Musings during MSC

I have this habit of finding lessons learned in every experience and moment. I started this when I realized it was easier to try and list lessons that I learned, even when it seemed there were none, then trying to find light of a situation when there is none. Since coming to Peace Corps I have been placed in many moments when I just have to remember that every situation has a lesson to be learned, even when they may seem impossible to see at the time. Then there are bits when lessons seem to just appear and there are too many to count. Trainings are those bits for me. Trainings are fabulous, because it gives my group a chance to come together and not only brainstorm and discuss what we have gone through and where we are going next, but more of just a chance to chill and hang out with potentially the only people who will ever understand what crazy, emotional journey you are on. After getting back to site I was able to reflect on the past week at MSC and I drew some conclusions about my service, my group, and myself half way through our service. Here are the Top 5 that I came up with (in no particular order):

Struggles are in many ways unique, but there is also a shared union that is almost never identified unless put together.

I came to MSC with a bit of a grudge towards my community. Not that my first year was bad by any means, but I was struggling with how to feel truly a part of it. I felt like I had done a good job on integrating for myself, however I also saw how other volunteers were integrating and working, and I felt like a failure at many points. Should I blame myself for not starting programs, or an outside source? I think it’s a shared blame in many respects, but it’s easier to push that on someone else instead of taking control of your own life. It’s much easier for me to put blame on my Director for not giving me a classroom for my club than it is for me to push myself to take control and find a space for it, instead I did a lot of giving up and shrinking back to my comfort zone my first year.

That is just my professional struggle in the classroom, putting blame on the school system, the tests, the grading, the other teachers, or the students. In many ways there is a reasoning there, but I came to MSC with a sense that I was the only one dealing with these problems. This doesn’t even address the issues I deal with socially and culturally such as harassment and being a white woman in this society. I came to MSC with a bit of a chip on my shoulder, only having heard stories from my close friends of their struggles. I came wanting to know what everyone else was dealing with at site.

I know it’s dangerous to compare services, but I was curious to see what others stories consisted of. What I discovered during our formal sharing sessions and our informal eating and drinking sessions is that in many ways all our experiences are common. Most girls have dealt with the same harassment I have, to differing degrees. Most guys have all dealt the same “macho male” stereotype they then have to break. All the people in my group have struggled with classroom management, inefficiency of clubs, and how to balance what we were sent here to do with what is humanly possible.

We held a gender fishbowl to discuss gender issues at our sites and when I sat there and listened to my fellow volunteers I realized just how unique each of our situations are, yet how similar they are to what others in other countries experience. I can not say I have had the exact situation on the street or in the teachers lounge as a fellow G11 volunteer, but I can sympathize more than someone serving in a different country or someone back home. It’s crazy how similar yet different experiences can be, and how we interact with them.

            Because I am geographically close to only a few volunteers and unless I make a conscious effort to talk to someone, there is a chance I will not interact with many of the volunteers in my group until COS conference in another 9 months. That is the same span of time between IST and MSC. This means that I probably won’t interact with more struggles of my fellow group members until we are almost done. Our experience as a whole group is a big puzzle with each person holding a piece of the puzzle. It can move and change with people and numbers, but it continues to stay a whole puzzle. Each of us has a unique experience with different struggles and triumphs, but they all fit in a way that only the other puzzle pieces quite get.

Peace Corps service can be summed up in elevator speech anecdotes that range from side splitting hilarious to grab a tissue sad.

I realized this a little while I was visiting home this past summer, but it really came to be noticed during MSC week. While I was home people would ask me about my service and I had to give them short little anecdotes about my time a year in. However, many of my stories fell flat because no matter how much I might find them hilarious or sad, with no cultural context they are just words coming out of someone’s mouth.

We had a session during MSC called “Introduction to 3^rd Goal” which is sharing Ethiopian culture with Americans. This was basically a chance to get up and share a funny or inspirational story about your service. It was a light-hearted hour and a half session where I got to sit and hear stories from my fellow volunteers about their year so far. I understand that it’s almost impossible to pick 1 story to tell. How do you explain all the weird, quirky, annoying, sad things that happen every day in our lives? How do you pick 1 or 2 stories that show your life at site every day when there are probably 11 or 12?

During lunch and dinner you sit together and discuss the day or the night, but those stories almost always come back to site and the random little happenings because that’s been your life for a year and you finally have a chance to tell them to someone other than your best friend that has heard them a million times already. Especially sitting with people you don’t normally sit next to or talk to gives you a chance to hear and laugh and sympathize with other stories. Sometimes they are so similar to yours, and other times you can’t even imagine how that occurred. Then it’s your turn, and you get to dazzle the table with a 2-minute story of getting gorshed, a wedding, or almost getting run over by an ox.

Your stories might not always be funny or quirky, they could be a story of struggle or anger or sadness, because our service is full of those as well. You may choose not to share those to anyone other than family or friends, or not at all. It’s much easier to get through laughter than tears, but those stories do exist and sometimes the anecdotes are the easiest and most painless to get through. It’s good to start practicing those stories at MSC, even with a year left before going back stateside, so you know how to tell the stories your life is made of without having them fall flat with friends and family.

It’s your choice whether to look back with pessimism or look forward with optimism.

As I already mentioned, everyone in my group had struggles this first year. I don’t even think the most optimistic and happy person came in without feeling defeated in some part of their service. Whether it’s just feeling like it’s been a long time, to getting sick, to missing home, to feeling like you failed your students, school, or neighborhood, or something more serious with harassment or safety. I came in feeling defeated in many ways and after hearing people in my groups success stories I felt even more defeated. I couldn’t even start an English club and there are people with 4 clubs going every week, how do I feel good about my service so far with that on my plate?

But then after discussing the past year and the next year, I realized that in many ways I’m at a better place emotionally than some of my fellow volunteers. Although I have had struggles, I am willing and ready to move past them and I’m using my past year as a chance to really grow and change for my next year in service. This is the difference between some of my fellow group members and myself. We came into country with 69 people and because of various reasons we came to MSC with 50. I hope that number sticks to COS conference, but I’m very aware it won’t.

I have never seriously considered going home and ET’ing. I have had days that have been a struggle enough for me to consider it for a brief moment, but every time I do, I sleep on it, talk it out, cry it out, and then realize that I’m gaining things from being here that outweigh the easiness of going home. This journey isn’t for everyone, and if you are struggling to the point where you are unhappy every day, then I think it is admirable to leave. We were talking about why people stay when they are suffering and a lot of people talked about pride. I understand that completely, but I also think your mental and physical health needs to come first.

For me, my physical and mental health is not in the balance serving here. I have my difficult days, but I am also loving my service. I have so many random elevator moments and anecdotes that make up for the hardships I face. I wrote a letter to myself during PST that we opened during MSC and I wrote “I look to the future with a cup of optimism and a spoonful of realism”, and I think that’s so true. I am looking forward to my next year with optimism and what projects I want to do, along with some realism of what I can actually do. However, I refuse to look back on my service with pessimism, only the reminder of lessons I have learned to help me on my next year.

Being the guinea pig group is more work for you, but the following groups will benefit greatly.

Much of this week was reflection on what we have learned the past year in the classroom and what would have been helpful for ourselves. G11 was the pilot program, or as we call ourselves the guinea pigs of this PELLE program in Ethiopia. Basically meaning they threw us into training and teaching with no real idea of how it would work. The Peace Corps Education team did an incredible job with what they were given, but with absolutely no feedback it was impossible to design trainings and materials until they got feedback. We are that feedback.

This meant that many of our sessions were not developing ideas and materials for our own group, but they are giving our successes and failures to the education team to give to the groups that follow. There were quite a few times during sessions where I think we all felt a little used and annoyed. I mean, we went through the struggles of having not much, why can’t the other groups do the same thing? But then we realized how much better the program would be and how much more we could help other students and teachers by giving them our materials and helping develop the program through our own experiences.

Many of the sessions were gathering material goods as well as ideas and improvements. They heard our complaints about Peace Corps and Ethiopia and they took our suggestions about what we thought could be improved. The Education team then asked us to provide a range of sources that could be used for future groups. That means that most of what we developed and built on this week won’t be used for us. We are a year in and only have 1 more teaching school year. We won’t benefit directly from what we gave this week. But, we left knowing that we are an invaluable asset to Peace Corps Ethiopia and the Education team, because we gave them our knowledge and experiences to start building the program to an even better place.

Appreciation when given is the most powerful motivator.

            Appreciation is something that isn’t given or shown enough. When you are alone at site, you might hear appreciation from people in your community, but rarely from fellow volunteers. You might from your friends that you talk to all the time, or sporadically from a random volunteer who has a good heart. But overall, your service might go unnoticed, or at least that’s how you feel. We have an incredible Education Program team that works so hard and their work often goes unnoticed. When we are having difficulties we tend to take it out on them, even though they don’t deserve it. Sometimes our appreciation of them as people and workers goes unaccounted for, so it’s nice to come together and give them a round of applause and thank them in person for working so hard for us everyday, even when we don’t show them how much it means to us.

            The last day of MSC we did an appreciation showing activity where half of us sat in chairs in a circle and closed our eyes, the other half stood on the outside. Our Program Director would read a sentence such as “This person makes me laugh” or “This person is always there for me” and the people on the outside would walk around the circle. When you got to a person who that sentence applied to you touched that person on the shoulder. I was sitting down first and was pleasantly surprised and touched to receive so many shoulder touches. I was half expecting that everyone touched everyone and that maybe I wasn’t that special, but when I was the one doing the touching I didn’t in fact touch everyone. I did want to show my appreciation to those that have helped me through, but I didn’t touch their shoulder if I didn’t think it applied to them. It was good that their eyes were closed so that it was completely anonymous.

            This is such a simple activity and one that I didn’t think would mean that much, but I realized that it actually really touched me. I think as volunteers we lose some of that human connection when we don’t have it for so long. American and Ethiopian cultures show appreciation in different ways, and so when you are away from the American appreciation for so long, it begins to take a toll. Every person is doing great work, but unless you are told that and how great of a person you are, then you might begin to lose that drive and motivation you came in with.

            I don’t know who touched me on the shoulder for those words of encouragement, and I don’t know exactly whose lives I have touched for the better, but I do know that I came back to site realizing how appreciated I am. I don’t talk to most of my group, and we don’t hang out altogether even when we are altogether, but I think we have a deep appreciation for everyone else, even if we don’t show it. I might not agree or get along with each and every volunteer. But like the puzzle pieces of struggle, we make up our group and we understand each other more than anyone else. I might not talk to a lot of these people when we get back to the US, but we have a bond that is stronger than most anyone else. And our appreciation for each other and the staff is something that’s always there, if not always shown.

How Do You Measure A Year?

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes,

Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear.

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes,

How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee

In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.

In five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes,

How do you measure a year in the life?

How about love, how about love, how about love?

Measure in love. Seasons of love, seasons of love.

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes,

Five hundred twenty five thousand journeys to plan

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure the life of a woman or a man?

In truths that she learned or in times that he cried.

In bridges he burned or the way that she died.

It’s time now to sing out though the story never ends

Let’s celebrate, remember a year in the life of friends.

Remember the life, (Oh you’ve got to, you’ve got to remember the life)

You know that love is a gift from up above.

Share love, head the love, spread love.

Measure your life in love

Seasons in love

When trying to decide how to mark a year as a sworn in Peace Corps Volunteer and being at site for a year, I thought of all the cheesy things I could use to help me express my past year. For my 6 months at site I marked it with 6 quotes that have helped me along the way, and with a year in country I marked it with a celebration of my dads and brothers trip to Ethiopia. To many back home, this year marker isn’t that big, because I left in July so to my family and friends, the year in country was a bigger deal to them. Their way of measuring how long I have been gone is different than how I measure it. However, for me those first 2.5 months in country in training were not as special to me. Sure, I learned a lot, experienced a lot, and made friends, but to me that was like riding a bike with the training wheels still on. My freedom and excitement really began once the training wheels came off and I had the freedom to go to new places all by myself.

RENT will always be one of my favorite musicals, and this song has a lot to do with it. I find sappy songs put to pictures to be extremely powerful, and I get goosebumps whenever I listen to this song and look back at my past. This song truly gives you an idea of what a year can hold. A January-December calendar year can be impressive, but sometimes 365 days from a certain date gives you more importance than New Years Eve and Day (especially when where you live celebrates a different New Years than the rest of the world!) I have taken a lot of pictures since getting to country and site, and looking back at those with this song playing gives me an even greater sense of what I have accomplished this year- as well as a reminder of what I have gained.

So, how do I measure my past year? With love and clips from RENT of course.

“In daylights”: I was privileged to grow up in New Mexico with some of the most gorgeous sunsets in the world, although I never fully grasped how lucky I was until I started waking up without those and the Sandia mountains. I am lucky, however to live in a place where the mountains, daylights, and sunsets are beautiful as well. They will never fully be home to me, but the landscape in Tigray reminds me enough of the 505, that I feel blessed to live in a place such as this. I climbed to the top of the mountain by my site a few months in, and although the treks up and back were awful, the view from above took my breath away. It was gorgeous, and pictures don’t do it justice. A few days ago I visited an orphanage in a nearby site and we climbed by a gorge and after rainy season it is green and lush and has a waterfall. South Ethiopia is known for their green and water, not the North, so to see colors as vivid as that by my site was spectacular. I don’t think I had ever felt such a sense of God’s creation until that moment.

“In sunsets”: I live on the top of a hill, and when I am outside my compound and walking home in the evening with the cool breeze as the sun is setting I feel safe and comfortable and I am glad to be living in this place, even on the hard days. God’s creation and sense of beauty really is all around, you just have to open your eyes and look. I can look back on my time in Ethiopia and count the number of days, as well as the number of nights. Some are difficult, some very meaningful. No matter how my day was spent however, it always ends with a sunset. A sunset marks the ending of a day, before the sunrise marks a fresh beginning. Sunsets remind me that no matter where in the world I am, no matter what the circumstances, there is a chance to start over with a fresh attitude and spirit at anytime.

“In midnights”: My bathroom is outside my room, and so occasionally when I have to make the few steps to the bathroom outside in the middle of the night I always have a sense that I’m going to run into something living, although I never have. I did walk into the shint bet and see a half eaten rat on the ground, but I would much prefer that to a live one. That’s just one of the many joys I get to deal with living in Ethiopia. It might seem like a terrifying story to someone back home, but to me and other fellow volunteers it’s just another laugh and anecdote to tell later. I grew up in the city, so I rarely had a chance to see the moon and stars to their fullest extent. Looking up at the stars and moon on those evenings at 2am (not exactly midnight, I know), it gives me a sense of just how small I am in the universe, but how much there is to explore and learn. It also reminds me that no matter where in the world I am, my friends and family are looking up at the same moon, and I feel that connection that I miss over here during the day.

“In cups of coffee”: In cups of coffee is made for Ethiopia. My days here are not complete without a coffee ceremony or at least a cup of coffee at a restaurant or café. Their coffee is more than a drink, it’s an experience. A coffee ceremony can last hours, but the chatter, laughter, and experience of that is something I have come to cherish and look forward to in this culture. In a year (or less than that) when I head home, I already know the buna ceremony is what I will miss the most. The random coffee invitations are what binds my memories together. I was a coffee drinker in the US, but it was out of convenience and need—student teaching, pulling all nighters, or “coffee dates” at Starbucks. I didn’t appreciate good coffee, I just appreciated the jolt and energy it gave me to keep me running from one thing to another. I got to Ethiopia and coffee began to have the opposite effect on me. Coffee to me is no longer something I use to go faster, it’s something I use to slow down and enjoy life. Holidays here aren’t complete without at least 2 buna ceremonies, it’s not a typical day without being invited to someone’s house for buna, and it’s normal to walk past at least 10 girls serving coffee on the side of the road to men on their breaks. Coffee in a lot of ways sums up my experience in Ethiopia. It’s the same everywhere, but the sense of what it holds and what it means is different. I have a new appreciation for the sense of community Ethiopia has, and the coffee ceremony is just one way that’s displayed.

“In inches”: Kids here run in bare feet all the time. It took me awhile to adjust my mindset to the fact that kids as little as 3 can run around neighborhoods and streets with no shoes or pants on and no parents in sight and that be totally ok. Driving through mountains there are kids seemingly hanging off the side of the mountains in the same position, and it’s accepted. If they are wearing shoes, they wear the jellies that the adults wear as well. Ethiopians are known for their track and field experience and being fast runners. We joke that they would do even better if you give them a pair of jellies, not track shoes. They might walk slowly on the street, but they can carry more than their body weight up a hill with jelly plastic shoes in 2 seconds, when I’m walking myself in shoes supposedly meant for the outdoors and I’m only half way up. I have learned here to always be surprised. Kids and adults here are capable of more than I ever thought possible. They are a mixture of clichés, and they embrace their differences. Their strength of walking from villages with straw or sticks on their backs, their joy of running with metal toys down a hill, or walking painfully slowly down the street, they do what needs to be done in the fashion they see fit—even if it’s different than what I expect. Their lives are measured by taking life inch by inch, whether barefoot or in plastic jellies.

“In miles”: Distances are measured here in kilometers, not inches and miles. There are rare signs on the road telling you how far a town or city is from where you are, you generally just drive on the road until you get to your destination. Roads here are perilous, with many accidents happening with cars, buses, animals, and people. Fellow volunteers have been in bus accidents, and I have a fellow teacher who died on the road. Riding in a mini bus (or a big bus), you always say a little prayer before the driver starts moving. They cram more people than you ever thought possible into the buses, they overcharge most of the time, Ethiopians close all the windows, even when one of them gets sick which is almost inevitable. Goats, sheep, cows, donkeys, and occasionally people wander into the road and drivers swerve not to hit them. Drives can be up to more than double what they should be depending on the driver, the bus station, and your fellow passengers. However, on the rare moments when the bus is smooth, it is great to look out onto the countryside and see the beauty that people think of when they think of Africa. No place in the country is easy to get to which can make it difficult to see the country I live in, but sometimes the journey is the most interesting part.

“In laughter”: I have had more laughter than I thought possible. On the hard days when I haven’t laughed it can be difficult to remember how to smile, but sometimes the most random things happen to make me smile and laugh. Whether it’s my fellow volunteers, my students, my compound and neighborhood kids, a good bit of media, or just a random sighting or moment, my time here in Adwa can be remembered with a lot of laughter. I have found a second family in my compound family here. I live in a compound inside of a compound, with the larger one holding many families, all with young kids who I have come to claim as “mine”. They run up to me with the biggest smiles and arms open to be twirled every time I see them. They can make me smile even on my hardest days, and taking selfies with them is the funniest thing to orchestrate. My land ladies are the sweetest people I have ever had the privilege to meet, and they have adopted me as another daughter. Sharing coffee with them, or just talking with them when I’m doing laundry or reading makes for a truly special experience.

“In strife”: I have had my fair share of both of these this past year, although I don’t know if strife would be the right word. I have gotten along with pretty much everyone at my site, and those I have not great feelings towards I tend to ignore, not cause strife. I have had difficulties with people and situations, and I have felt like wanting to give up on multiple occasions. I tend to write my happy moments, but only my friends here and my journals know exactly all my hardships. However, I try to take them as learning points and to make myself a stronger person. I have yet to be put in an uncomfortable position with men in my town, but I have friends who have gone through more than anyone deserves. I think the hardest part of seeing them go through those struggles is knowing I can’t do anything to help them. I can be there for support, and that’s about it. These situations might happen in America, but it’s a lot easier to escape from a situation, person, or feelings when you can drive elsewhere, choose to not see that person, or have a coping mechanism. Being here can be extremely difficult to deal with any hardship, without that escape route. The past year has shown me that it’s essential to choose how to handle those hardships and strife, and that it’s up to you to create your own sense of happiness—you can’t depend on anything or anyone else.

“In truths that she learned”: I am learning a lot about myself since getting to site. In high school and college I always kept myself busy, so I never had much time to do self-reflection and I was surrounded by people who I tried to emulate. However, being at site by myself I have had a lot of time to reflect and think about myself, my past and future, as well as the relationships I have with people and life in general. The idea that I’m in a new and different situation and environment has changed me for the good and bad. I think everyone in Peace Corps can agree that already a year into site and they are not the same people they came in as. Parts of our personalities become more pronounced as we deal with different things than we ever had to at home. I am beginning to find truth in myself and the world around me, through reflecting and looking around in a new way. I am also really beginning to understand how similar and yet different humans are. In many ways all humans share the same emotions and have the same abilities. My students here are just as brilliant as my students back home, weddings here are just as happy affairs as those in America, and the same sadness is felt when a tragedy happens. However, culture plays a difference in how people interact with each other. I have had to balance how I am the same and yet different from the people I am surrounded with. I can no longer wear shorts outside my house, I don’t really smile at people on the street, and I have to watch what time I get home at night. No matter where you live, there is good and bad, but how that is perceived and treated can be different, and I am continuing to learn that every day.

“Or in times that he cried”: I have had my times of crying here. Whether it be because I’m so frustrated with my school or students, a stupid person on the street, not feeling well and being sick, or just missing my family and friends and comforts of home. I wish I could say I have a coping strategy, but sometimes curling up in bed with chocolate, a soft blanket and stuffed animal, and having a good cry is all you can do. Tears never came naturally to me in America, so it’s a weird experience that I have cried so much here. But the stress of it all and sometimes questioning what I am doing here is enough to make the tears come. As I already talked about, it’s essential in an environment like this to realize your own coping strategy and embrace it. Mine is different than a fellow PCV’s. It can be hard to cope some days, when all you want to do is leave. My students have made me cry out of frustration more times than I can count, rude people on the street leave me wanting to go home, and on the days where I just want to shut the world out but the power goes out makes me want to scream. But, it’s how you take those hardships and difficulties and remind yourself that every one of those is a learning opportunity, that really helps build you up and keeps you going—even when you don’t want to anymore.

“In bridges he burned”: I haven’t burned bridges here. I have not always gone back to organizations and connections that my old site mates made while they were here, but I have not done anything to burn their bridges for other people. I have begun to realize who from home should be in my life and who doesn’t deserve to be. Many people are supporting me through this, but I have finally accepted that those who don’t help me in my life don’t need to be in it, I don’t need to try to fit them in if they don’t want to be there, it just took me living across the world to accept that. Being away from the Internet and not having much time to interact with friends and family back home puts a strain on many relationships. I knew that I would miss engagements, weddings, births, and graduations. I didn’t realize there would be so many, or that it would take such a toll on me. I have lost touch with friends I had hoped I would continue to be in touch with. But, being in a different place has shown me who my true friends are. My family has been nothing but supportive, but I have always known I have the best. My friends who have continued to help me have really shown me how loved and blessed I am. I also didn’t realize until now how amazing it is to be a part of Chi Omega. I have gotten more support from my sisters than I thought I would ever get. Girls who I wasn’t really close to before have stepped up to lift me up, and those who I cherished before have grown closer. In many ways, this year has shown me how to build bridges stronger, not burn them.

“Or the way that she died”: Knock on wood- I have yet to be called to hear that any of my family has died while I am over here. My cousin came too close for comfort, but he is doing much better now and I am eternally grateful for that. Hearing he got in an accident and not knowing if he was going to make it was probably the most stressed and heartbroken I have ever been. Knowing he got better and improved, and then seeing him when I visited home was the most relief I have ever felt. I have yet to go to a funeral here, although I have been to many weddings (I prefer the weddings). However, I have seen the sadness that accompanies funerals, because I live right by a church. The circle of life and the idea that life is so fragile has always been apparent to me, but seeing funerals much more open here and hearing the music (they have music they play whenever someone dies) almost every day, I really get the sense that life is precious. As mentioned in “in bridges he burned”, I have truly amazing family, friends, and sisters. That being said, I think I take their friendship and support for granted. Every time I get in a mini bus (mostly) I always say a little prayer to get me to my destination safely. So far that prayer has worked. I know that death is inevitable (scary, I know…) but I hope I have a while before I have to experience that with anyone close to me, back home or here. I was in Ethiopia when 2 of my fellow Greeks at UNM died in a car crash. Although I didn’t know either of them personally, many of my close friends and fellow sisters did. Seeing the outpouring of love and support on media really made me realize how precious life is, and how sometimes only the good do die young.

“Seasons of Love” gives a great dialogue for a year, and in a lot of ways it sums up my experience here. I cannot even begin to describe everything I have experienced, learned, and seen. Pictures do some visuals justice, words do describe some moments, but generally I think my experience will stay with me. I wish I was able to have everyone walk in my shoes, to see what I have seen and learn what I have learned, but that’s sadly not possible.

My students, neighbors, and random people on the street have taught me more about life and exploration than I will ever teach them. Their sense of love, family, and fun has given me a new perspective that I will take with me forever. On the flip side, I have been shown that sometimes cultural differences can be too much and that people with bad intentions are everywhere.

I have experienced hardship that no one back home will ever understand, no matter how much I explain. Peace Corps and living here can be extremely difficult and my year hasn’t always been rosy. There have been times where I have looked around, questioned all of myself and my life decisions, and thought about calling my parents to tell them I’m coming home. I have had many days where I’m just fed up with everything and everyone and shut out the world with a book and music. There have been times where I have come very close to hitting a student or a guy at the bus station.

At the same time, my time can be summed up with random moments of laughter and excitement. I have gotten to see and learn new things that I didn’t know were possible. My compound and neighborhood kids braiding my hair and coloring in the rain, horseback riding through Ethiopian mountains, drinking coffee at 8pm, dancing in a traditional dress at a wedding, or laughing with fellow Volunteers at midnight while drinking wine. These are the random and little moments that I string together to remind me why I haven’t made that phone call and why I struggle through the hard times.

A year can’t be measured in a song, in a blog post, or even in pictures. The memories and experiences are strictly your own and will continue to stay with you. Pictures, journals, and posts help you remember your year, but a year is an experience. I sometimes struggle with how I will get through the next year, but then I remember how fast the past year went. Some days it felt impossibly long, but looking back the year seemed to fly by. Through teaching, living, and learning I know that my life will be much fuller when I am back with this year of Peace Corps in my life. Every moment is a learning experience, for good and bad. If that’s true, then my past year has held enough learning experiences to cover the rest of my life.

As the cover of my first journal I used in country says: “Life is a journey, not a destination”. Sometimes I forget that quote, and I just want to get to the end. On the hard days I close my eyes and count to when it will be the next day so I can begin again. On the good days I just want time to slow- neither of which works as I want. I am sometimes so preoccupied with getting to the end of my service, that I forget to look around and experience everything. This is my life, it doesn’t start when I get home—I’m living it now, through the good and the bed. Even in the hardest moments, my life is full of enough love from friends and family back home and people here to help me measure my year as an official Peace Corps Volunteer.

So how do I measure my first year as a Peace Corps Volunteer? In five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes full of love.

How Some Years Are More Memorable Than Others

Happy 2008! Ethiopia has a slightly different calendar system than most of the world, which means that their new year is in the middle of our September, and they are 7 years behind the rest of the world. We like to joke about how they are finally catching up with other countries, but in many ways that’s completely accurate. They are improving their infrastructure, but it’s a slow process. Hopefully in 7 years they will finally be up to pace with America and other more developed countries ;)

Back to the idea that we are now in 2008 here. Can you remember what you were doing in 2008? When I first thought about what I was going to write about for my new years blog I immediately thought of (well that’s a lie actually, Jessie gave me the idea) writing about 2008 in America and what I was doing 7 years ago. However, after having to actually count back to remember what grade I was in I realized that I could not remember a single thing that I did in 2008. How sad is that? I called Jessie to tell her that I didn’t think I could write an entire blog about that year when I can’t remember what happened. She quickly railed off some of what happened to her that year, but nothing stuck out to me.

I was in 10^th and 11^th grades (depending on what part of the year). I turned 17. I was in choir at Bosque and active in youth group at St. John’s. Besides that, I can’t say I remember anything huge happening. If I were to stalk my Facebook in 2008 I could probably find out puzzle pieces to my mysterious year, although I don’t know if I really want to relive my high school years. Not that they were bad, but I much preferred college and now “the real world”. I got a new computer my senior year of high school, so I can’t even stalk my own computer for memories. After a lot of rambling, my point is that 2008 in “firenji calendar” just wasn’t a big year for me. But I’m ok with that. Ask me in a few years and I can tell you exactly what I was doing in 2009, 2010, and beyond. Also, sorry to anyone if something big did happen in 2008 with you and I’m just blanking. I would lose my head if it wasn’t screwed on- it’s not personal.

These few days show me just how weird time and memory can be. I can’t remember an entire year, no big memories stick out. And that was only 7 years ago. However, I can remember another day 14 years ago like it was yesterday, when I was only in 4^th grade. As Ethiopians celebrate a new year coming in, new beginnings, and happiness I as an American have a harder time celebrating this day. September 11, 2001 was a day that I will always remember, no matter how many years pass. That to me is something I will never understand. How can something that happened on 1 day many years ago stick with me when an entire year seems to have passed me by?

I work with young children in the states, and when I first asked their ages and when they were born it blew my mind that they were born after September 11. I now understand my parents and grandparents when they have a hard time explaining recent history they actually lived through to those of us who haven’t. It’s surreal to explain something that is so important and vivid in your own life, but that those who were born after won’t understand, no matter how much it’s explained to them. I think every generation has their September 11. A day that has a tragedy so great they can tell you exactly where they were when they heard the horrifying news. For some it’s Pearl Harbor, the day MLK got shot, or the day JFK was assassinated. For my generation, it’s September 11, 2001.

I can tell you exactly where I was, even in 4^th grade. I was sitting in Mrs. Craft’s 4^th grade class as my classmates were discussing something that had happened on the news. My parents didn’t watch the news or listen to news radio, so I was in blissful ignorance for a time. And none of my classmates really grasped what had happened, no one really knew. Mrs. Craft came walking into class with a pasty white face and explained to us that something bad had happened in New York and that we were being let out of school to spend time with our families. My mom was a teacher, so my brother and I had to stay at school with her until all parents were contacted and kids picked up, which took a better part of the day. There was the Annual Golf Tournament that day and so many of the parents and administration were on a golf course, with cell phones limited. The phone lines were so tied up at the school that teachers were using their cell phones to get a hold of parents.

My experience was different than most others. I have friends who grew up around New York and Washington D.C. and tell a much different, sinister, and intense story because they were much closer to the action, their parents or their friends parents and families worked in the buildings that were attacked. We were half a country away and although we felt the power of the event, we had a bit of a geographical barrier. To me and many others, September 11 was just pictures and video on the TV.

My brother, mom, and I got home and my mom immediately turned on the television. I remember my brother who was in pre kindergarten at the time running around the house crying because he wanted my mom to turn the TV off. I at least knew something bad was happening, my brother had no idea of what happened, he just wanted things to be happy again like a pre-k’er does. That’s what’s great about kids, they have this sense of happiness that they want to hold onto no matter what. It’s awful however that we live in a world where bad things like this happen to take that away.

I never really grasped what happened. I think it was always something that I remembered on the news, I can still feel goosebumps on my skin as I watched the towers fall, and I can still tell you exactly where I was when I saw pictures of George W. Bush reading to kids in a classroom and getting news whispered in his ear. However, all of that can’t do justice to the extent of the tragedy and day. When I visited New York City with my mom before Ethiopia we visited Ground Zero. I regret not having spent more time just to reflect. It was powerful to see the names, the flowers, and the water. However, I was preoccupied with finding the next spot, worried about my own health, and noticing all the other tourists. It was powerful to me, but not in the sense I thought it would be.

September 11 changed the way I viewed the world. It really showed me as a 4^th grader that the world is not black and white, good and bad. It shaped the US and the world in general in ways that are still being felt. That was my first brush that I remember with evil. With people who had no visible sense of good to them. It also showed me for the first time the true sense of love and people coming together to support others. I was very proud to be an American the days following that event, because I saw the sense of community that an entire country seemed to find to support the victims of this tragedy. Since that day I have looked around and seen many more displays of this, but that event really opened my eyes.

I have also come to realize that the bad people aren’t always the people you expect. After the attacks on the twin towers, people were quick to blame an entire religion and country. I understand needing someone to blame in that moment. You are grasping for straws and need a place to place blame. But this event showed me that evil can be with victims as well, for many Americans were quick to judge and it became evident to me that good and bad are not what I thought. Bad people are also those who assume all Muslims had something to do with September 11, who sent death threats to students going to school who were head covers, who threatened anyone who had a beard and dark skin, and those who wore American flags as a “sign to the rest of the world that we would kick their butts”. Again, this is a generalization, but September 11 taught me about support, strength, and love as well as heartbreak, evil, the idea there is no clear bad and good, and that sometimes things are just too broad and big to grasp, no matter who is trying to understand it.

What does all of this have to do with Ethiopian New Year, you may ask. Well, here is the moral of this blog and something you already know: Everything is a new beginning, with the past being a memory. Some events and times are just more memorable than others. Whether that’s because something had a giant effect on your own life or because it changed the world (for good or bad). Some days, months, and years might not hold many things to remember, and that’s ok. The memories you remember might not be the best, but they are there to teach us lessons and remind us how we got here. Ethiopia is entering into 2008 with an optimism I haven’t seen in the US in years. People here believe they are improving (they are, although the extent at which they are is questionable). Obama just visited here, they are changing their infrastructure and building it, and development is continuing. 2008 is a new year for everyone here. As people around me celebrate 2008, I continue to look ahead at this next year which is full of possibilities, however I never forget to look back and remember the event that in a lot of ways shaped how I view the world and interact with the people around me.