Thanksgiving 2013!

When I was told I would be placed in Asella and live there for the next two years, I was not informed of a key Asella tradition I would be responsible for continuing. The pervious three Thanksgivings, the volunteers in Asella have thrown a holiday party for all the local volunteers and friends. Last year, I was in Addis for a training and had to miss out on the fun. This year, I decided to throw caution to the wind and host my first Thanksgiving ever. That meant cooking a (hopefully) delicious meal for somewhere between 10 and 100 people (the final number was somewhere around 25 people).

While I would like to take all the credit, I had a lot of help. And by help, I mean I recruited people who are WAY more skilled at this sort of thing than me to do most of the work as I ran around and helped with anything they needed. I was everyone’s sous chef at best. But the two-day extravaganza was a success and everyone seemed to have a good time (in other words, ate to the point of nausea- the ultimate Thanksgiving goal).

The Wednesday before, everyone arrived in Asella and settled in. That evening, we went to a local park/bar/hotel/café/restaurant/theater called Universal for dinner and a show. After a round of steak sandwiches and grilled cheeses, we went into the theater that had been rented out for our purposes. Unfortunately, it took a little while to get the movie and drinks ready. But if there is one thing Peace Corps Volunteers are good at, it is killing time. Someone brought equipment for woofle ball, and since it was pretty cold outside, we just played inside. It turned into batting practice with everyone taking a turn. And god bless Ethiopia, the management just shook their heads and laughed.

Leslie's strange intimidation tactic

Hammered it!

There was a lot of discussion about what movie would be best for this situation. But while many movies were mention, in all of our hearts, we knew what movie it had to be. We all nestled into our seats, a fellow volunteer announced the drinking game rules, and we all prepared for one of the greatest films of our time: Sharknado.  It was everything we wanted it to be. The film provided great commentary about some of today’s biggest issues: man vs. nature, mankind's humanity, and whether a chainsaw works inside of a shark (it does).  But the film left us all burning with questions. The only logical thing to do was have a Q&A after the viewing.

The photo is a little unclear, so allow me to introduce our esteemed panel: (from the left) the director of the film, actress Tara Reid, and finally the executive producer.

The audience asked thought provoking questions like what was the film really saying about humanity, and how could Tara Reid and Ian Ziering have a child in its mid-twenties. The chairs used are normally only used for weddings. And since I am not entirely sure how weddings work in this country, these three may now be married.

The next day, there was work to be done since people actually wanted to eat, but that didn’t exactly stop the shenanigans. The first thing we had to do was pick up the goat and the beer, which conveniently fit into one Bajaj.

Our bajaj driver Addis is such a good sport

At around 2:00, everyone came over. It was a fun relaxing time that somehow felt like Thanksgiving back home. People played games, threw around a football, and just enjoyed each other's company. The afternoon was great- for everyone but the goat.

I’ve posted slaughter pictures before so that seems unnecessary. But there was a unique aspect to this goat. Months before Thanksgiving, fueled by whiskey and ego, my sitemate Leslie made the bold claim that because she is from Oklahoma, she could skin a goat. Abel laughed at her and said it was impossible. Thus, a slap bet was born. The idea was that if she skinned it successfully, she got to punch him in the face. If she failed, he got to slap her. I tried to tell Abel that he was too good of person to slap a girl. As slap bet commissioner, I ruled he would be allowed the transfer the slap if desired.

Leslie did a lot of research about how to skin a goat. She watched youtube videos and called her uncle (apparently a real Oklahoman). She was prepared to do it and quite confident, until she actually saw the goat. She made the mistake of talking to it and looking in its eyes. She lost some confidence but still believed that she could do it. After all, she was not responsible for killing it, just skinning it. The moment of truth came, and she made a great go of it.

Her face says it all

She went elbow deep in that thing, but ultimately, she was not able to skin it alone. I was impressed how well she actually did. As slap bet commish, I ruled that the bet was a draw, no one deserved to be slapped. But Leslie wouldn’t hear of it and told Abel to slap her. As foretold, Abel is too much of a gentleman and as Leslie braced for impact, he just gave her a pat on the cheek.

As mentioned, I had to recruit a lot of help. Abel and another friend Tilahun took care of preparing the goat. They broke down the animal and cooked it to perfection. They used something like a giant wok and prepared it all outside. First they melted down some of the fat to use as oil, and then they added the meat, onions, garlic, ginger, beer, and tons of spices. 

And don’t be fooled because it looks like a fellow PCV is helping them. After sitting there with a knife for a while, they gave him the “important” task of keeping the cat away.

The usual silliness occurred as the goat was being prepared. This time, Leslie and I made up a new game called “ball chicken”. I’m not going to explain it if you can’t figure it out.

In the kitchen, I helped Lisa prepare the other dishes. She is an amazing cook and made the (I’m going to guess) biggest pan of eggplant parmesan Ethiopia has ever seen.

In the late afternoon, everything was ready and we sat down to eat wherever we could find space. Whether they were sarcastic or not, I appreciated the oooo’s and ahhhh’s as we took the foil off of everything. In all, we had goat, eggplant parmesan, mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing two ways, and two different baked vegetable dishes. During dinner, everyone went around and said what they were thankful for. Some were more colorful than others, but the overall sentiment was everyone felt thankful for each other and that even though we're so far away from our families, we could still feel at home during the holiday.

Dessert was a team effort. Lisa made a peanut butter chocolate cake masterpiece. My friend Kristen and I made a few pumpkin pies. And a fellow PCV, Jackie, brought banana bread and a ridiculous chocolate pecan pie. Sadly, during her bus ride, the cake melted so it was a sticky mess. Since Ethiopian tradition dictates that feeding people just means you care about them, I went for it. As people came up to grab dessert, I spooned the melted pie in their mouths. I think everyone partook and since it is almost a month later, I guess no one was sick. The kids kept sneaking up to get another bite from me and while the adult in me knew it was a bad idea, I just kept giving them more and more (I did apologize to their parents for their sugar high and inevitable crash as they were leaving)

As I said, I played a minor role in this all. Lisa was an amazing cook. Abel and Tilahun killed it (pun intended) with the goat. Abel also offered up his home for this occasion. Jackie’s desserts were outrageous. Leslie made eight pounds of mashed potatoes by hand. Ultimately, the holiday turned into exactly what it is meant to be: everyone coming together from far a wide to celebrate the day and reflect how much we all have to be thankful for.

Sadly, by the time we thought to take a picture, just the forenjis and Abel were left

Ethiopian Public Transportation

Traveling in Ethiopia is a silly silly beast. Whether you’re a minibus novice or a veteran, you can never predict what is going to happen. But after a year, you learn to roll with just about anything. Goat on top of the van? No problem! Chickens under your feet? Find out where that person lives and try to get an invite to dinner! Your bus is traveling in the exact opposite direction you wanted to go? Be patient and see how it plays out!

Now I know you’re surely thinking, “I’m so sad I am never going to experience traveling in Ethiopia!” In the hope to avoid that thought weighing on you for years to come, I will attempt to give a picture of the glory that is Ethiopian public transportation.

 

This is your average minibus. It’s just like an America minivan except there are no seat belts, there may be a hole in the floor, and extra seats are crammed in every possible place. 

Seating

Where you sit will determine the emotional toll of that ride. Pick the wrong seat and it will be the worst hours of your life. Pick the right seat and it can be downright enjoyable. For the most part, I genuinely enjoy traveling. Watching the country pass me by as I listen to headphones is one of my favorite times to reflect on Ethiopia and my service as a whole. I’ve attempted to color code the seats on a bus: green is a go, yellow is cautious, and red is, for the love of god, don’t get in that seat. But let’s look a little closer.

Ethiopian traveling is a cutthroat game and I try to get seat A2 or B1 at all costs. They are the most spacious, have window access, and only allow for one person wanting to talk to you. Put on some headphones and watch the beautiful countryside pass you by.

A1 seems like it would be good too, right? Wrong! All vans here are manual so your legroom is completely taken up by the shifter. If you’re a boy with long legs, you are going to be uncomfortable. If you’re a girl, you are going to get (in what the driver’s mind is probably discreetly) caressed as the driver changes gear. Also, you are sitting on the engine so your butt will feel like it is 1,000 degrees five minutes into the drive.

B4 is rough too. If you are in a hurry and the bus is full, you may mistakenly take this seat and you will hate yourself (and your life) until mercifully the ride ends or you die in an accident (after an hour, either is better than another hour). The problem is, you are not actually sitting on a seat. There is a lip that is about 4 inches where your butt will absolutely not fit. But it must. For countless hours. You sit with your back against A2 meaning you are facing the wrong direction. As a result, this is a very common vomiting seat. To top it off, the door guy (DG) is probably going to spend the entire trip two inches from your face. Standing room is the same principle. I have seen 6 people stuffed into that little area. Just don’t do it.

Seats B-E1 on the left hand side are pretty safe. Since you are sitting up against the side of the car, they cannot make you squeeze over. The veteran move is to give yourself a secret 2 inches of space as they fill up the bus. Then you have a little wiggle room during the ride. These seats also may have window access.

B-D3 and E4 can be great or miserable depending on the legality of your bus. Technically, they are not supposed to put extra people in the bus. If you are traveling on heavily policed roads, they will keep the extra people to a minimum. And if there are no standing room people, seat E4 allows for as much legroom as a person could need. If the bus does not care about the police, you will have someone sitting on your lap. They will add a person to each row and you will be miserable. The only way to know which case it is going to be is by reading the driver, door guy, and situation as a whole. In order to have this ability, it means you have been burned a few times.

B-E2 and E3 will never be good. Ever. There is no airflow in the center of the car so it gets really hot and sweaty. You may still have someone sitting on your lap. And there are two people, one on each side, that likely want to practice their English or try to get your phone number for the duration of the ride. To be fair, sometimes people met on buses are kind and interesting- making the ride go by faster. But normally, you don’t want to play on a hot bus with no end to the ride in sight.

Windows

As mentioned, access to a window is one of the most important aspects of your trip. There is a common misconception here that wind makes people sick. Going down a rode at 60kph with the wind hitting your face is believed to give you pneumonia or TB or something awful. In actuality, airborne illnesses thrive in a closed environment so people’s misconceptions directly lead to the thing they are trying to avoid.

But I don’t care about illnesses. I should, but in that situation they are not my priority. With 20 sweaty people stuffed into a tiny space, it gets hot and smelly fast. An open window that allows wind to cool your sweaty face is nothing short of a gift from the travel gods. A2 is the only seat where you have your own window. Every other seat in the bus leaves you fighting for that precious air. And I mean fighting.

It starts off innocent (and by that I mean passive aggressive). You close it; I’m going to open it. You close it; I’m going to open it. I can play this game all day. But it escalates and the person will ask you to close it and complain to everyone on the bus about the rude forenji. But I care roughly 0%. So I tell the person “Ayzo” or “be strong”. This works for a bit. But then they slam the window shut. The trick becomes to open it up and put your arm outside the vehicle. In most cases, people will not slam it on your arm. Sometimes though, people will. It is important to stand your ground. You can ask “Is this how you treat guests?” or “Is this Ethiopian culture?” At times, that will turn the bus against your foe. But in the end, be prepared to lose an arm for fresh air. Two happy lungs are more important than two happy arms.

Neighbor Choice

Who are you going to sit next to? This is a high stakes question. You have to be able to pick out the puker. In sensitive Peace Corps tradition, there are many people who will place bets on who is going to vomit. But whether you guess right or not, as long as it is not the person next to you, you are a winner.

I try to sit next to old women. They are just the greatest. Usually their English is not the best so you only have about 5 minutes of attempting to communicate before they tire of you. Everyone on the bus respects them so you get left alone. And they usually have snacks. Not even kidding about that last bit. God bless ’em!

Mothers with their children will result in less harassment, but a higher probability of vomit. Pick your poison I suppose. Even if you guess right every time, I don’t think there is a single PCV who has not had a little vomit on their bag at some point.

For males, I have heard sitting next to a very pretty girl is the best seat- aside from the obvious reason. Coyness is an attractive feature to men here so an attractive woman (or maybe more importantly, a woman who thinks she is attractive) wont start a conversation. So it never happens. You sit in silence with a little eye candy.

I just try to avoid men between the ages of 15-40. Again, there are some wonderful exceptions here, but for the most part, it is going to be annoying. They are going to want to practice English, suddenly have to sit closer to you, and chat you up the whole. Despite your headphones and uninterested demeanor, oh how they will still chat you up!

My Two Most Ridiculous Travel Stories:

In terms of travel, I have it extremely easy. I only have to travel on paved roads and I live about 4 hours from the capital of Addis. Some people have three full days of travel to get to Addis. The stories those people have will always be better than mine, but I’m okay with not enduring what they have.

17 Hours of Fun

About six months ago, I was given the opportunity to visit the beautiful town of Bahir Dar for a Peace Corps training. Unfortunately, there was not enough money in the training budget to fly people so I agree to endure an 8-9 hour bus ride. Normally, an 8-9 hour bus ride does not warrant flying, but between myself and Bahir Dar was a gorge that has a long, sickening history of vehicular fatalities. But not only was I excited about the training, it was a chance to go to one of the nicest towns in Ethiopia (with someone else pay for it). It became clear very early in the day that the 8-9 hour trek was going to be much more than we anticipated. During the day, I kept telling myself, “I needed at least one crazy travel story from my time in Africa. Here it is.”

To combat the dangers of the road, Peace Corps bought myself, six other PCVs, and our Ethiopian counterparts tickets on a Selam bus. This luxury bus line is as close to travelling on a Grey Hound Bus as possible. Everyone has an assigned seat, the drivers are not allowed to chew chat (a local drug commonly described as a mellower version of cocaine), and they driver much slower and safer.

We left our hotel at 4:30am to get to the bus station with plenty of time to spare. After waiting in the rain, we finally boarded the bus and set off around 6:00am. Things were going well. I had never been on one of the fancy buses before and I was enjoying the atmosphere. Around 7:15, the bus pulled over. Apparently, there was some sort of problem. But no one was at their main office yet to be able to help us or send out support. Believing that at 8:00am things would start moving, we all went to breakfast and enjoy a little break. At 10:00am, things were less fun. There was no sign of help and the bus crew could not fix the problem on their own. The description we received was the back tire’s airbag was not working. I think they were referring to the shocks, maybe, but I still have no idea. One thing was certain, we could not go anywhere without the tire airbag working!

The bus company finally sent out replacement buses and they arrived after a bit. Upon seeing the replacement buses, we all knew we were in for trouble. The buses themselves were fine. Nowhere near as nice at the Selam bus, but we each had our own seat and could stretch out to be comfortable.  The problem was the bus crew. Each bus had a driver and two assistants- all of who were chewing large amounts of chat. As we pulled away from our accidental pit stop, the reckless driving started. The driver was going far too fast and it was clear he was unfamiliar with the road. During that point, it was not too concerning. But in a matter of hours, we were going to be driving on one of the most dangerous sections of road in a country that has the most car related deaths per capita in the world.

When we finally got to the gorge, all of the PCVs got serious. We were all extremely uncomfortable and felt like we were in danger. To the driver’s credit, he did slow down and we made it through without any problems. The scenery was amazing. I have never been to the Grand Canyon, but I have to assume it is just as awe-inspiring as that. The colors, layers, and vastness of it all would have made the drive enjoyable if I was not waiting for my impending death the whole time. Driving on that road, I definitely understand why it is so dangerous. It would be like driving into the Grand Canyon and then back out if the engineers decided to use as little road as possible. The result is these sharp turns that come out of nowhere. There are no guardrails so if a driver misjudges his speed, there is a good chance no one will survive. 

We all breathed a little easier once we were out of the gorge. Unfortunately, it seemed as though the driver was making up for the time he lost by slowing down. We were speeding through countryside at terrifying rates. After a few hours of this, the bus was pulled over by a police officer and given a speeding ticket. I cannot remember exactly, but the driver was going something like 70mph in a 45mph zone. Instead of learning from his mistake, it appeared the driver wanted to “stick it to the man” by driving faster. Remember that the bus crew was doped up- I’m sure this made sense to them.

After another hour or so, we hit a bump in the road and heard a loud pop and then hissing. The driver swerved a bit but managed to pull over. It felt like a tire blew out; I was just hoping the tire airbag was okay. We were all surprised to find that no one went out to assess the damage. In fact, the two assistants went to the front of the bus to confer with the driver. What appeared to be a blown out tire was actually a destroy windshield. The force of the bus hitting the bump at such a high rate of speed caused the windshield to shatter and dislodge from its secure position. At this point, we all started laughing. This had to be the most ridiculous ride ever. We began to wonder how we would get a new bus at that point. But instead, the driver and assistants decided to keep going. But as I said, the windshield was completely dislodged. So for the next 3 hours, the assistants took turns standing over the driver and holding the windshield in place.

We arrive to the town of Fanote Selam at about 6:00pm, had to transfer to a different bus (one with an intact windshield), and then finished the last three hours of our journey. We all piled into a minibus. There were probably 24 people crammed into one car. But there was nothing in the world that was going to stop us from getting to Bahir Dar before the day was over.

We arrived at our hotel around 9:00pm, pleaded with the kitchen staff to feed us, maybe showered, passed out, and we were all up and ready to go for the training at 7:00am the next day. Cause that’s how we do in Peace Corps.

Justin Bieber is Going to Get Someone Killed

Two weekends ago, I took a trip to nearby Nazret for the day. While it is only an hour and fifteen minutes away, in Ethiopia, that is enough time for anything to happen. After a huge lunch, I nestled in with two other volunteers (I believe it was seats D1-3) and fell asleep. I should mention I am notorious for falling asleep in buses. People have literally watched in disbelief as my head bangs against a window due to bumpy roads and I remain asleep. Ethiopians have made fun of me for sleeping three and a half hours of a four-hour ride. I don’t know how I don’t get things stolen from me- I must look sweet and innocent when I sleep or something.

But on this day, I woke up to the bus swerving and Justin Bieber singing “Baby, Baby, Baby, Oh” on the radio. I thought the driver was try to avoid an accident and braced for impact. When it didn’t come, I assumed we must have hit an animal or something. But we did not slow. I look up to see the man sitting in B3 leaning over the driver and grabbing at the steering wheel. Apparently, this man is trying to kill us all. “Baby, Baby, Baby, Oh” The door guy (DG) grabs the man and tries to subdue him. It does not work and the two men being fighting. I don’t mean passive aggressive window fighting; I mean a full on fistfight in our bus. And for some reason, the driver keeps going. DG gets a few good shots in and bloodies (likely breaking) crazy guy’s (CG) nose as we are travelling 80kph down the road. “Baby, Baby, Baby, Oh” Myself and the other two PCVs are yelling the Amharic equivalent of “STOP”, but to no avail.

Finally, hero guy (HG) in seat C3 gets involved. He grabs CG with a police type hold so he is no longer a threat. DG also stops beating him at this point. The bus slows and it looks as if they are going to throw him out (I know this guy almost killed us, but I was just desperately hoping they slowed the bus to a reasonable speed- I don’t want to watch CG die). “Baby, Baby, Baby, Oh” They open the door and then… shut it- with CG still in the car. We go about 200 meters further, slow down, open the door, and finally get the maniac out of the car.

It turns out CG wanted to stop, but the driver refused. The logical thing to do was obviously grab the wheel and kill everyone.  They subdued him and were going to kick him out when he said he dropped his phone during the scuffle. In the most understanding move I have ever witnessed, they closed the door, apparently found the phone, and 200 meters later, let him off. “Baby, Baby, Baby, Oh”

Before getting the actual version of the story, the three of use surmised that the driver was going to change the radio station. CG is not actually crazy- just a Belieber. He made the decision that a world where someone does not want to listen to The Biebs is not a world worth living in. The only thing to do was to take the bus into his own hands, do everyone a favor, and kill us all. I’m going to go Life of Pi on this and let you decide which story you want to believe.

 So I guess all that is left to say is, mom and dad, are you sure you want to rent a private car while you're here and miss out on the glory that is Ethiopian public transportation?

And finally...

This is probably my favorite photo from the weekend. As many holidays do, Fasika ended in a local grocery. But on this particular night, seemingly everyone I care about ended up there. From the left, Faven and Solomon- my current landlords and some of the kindest people I have ever encountered. Telahun- I honestly do not think I would be alive or still in country without him. From being a translator to being a drinking buddy, he is always there to help me with whatever I need. Yididia- one of Faven and Solomon's two daughters (that's right, it's a family place). Dagim- being Dagim. Me. Kelly. Abel- the other person I simply could not live without in this country and that is not an exaggeration. Lisa. Girma and his wife Hayrut- the owners of the fine establishment pictured. And of course, Joe- taking the picture. Always the unsung hero.  This is as close to a Peace Corps Asella family photo as there will ever be!

There was so much food!

Oh the food!

The next morning, there was yet another birthday celebration. We all sang Yididia a happy birthday and then ate some Ethiopian bread and America funfetti cake. A bit later, the serious eating began...

After dinner, we celebrated Abel's birthday. His mom, sister, and friends gathered around as the most aggressive birthday candles ever were lit. It was the end of a great day and Fasika had not even started yet. 

The Goods

Well, only a portion of the goods. Turns out goats are made almost entirely of meat.