Differences In Size

I spent this past week “being” Jessie Sexton. She had to go into Addis for Close of Service medical, which means she had to miss a week of teaching, as she is in 9^th grade, which still has class until finals in a few weeks (at least that’s when we assume they are). I am done teaching and with working since I taught 10^th grade and they are done after they take their National Exams (which happened a few weeks ago). I got asked and then agreed to live in Jessie’s site for a few days and teach her classes while she was away so her students wouldn’t miss a week of English only a few weeks before their finals.

            My service has been very different than a lot of my fellow volunteers, due to the fact that my site and home for 2 years is a “big city” compared to most of Ethiopia, and definitely to the other sites that my friends call home. I have always known my experience varied in a lot of ways, through hearing stories and anecdotes from other volunteers and through the brief periods I spent visiting a few other sites, however until I walked in another volunteers shoes for 4 nights, I didn’t realize just how different our stories would be when we get home.

            The school I taught at is famous around Ethiopia. It’s where Meles Zenawi went to school, and they are extremely proud of that fact. I am not kidding when I say that I teach in Adwa and people in ADDIS have asked me if I teach at Nigiste Saba. That has become a great source of pride for me. I don’t know how the Education woreda found my house and land family, but I am extremely grateful they did. Not only have they become my second family (they always want me to tell my American family hello from my Ethiopian family), but my house is incredibly close to my school. It only takes about 5 minutes to walk from one to the other. There is a dirt hill in between that can be a bit killer (especially in the afternoon during hot season), but it’s being cobblestoned and if that’s the worst part of my home, then I’m doing ok.

            When I walk to and from school to my house it consists of dodging piles of rocks that are being turned into cobblestone, wires that are being put up for new construction, 20 something’s sitting around waiting for the technical college by my house to open, an occasional donkey or sheep, lots of horses with garries being pulled behind them, bajajas, and trucks with beer in the back (I live right by a beer distribution house). Once I get on the main road the bajajas, horses and garries, trucks and buses flying by, people on bicycles, and people hanging out on the side of the road increase. I have sidewalks where you can walk on either side and not get yelled at, and many people have conversations on the side of the road because there isn’t much danger in being hit by a car flying by.

            Walking to Jessie’s school is a completely different story. Her school is ___________ km outside of her town. Her town is small enough that it doesn’t take long to walk from one side of town from the other, or to get outside of town. There are a couple of ways to get out to her school, and if you ever have any doubt about where there is a path and where there is just fields you cut through, follow the cotton candy uniforms and heads of black hair. The walk there and back is pretty flat with no hills, however the path is not really a path, we are in Tigray which means there are lots of rocks everywhere, and the amount of animals you have to dodge is infinitely more than my own walk. When you walk to Jessie’s school you see more of the landscape surrounding the village and you also see donkeys (occasionally), sheep, goats, cattle and ox, an occasional bajaj on the main road (she now has a grand total of 5 in town!), sporadic buses flying around the bend, and lots of camels (especially on Wednesdays, which is aptly named hump day). Her walk to school and around town can be taken on side roads with rocks and dirt, or on the main road with concrete blocks as sidewalks and crumbling buildings.

            Another big difference is in the school itself. While my school is located in the city, many of my students come from around the school. I do have many that walk from the villages and come from very poor backgrounds, however I think compared to many of my fellow volunteers my students come from more privileged background and houses. My school has access to power and other resources that are not as available to other towns and schools, so my school held flag ceremony every morning and afternoon with announcements, skits, and the national anthem played over a microphone and loudspeaker. Our schedule was dictated by a bell (I would call it more of an air raid siren) that could be “rung” when a class period was over, which seemed to make things go a little smoother and made school a little more uniform.

            Jessie’s school is filled with students who have to walk immensely far to attend school. Even those who live in town still have to walk 20-30 minutes to get to the school compound, and most live in smaller villages and have to walk even farther. There are some students who come from privileged backgrounds, have new uniforms, and carry styling backpacks, but many come from less than my own students. Her school has power for the offices, however they do not have a set up like mine for flag ceremony. I saw the flag raised once during the 3 days I taught, and that involved the students singing (well really mumbling) their national anthem. There is really no way to signal period change, so class periods differ depending on different teachers watch and phone times and when a teacher decides to come interrupt or take over your class.

            There are a lot more differences depending on the size of your site. That happens no matter where in the world you live. Bigger places will just have more things. My site has Laughing Cow cheese, a bus station where you can get buses most anywhere at anytime, I feel comfortable buying a beer when I go out to eat and I go to the draft house with fellow volunteers, I have an ATM at my bank, I can get meat any day (even during fasting season), and my power and water is pretty consistent (it’s never been out for more than ½ a day at a time). In Jessie’s site there are only a few places to buy phone cards more than 50 birr, you have to stand on the side of the road when a bus passes and hope they have room and will stop to go anywhere, it’s not appropriate to drink anything as a woman besides tea, coffee, or soda, they have an “online” bank but no ATM, during fasting season it’s almost impossible to find dairy or meat, and power and water both go out for periods of time (she went 5 months without water).

            After reading through this, you might think, “How do people live in small towns? A bigger town sounds so much better.” In some ways you are right. I have enjoyed not having to dodge camel poop and ox on my way to school, I like being able to catch a bus whenever I want, and having power is pretty great. But for all the benefits of a bigger town, I sometimes feel like I lost out on some of “authentic-ness” that comes with smaller towns. I made a name for myself in my small community in Adwa. The kids around my house and school know me and the suk owners welcome me. I’m invited to buna, weddings, and food in my little part of the city, but when I walk outside of my little bubble to the other side of town I’m still called firenji, money, and China. There are many parts of my town I have never stepped foot in, and those that I have I don’t feel like it’s really my home.

            My friends in small sites seem to know everyone in their town. No matter where in the town borders they walk, everyone seems to know them. They are invited to buna, food, and weddings by people who live in the villages outside their town. You can climb up a hill and view their entire town, and chances are they will run into a child they know on the way up. When you walk around town, you will be called their name, even if you look nothing alike, because they have become such a figurehead. Yes, they might still get firenji, money, and China and yes, they don’t know everyone within walking distance, but their expectations for their community and what they have experienced is very different from my own.

            Like I said earlier, the differences in size are enormous. Jessie’s site is about an hour and a half from mine and yet our experiences are vastly different. We visit each other’s sites enough that people in my town know her and vice versa. She is still on the main road and her town is big compared to many others. And yet, our stories and lives have been shaped by our unique experiences in the towns we were placed in. I did enjoy my service in a large town and I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Harassment was tough sometimes, being anonymous or being the foreigner all the time could be difficult, and it’s still a hard place to serve, but I truly enjoyed my town. You ask volunteers who serve in smaller sites and ask them the best and worst parts and their answers will be much different than mine. We all face different issues and hardships, but we also have many great moments that also vary. We all have those things that make our service feel worthwhile, successful, and make us smile.

            Our service might be easy or hard depending on the day, and our experiences may differ drastically. My stories I tell when I get home will be much different than Jessie’s or anyone else in a smaller site. I might not have to hope over rocks and rivers to get to school, I might live right next to my students, and I might have Wi-Fi in town, but my experience is just as authentic as anyone else’s. I might tell a different one than someone else, but in many ways my life has been the same. No matter the size of a site, every Peace Corps Volunteer is going to have a life changing experience and our past 2 years will be one of exploration, learning, and growth—no matter where we are.