural female student dormitory for the high school. I met the new Italian volunteers for the first time yesterday. On our way to lunch, I asked what they wanted to eat just to be considerate. There are approximately 100 restaurants in town all serving the same thing. So what I should have asked is, do you want injera…or injera? There are a couple of places that serve pasta. Just that, pasta with a scoop of oil. As I suggested that dish in vain, she looked at me with apologetic eyes and said, “I could probably make pasta better at my home.” Yes…you’re right…you’re Italian. Things kept on getting awkward from there.

I consider myself a socially competent individual. I would go so far and say I can strike up and continue a decent conversation. After that lunch, I need to reevaluate myself and the outlook does not look good. After living in Ethiopia for almost a year and a half and working mostly with novice English speakers, I’ve picked up some great phrases like, “Are you fine?,” “I appreciate you,” "How do you get the air condition?," "Are you comfort?, “Get in,” “Well. Come,” “Well stay,” and “Where are you go?” Actually the latter still irks me, but the rest seem to roll off my tongue. They are still learning and trying, but I have no such excuse. I have come to doubt myself when talking with other English speakers, wondering if I’ve just butchered my native language. In a recent conversation someone from South America asked where I was from. My answer, “America.” I promptly began hitting my head against the nearest wall. Whether or not she was shaking her head at me or it was my brain rattling inside my skull after my self-inflicted injury, is something left better to the unknown. In the near future, I can look forward to having these types of encounters with 2 JICA volunteers, 4 Mexican nuns who will run an orphanage, and 3 Peace Corps Volunteers working in the Education and Health sectors, all in the comfort of the town I’ve come to cherish.

Before the new PCVs come to Injibara, the Peace Corps staff comes here and does something called “site development.” This is where we talk to office heads and arrange agreements, find housing, and assess the overall suitability for a volunteer. It’s been fun being able to show off where I live, work, and play. However, it is usually right after I rave about how awesome Injibara is that the beggars, town crazies, and rambunctious children come out of the woodwork to ask for money, throw rocks, and shout “China,” respectively. I find myself asking these outliers, “Are you fine? This is not comfort because you are making me look bad. I want the Peace Corps staff to appreciate you and have a well stay. We are from America.” Guess I’m already there. My Amharic? Much worse.