Readjusting back.

"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard"- Winnie The Pooh.
With expected tears and a lot of deep breaths I left my home of the past 2 years this morning. My life in Adwa might have had many difficult moments, but I learned so much about myself and the world, and I'm ever grateful for the service I had, the people I met, and the place I came to call my own <3

The above quote came up on my Facebook “On This Day” a year ago. I had packed my bags absolutely full to the brims (and over the weight limit, I found out at the airport), I had eaten my last meals at my favorite restaurants in town, I had a coffee ceremony prepared for me by a student, I had celebrated a major Tigray holiday the day before with lots of food, family, pictures, and gifts, and I had said goodbye to one of my land ladies the day before when she left for Addis.



A year ago- I woke up to a completely empty room, besides the furniture my land family had lent me. I woke up before the sun, to get a bajaj to take me to a van, to take me to the airport where I would spend a couple of days in Addis before leaving the country. Leaving Ethiopia was difficult, but my connection to the country didn’t come in the capitol, it came from my town. Leaving that and those people who were my family was the hardest thing.

When I left Albuquerque, New Mexico and my blood family at the airport 2 years prior it was more difficult than words can express, but I knew I would still connect with them. I knew I would see them in a year or two. I knew that their worlds would stay about the same.

Leaving Adwa was different. I didn’t know when I would see them again, I didn’t know if they would be able to stay safe and if their lives would change. And I didn’t know whether I would be able to connect with them. I had an easier time leaving than some of my fellow G11 group members. Because of political turmoil they were evacuated from their sites, and couldn’t return to say goodbye. Saying goodbye was hard, but I got my proper goodbyes. Many of them didn’t.

I bawled when I hugged my compound family goodbye. I held back tears on every step of the plane ride back to Addis. I became more stable as I spent my last days with my Peace Corps friends laughing and drinking (oops). But then leaving the country I felt both extreme joy and sadness. Joy to see my family again and eat all the food, sadness to be leaving this place I called home for 2 years.

Having been home a year I am still trying to figure out where I belong and what I should be doing. My other friends have gotten promotions, moved, gotten married, and had babies. That’s what seems to be acceptable in someone’s 20’s. Not to say that’s not bad. My friends are all very happy. That life just isn’t for me.

When I say I did Peace Corps, everyone gets really excited to find out where I was and what I did, but that’s about as far as the conversations go. Maybe I can get a funny comment in there or a silly story, before their eyes start to glaze over. That’s what all my fellow Returned Peace Corps Volunteers face.

In the few years when we return, we are all faced with how to talk about our experience and service without boring the person listening, or without getting too emotional. We are faced with how to talk about everything we did in a line or two of a resume, and try to tie what we faced/how we dealt/how that would help us be effective in a job, in a cover letter.


This is difficult. Working abroad for any length of time is difficult. Coming back is harder. Readjusting and finding your place is harder.

Getting Facebook “On This Day” notifications, when it says “3 years ago, 2 years ago, a year ago” and it shows your status about a frustrating day, or a love-filled day, breaks my heart. When it shows a smiling or silly face selfie photo, or when it pops up with an old blog that you were really proud of. These are my difficult moments.

I miss the sense of community, the sense of calm, the sense of love. I miss 3-hour long coffee ceremonies every day, or playing soccer with random kids in my neighborhood, or a waitress knowing your breakfast order, or going to the same woman in market for veggies every week, for a land lady who feeds you food when the power goes out, of my students who drew me pictures to bring back to America, and the post office guys who stopped me on the street to tell me I had mail.



Whenever I miss that I want to get on a plane and fly back. But then I remember that not everything was sunshine and roses. That I had plenty of harassment, plenty of annoyances, plenty of down and out moments, that I wanted to come back here.

So- what’s all this rambling about? That the grass is always greener on the other side. Do I want to go back to visit, yes I do. Do I want to go back to live? Not necessarily. Adjusting back is extremely difficult—that’s been established by everyone who has ever lived abroad. It’s hard to find things in common with people you were close to before, it’s hard to find joy in things you did before, and you have a new sense of what’s really difficult and what’s trivial.

But I have to remind myself, that no matter what—my time in Ethiopia was worth it. The people are forever engrained in my heart. I made friendships with other Peace Corps Volunteers and Ethiopians. That will never change, even when I’m having a difficult time here. And that even if I can’t connect with the people I did before, I found a new group of people which I can talk to and commiserate with about our lives before, or lives there, and how to deal with being back.



As I have said again and again. Thank you. Yikanyalay. Yikanylay to Adwa. To my students, my Nigste Saba teachers, my counterpart, my land family, the kids that knew my name and would fist bump me, the waitresses that knew my order, the post office guys, and everyone who made me feel at home. Bizu, bizu, yikanyalay! <3

I Have A Dream...

People who say that all words hold the same amount of meaning have obviously never been insulted or listened to/read incredibly moving speeches. Words are sounds put together, but those sounds become attached to meaning, and that meaning becomes attached to something bigger. Anyone who has ever been called a name, insulted by words uttered, or felt threatened or hurt by another human knows the power words can have. They have the power to tear groups apart and down, they have the power to change perspectives, to harm livelihoods, and to single out individuals. They also hold the power to build groups and bring people together, to change perspectives, and to help individuals. Words are powerful, and when used properly they can bring about change in a big way [both good and bad].

            Some people know how to string those sounds and words together just right to make us think, reflect, and move. Strong writers and orators hold power that many “regular people” do not. They are called upon when times get tough to bring about perspective. In the age of instant gratification we tweet, post, and send things in the hopes of getting “likes” and feedback in that moment by as many people as possible. However, the greatest inspiration in my opinion comes from sentences that are spread through speaking, listening, and thinking.

            We have many great speechmakers in the world today and with social media and the global world connected so closely, it is easy to hear something inspirational as soon as it is said. Meryl Streep’s speech at the Golden Globes and Barack Obama’s and Michelle Obama’s speeches in the past few years are 2 prime examples of when words spread quickly to bring about quick change. However, we can also look to history to give us some of the most inspirational people who continue to shape how many of us try to live our lives.

            On this Martin Luther King Jr. day I am reminded when I log into Facebook just how many quotes that man said that could be taken any day to make me a better person. He has so many outlooks on life that can be taken every day to inspire people to be kinder, to look past appearances, and to be grateful for what you have. His most famous speech is without a doubt “I have a dream…” Do you think he knew when wrote those 4 words that they would become 4 of the most famous words in American history? Do you think he set out to change American’s views of what our country could be? I don’t think so. I think he was simply writing down his hopes, and yet because of how great of a man and how great of a speechmaker and writer he was, those 4 words changed history in many ways.

            I was always socially aware, but I tended to keep my political and social views and opinions to myself. I surround myself with like-minded people and I know whom I disagreed with, and we would stay off issues. This past year, with everything that has happened in American and in some parts of the world politics, I have found my voice and passion. This post is not about politics persay. However, the fact that 54 years after Martin Luther King Jr. gave a speech talking about how he hoped one day his children would not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character, we are about to have a President who was elected despite basically offending every group possible, continuously using hateful rhetoric to put down and exploit anyone who is not a white, straight, male (and even then, he hasn’t supported them), and who attacked a leading civil rights leader just days before MLK day. Hate crimes since he was elected have risen and many of my friends and just many Americans in general are genuinely worried for their safety and livelihoods, simply because they are different. I don’t know what exactly MLK would say if he saw America right now, but I know he would not be pleased with what he saw.

            This comes after we had our first African American president. This comes after we were moving forward in creating equal rights for people. We still had a long way to go, and there are many things that still needed fixing, but we were headed in the right direction. I take comfort in knowing that a majority of America did not agree with his rhetoric, did not find fear a comfort, and believe that everyone is in fact equal. I take comfort when I go to work with children and see that they play with each other, laugh with each other, and help each other. If they fight it’s because one took away another’s toy, they cry and then they are back to being best friends 10 minutes later. I take comfort in knowing that this generation in school now are global citizens, that they care about the rest of the world and what’s happening, and that they are preparing to be more socially aware than the generations ahead of them. I take comfort in seeing feel-good stories of  “every day people” who genuinely want the world to be a better place, helping others with anything they can, from volunteering to donating money to charities and organizations to just giving a smile and a hug to a stranger or a friend.

            Words and actions both show who a person really is. Not everyone has the power to change the world through their words like MLK, however your words are important to the people around you. And sometimes actions do speak louder than words. MLK and many others were able to change the course of history through speaking, marching, and sitting. They changed perspectives of individuals until enough individuals made groups. That is where we are at now. Your words might not shape the world for the future, but your actions can shape a friends or a strangers’ life. So instead of using your power to hurt someone, try to help them instead. You might not think you have much power, but change comes in ripples and waves, and you could be that. Change comes when someone thinks they have the power and they use that for good.

            Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream that everyone would live together side-by-side peacefully and happily. I don’t know if we will ever get there, and we certainly aren’t there now. Hatred and prejudice is still very much in the world, and it’s not going away any time soon. But even with everything bad he saw, MLK still believed of the good in people and still believed that love overcomes hate. If MLK could stand up for those, even with all the darkness he experienced, then surely we can too. So in the times of darkness, it’s useful to look to inspirational people like Martin Luther King Jr. along with many others. Take their outlook, their actions, and their words and put them into play in your own life. Whether that be marching in a rights march, paying for someone’s food, or just not firing back and being mean when someone is rude to you. Love is more powerful than hate, and right now we need more of it in the world.

Adjusting Back

As I was scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed the other day I saw a few of my fellow Peace Corps group members post links to their latest blog posts, and then it dawned on me that I have not written a post or really written down my thoughts at all since I left my site and Ethiopia almost 4 months ago.

            When I was in Ethiopia I was itching to leave. Not that my time there had been bad, but I was ready to be what I considered home (America). I was done with being stared at, with not having toilets and plumbing, with eating the same thing every single day, with not understanding what was being said around me, and with the overall frustration of living as an outsider, even after 2 years.

            What I realized as soon as I got on the plane to come back to America, and what I have lived with every day since then is that Adwa will always be a little bit of home to me, and that the people I met and the things I experienced changed my life only in the most positive sense. People use the expression “You don’t know what you have until it’s gone,” and I always rolled my eyes at that. I thought they were using that as some excuse to make me realize how lucky I am to have what I have. However, since coming back and having to readjust to such a different life, I am realizing just how true that expression is.

            I think the hardest part about coming home has been realizing how much I have changed in comparison to the rest of the life I left. I still have many friends from before, and they are still my closest friends. We still hang out and chat, they are still the people I text when I need a pick me up, but something is a little disconnected. It’s no one’s fault, but our lives have moved at different paces and the past 2 years have held vastly different experiences. I knew my friends would live their lives when I was gone, but what I didn’t realize is how I would feel “behind” when I returned. My friends are moving, going to grad school, and getting promoted, they are engaged, married, and pregnant. And yet here I am, trying to find a job, dealing with finding an apartment, and yet I feel more mature and grown up than others my age.

            At my COS conference the Peace Corps staff warned us that we would have to face many questions about our service and experience, but also forewarned us that people didn’t want to hear all about it. Maybe they were curious, but they don’t want to hear a story about a goat for 20 minutes. We learned how to pick and choose the anecdotes we tell, and they also let us sort through our emotions to try to explain how we feel about our experience. What they didn’t tell us is how different our narrative would be depending on the day. I have days where I gush and gush about my experience, the people, and that world. There are other days where I just shrug and say, “I’m glad to be back”. The difficult part of the narrative of my story is that it can’t be summed up in an “elevator speech”. It can’t be summed up by a 45-minute presentation. It can’t even be summed up by continuous stories. It can only be experienced, and that’s something I’m still trying to understand.

            Another hard part about readjusting is trying not to slip into a place of judgment at everything and comparisons that are not fair to make. I knew life was difficult there in a lot of ways, but I also knew the easiness of it in others. I saw the poverty, but I also saw the happiness. I saw the oppression, but I compared that to America and saw that there are some similarities that you won’t see unless you experience both countries. I came back and tried hard to not be “that person” who would scoff at a complaint and say, “It could be worse.” I mean, it could be—but it’s all in perspective and I’m learning that it’s not ok to diminish someone’s suffering just because someone else might also be having a difficult time. If nothing else, my time in Ethiopia taught me perspective, but that can be a lot to try to bring to a life where many things for me in America are easy. Whenever I feel a sense of complaining, I remind myself of the times I struggled during my service, or someone else, and it brings me to a sense of gratitude for my own life. However, that same sense of perspective sometimes lets me pass judgment onto others, which can be unfair.

            The single, most difficult, and most complex question someone can ask me is, “How do you feel now?” because my answer is, and I think will continue to be, “I don’t know.” Whenever anyone asks me that I want to scream that at them, and then run away, because I don’t think I will ever truly know how I feel about my time and being back. Readjusting to things like Target, cars, air conditioning, cuddling with dogs, and debit cards have been easy. Slipping into old routines with friends, unlimited texting, and constant power have been blessings. But the sense that I left a piece of me on the other side of the world, the knowledge that some of my girl students are currently sitting at home married instead of pursuing their dreams, the feeling that even through the hard times I learned more than I knew was possible, those stick with me and make being back in America more difficult.

            I think I am still at the place where I am creating a much different picture of my service in my mind than what it was. I know there were difficult moments, I still remember wanting to quit many times, and I still sometimes dream of my awful classes, my hardest days, and that feeling of not belonging. I think I am at the point in the return where I’m remembering everything fondly and so every time I talk about my service it’s all positive, nothing negative to be said. I know from talking to other Returned Volunteers that these feelings come in waves, that I will eventually go back to a place of acceptance. Acceptance of what my service was, which was an extremely amazing yet difficult life for 2 years. Acceptance that I grew and learned and experienced more than most people ever will. Acceptance that I may never fit in completely to my old life because of that- but that I can create a new one. And acceptance that the world is not perfect, that I know that more than most people, but that through my service I can hopefully help others along with my sense of empathy and desire to help others that I gained and strengthened while there.

The Most Surreal Experience

         

  I am not done with my Peace Corps service yet, in fact I have 43 days left in country. However, I am already on a roller coaster of feelings that I will try to put into words because in my mind that’s the only way to sort through how I’m feeling. I just got back to site from spending a week with my fellow group members at our COS conference (for those of you not versed in Peace Corps acronyms, that means Close of Service). We spent a few days at a resort sitting through some sessions about how to close out our service at site and with Peace Corps (if you think there’s a lot of paperwork to get into PC, you should see the amount required to leave…) and how to handle our Peace Corps service after with resumes, graduate school, and NCE (Non-competitive eligibility for jobs). Those were helpful sessions, but the real fun came when we got to talk about, share, and revel in our experiences with both Peace Corps and our communities. I got to hear sad, funny, and inspirational stories from my fellow volunteers service, as well as share my own.

            I have not always felt close to the rest of my group. I found a few close friends and tended to hang out with them for my service and when we would get together for trainings. Our entire group split into little cliques pretty early on and although none of us outwardly disliked anyone else, we didn’t always push ourselves out of our comfort zones and little friend groups. This conference however, I tried to eat meals with and talk to people I had never had conversations with, and I’m glad I did, because I came away with even more stories and laughed more than normal with my fellow volunteers I would not have been close to if not for this week.

            My group came into country with 70 people, and at our COS conference we were down to 45. People left for various reasons, from realizing Ethiopia and Peace Corps just wasn’t for them, to pursuing other dreams, to having to leave because of medical reasons. They will always be a part of G11, no matter when they might have left in service. However, the 45 of us that made it to our COS conference showed me the strength that I also seem to possess, even when I didn’t realize I did. Although I might not have been super close to everyone, I’m so glad to be a part of the group I was. I found some of my best friends here, and my Tigray group is the best regional group I could have asked for. The people I served with have shown me kindness, patience, inspiration, new perspectives, and have made me a better person because I knew them.

            I applied to Peace Corps because I wanted to teach in a different country, I wanted to do something different with my life, and I wanted to learn about and experience a new culture and community. I had never traveled outside of the country (besides 2 weeks in Costa Rica), I went to college in the same city I grew up in, and I had never moved. I came to Ethiopia about a month and a half after graduation, and I was completely terrified. I said goodbye to my mom, stepdad, dad, and brother in the airport and I was a mess. My brother started crying (he doesn’t normally show many emotions) and I almost didn’t go through security. I got on the plane to Washington D.C. and because I got there the night before we had to be there for staging, I hung out with some of my group at dinner that night, but I think I was so terrified that I don’t remember much from there.

            We had a day of sessions (who knew that would be my next 2.5 months?) with a giant layout/overview of Peace Corps and Ethiopia. They told us that if we had any doubts about whether we could do this to go talk to them after the sessions. Instead of doing that, I went to dinner with a couple of girls in my group for a giant sushi meal and then called my parents and bawled my eyes out. I again, almost told them to book me a flight from Washington D.C. to Albuquerque because I didn’t want to get on the plane to Ethiopia. I was terrified, exhausted, nervous, and sad. Nothing about my feelings were happy or excited. However, my parents gave me the tough love I needed. They told me to get on the plane. They told me that I would regret if I didn’t. If I got there, got a few weeks or months in and decided I couldn’t do it that I could come home with no judgment, but that I couldn’t give up before I tried. And man, I’m sure glad they told me that, because they were right (like always). I would have regretted it everyday if I had not gotten on that plane, lived here for 2 years, and had this incredible experience.

            My service is coming to an end. Although I have less than 2 months left in Ethiopia I have even less time left at my site, Adwa. I have to go to Addis Ababa for COS medical (again with all the paperwork), I’m participating in a Peace Corps camp, and then I am helping with G15 practicum (Crazy that the new babies are in country!). I have less than 3 weeks left in Adwa between now and when I leave Ethiopia. Some days, when the power is out (thank you rainy season….) and I feel like I don’t have anything to do, I just want to be back in America. I want to be able to turn on the TV and watch whatever trashy show is on, text my friends without worrying about having to reload my phone with birr, and snack on fresh fruits and veggies. However, I know that those are all things I will have soon, but that the experiences I have had here can never be replicated.

            I had some really difficult moments in my service, I had quite a few times where I considered calling the Country Director and telling him I was leaving, and I cried myself to sleep more times than I can count. I had a few mental breakdowns, many times where I texted or called my best friends in country and they had to calm me down, and I lost it on my land family, students, and random people on the street a few times. The days went by super slowly, even weeks did, but the months and now years went by quickly. Looking back, I can’t believe I have actually been living in Ethiopia for 2 years. I’m not going to say this was easy, because the past 2 years have been the most difficult of my life. Being away from friends and family when I was going through something or when they were (both good and bad) was difficult. Having to adjust to a completely new culture, adapting and integrating into a new community, learning a new language, teaching in a sometimes difficult atmosphere, and doing all of this on my own is probably the craziest thing I ever could have done.

            However, with all of those downsides come things that make me smile, made me grow, and made these the most difficult, but also the most rewarding two years of my life. Yes, there were some days I went to bed crying, but the days I went to bed or woke up with a smile on my face outnumber them. The days that I spent coloring and playing patty cake with the toddlers in my compound, the days I talked with the guys at the post office while they sorted through letters and packages, the market days I got to chat with my students selling food while buying my own. I measure my life here in smiles, cups of coffee, kids smiles, pieces of chalk, plates of injira eaten (and not eaten), mugs of beer, shouts of “Kelsey!!!” and many other things that aren’t measurable, but are just as important. The amount of times I texted my friends about sadness and hardship, I texted them more about random, silly moments that happened to me that made me happy or confused (that happened more…) that only fellow Peace Corps Volunteers would understand.

            I might have moved across the world, left everything I knew, and lived in a new place for 2 years, but that was the best thing I could have done for myself. My friends back home are working, getting married, and starting families. That’s amazing for them, but that’s not for me (yet). Some people find their home with a steady foundation, but I realized with this experience that my home is through confusion and new-ness. I used to get stressed with not knowing what was going on, I would get frustrated with the dysfunction (or what I took that to be), and I would get furious with cultural differences that seemed to come on with no reason (such as being “the firenji”, being a woman, and just being different here). However, through the hardships and the good times I began to embrace the differences. I realized that to survive and be happy in my service I had to change my perspective on my community and the moments that I could either struggle through or embrace.

            I might have not always had a sunny outlook on my experience, my community, and my life, but I found a way to flip my experiences into learning times, and my outlook into positivity. Sitting here and trying to figure out how to put my feelings and experiences into words, I realized there is no way to. One of our sessions at COS conference was “How to reach 3^rd goal”, which means how do we share the culture of Ethiopia and our service back home. I think every RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer) struggles with that, I know I certainly will.

            How can I explain to people back home that yes I had a crazy girl through a shoe at me, but that everyone around me immediately stepped in and helped me, that I had kids I had to throw out of class and I even made a few kneel, but I had more who walked hours to school everyday and couldn’t wait to participate in my activities, that I had people talk about me at weddings about my weight, that I wasn’t married, and that I was white (they thought I couldn’t understand them), but that I had more talk to me, give me sewa, and then pull me up to shoulder dance and laughed (at as well as with) me when I threw up my hands and just decided to look ridiculous. How can I explain chickens under seats and goats on top of mini buses, that coffee ceremonies can take hours but is my favorite part of the culture, that kids can entertain themselves for days with a rock and a piece of wire, or that power might go out regularly but that there is always food given when they realize you don’t have any? How do I explain that kids as young as kindergarten walk to school by themselves because parents know they will be watched by everyone on the street? How do I explain that my students cheat, but they don’t do it to be malicious but because they genuinely want to help their friends? How do I explain that the sense of community and caring is more than anywhere else I have ever experienced?

            I might have not wanted to get on the plane to go to Washington DC for staging, I might have struggled to get on the plane to go to Ethiopia, I might have had a hard time coming back after visiting home last summer because I made some great memories with my family and friends while visiting, but I’m grateful everyday that I did all of those steps and am here. A lot of people didn’t think I would make it 2 years, and honestly, I had my doubts in myself. But now that my 2 years are coming to an end my emotions are all over the place.

I’m excited to go home to people and things, like salads and washing machines. I’m ready to get into a routine for a bit. But I’m not ready to leave this place I have come to call my home. Whenever I leave for trainings or vacation and then come back, I get excited to walk to my house to the cheers of the kids, the smiles of suk owners, the cheek kisses of friends, and the hugs of my land ladies. The weird moments have become my normal, and I’m not ready to leave that yet. I know these will always be in my mind as memories, I know I’m incredibly blessed to have been able to have this as a part of my life and to have met all the amazing people I did, but I’m getting sad with having to leave the people who have become my friends and family, and the place I have learned to call home through it all.

            So when people ask how I’m feeling about this ending, I can honestly say I’m not really sure. It’s all a surreal experience, and I’m sure it will be this way for awhile. I’m trying not to concentrate on the negative, but instead focus on the positive and the future and how the lessons I learned on this journey will help me in my future endeavors.

Advice For A Future Ed PCV

“The idea of training was essentially futile. College graduates without a word of French or a day’s teaching experience had ten weeks to learn French, something of Ewe or another local language, and English instruction within the French West African educational system before being packed off alone to teach in a village school. This while suffering from heat and dysentery, pining for letters from home, and wondering if we hadn’t been flown to the wrong planet.”

“You just have to expect things not to work out, and you won’t get frustrated.”

“The Peace Corps is now in its fourtieth year, and the world’s inequalities remain as stark and unforgiving as ever. But whether or not Peace Corps volunteers have made a difference to the development of others, there can be no question that their contact with these others has had an abiding effect on their own development. That is certainly true of George Packer. Sent to Togo as an educator, he found an education”

All of the above quotes are from “The Village of Waiting” a book written by a Peace Corps Volunteer George Packer who served as a teacher in Togo in the 80’s. Although he served in a different country and a few decades ago, many of his experiences and insights are very similar to my own.

Being a Peace Corps Volunteer is difficult and being a high school teacher is difficult as well. When you put those together, you end up with a hard but very rewarding 2 years of service. PST is full of sessions about grammar, classroom management, and test design. It’s also full of sessions about how to be culturally sensitive, health and safety, and reporting to Peace Corps. Peace Corps designed these trainings to cover as much as possible in a short amount of time. They try to give as much help as possible and give you a chance to learn about others experiences. What they don’t tell you is that these trainings can only prepare you so much. Your experience is uniquely your own. Your site, compound, school, students, and people in your community are so incredibly different than even your friend in the next town. What situations you will find yourself in and how you will handle those vary drastically from person to person, and that’s part of the experience of Peace Corps.

My friends in the South, Amhara, and Oromia have had VERY different experiences with their schools, politics, and life in general than myself and my fellow volunteers in Tigray. Even in Tigray we have many things that vary, although less so. When I was going through training I realized that the things I learned the most were not from staff, but from older PCV’s in the groups above me. American staff tries to help, but they served in different countries. Their experiences are even more dramatically different than those of us in Ethiopia, and many times they did not serve in the same sector. That makes things difficult sometimes. The Ethiopian staff tries to help as well, but growing up and working in this system and country is much different than coming in and trying to adapt, especially in education, but also in the social and cultural aspects.

I know I just wrote about how everyone’s experiences are unique, but advice is still good to have. Some things seem to be applicable no matter where in Ethiopia you are serving, and a lot of times can be applicable even in different countries and sectors. Coming into a new country, culture, and community can be a lot to handle. You might be lost, but you will figure out a way to handle it. Peace Corps is a lot like the sink or swim approach of teaching. You either learn how to handle yourself and your life here, or you leave (although I will say that even if you find a way to handle it, you are still going to be lost most of the time). I hope that you are able to take the advice and experiences of those older than you and apply it to your own service. It might not always be easy, but I promise it will be worth it. I am not finished with my own service (I still have about 2.5 months left), however I am done teaching after 2 school years, and I figure as I am starting to say my good byes and do my lasts that my fellow volunteers and I are able to soundly give advice to new PCV’s.

I asked fellow Education Peace Corps Volunteers in Ethiopia to give their advice on teaching and here is what they said:

-       Seat kids in T groups

-       Record kids number in groups and take attendance that way

-       Plan out blackboard space so you don’t have to erase

-       Bring markers

-       For clubs, have everyone write down their phone numbers if they have one as well as their name, that way if you change the time or day or something you can contact them

-       Use your library

-       Make an extra effort with the kids in the back

-       Play games

-       Expect your plan to not go as planned and enjoy that

-       Don’t get too caught up in following your lesson plan or explaining something as quickly or slowly as you thought

-       Be open and ready to know NO class will go as planned and that’s the fun of it!

-       Get to know your students on a more personal level

-       Everything will be so much easier and fun if you have a positive relationship with them

-       Expect that the schedule the school gives you will change, and be prepared to change your teaching pace according to that

-       You will have random days off or days with almost no students, so have “fun” lessons as a reward for the students that actually come

-       Figure out a way to record participation and attendance and stick to that system- practice makes perfect (or at least keeps you organized)

-       Work with other teachers as much as possible, they can be great resources to help connect to students and understand the system

-       Use visual aids and interactive activities often- they might not be used to them at first, but they will come to appreciate them

-       Don’t just use chalk and talk, always try to include as many students as possible

-       Count on your “gobez kids” to help you with class control, translation, and keeping yourself sane—you’re going to need help with all of that at some point

-       Come to school on time, prepared, and stick to your schedule and calendar- teachers and students will take notice and hopefully will begin to change their own behavior

Teaching is difficult, but living in a new place might be even harder. I could sit and give advice forever on adapting and enjoying your service, but I will just give some advice from my fellow volunteers. Again, it won’t always be easy, in fact it will be really hard most of the time. It’s up to you about how you will handle those hardships and turn them into teaching moments. You will change as a person and you won’t always like that, but you will grow and develop.

-       Always say yes

-       Don’t let PST scare you into believing certain things about Ethiopia/Ethiopians (ie: that Ethiopian men are pigs, that you will get robbed, that you can’t eat/drink anything without getting sick)- they aren’t, you probably won’t, you may never get sick

-       Be direct, clear and persistent in telling people about/implementing programs/intentions

-       Cultivate relationships most with Ethiopians- these relationships are what will be most memorable and special and will make your life at site infinitely better, Peace Corps Volunteers will always be your friends

-       Participate, share, actively listen and be humble (you’re not saving the world)

-       Never let a chance to learn something escape you, despite your role as a teacher, embrace being a student (of language, culture, history, food, etc)

-       Accept being clueless (you always will be), but never stop asking questions

-       Learn as much language as you can and perfect what it is you do know (aka, speak often in your local language, even if you suck)

-       Don’t be afraid to make a fool of yourself and push yourself out of your comfort zone- you won’t regret it

-       Find something good and/or beautiful in every day

-       Patience, humor, and cookies

-       “Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game”

-       Step out of your comfort zone, take those invitations, and talk to new people, however- trust your gut and if your instincts are telling you to not trust someone or something, listen to that

-       Smile even when you are feeling down, because sometimes pretending you are ok and trying to find the good in the day will force you to actually find the good

-       It is ok to just hang out by yourself, watch a movie or read a book with a cup of tea, and not talk to anyone- that doesn’t make you a bad volunteer, it means you are coping with differences

-       It’s ok to have bad days and complain, just don’t make that a regular thing and habit

-       Don’t compare your service to others. Everyone has different ways to living and serving. Just because you don’t have 10 programs running or just because you don’t hang out with people every day for coffee doesn’t make you a bad volunteer, so don’t measure your service against others

-       There are great things around you, don’t get caught up in the small bad things and miss them

-       Often times it’s the smallest things that can make the biggest difference, so whether it’s one kid answering a question, one kid calling your name on the street, or a good plate of fresh injira, take the victories and smiles where you can and save them up for when you are having a bad day

Hopefully you didn’t join Peace Corps to save the world, and if you did you will be disappointed. You aren’t here to change the world. You might change one person’s life, and that’s enough. You probably won’t even see that change. You did come here to get an education, to learn and to change. That will definitely happen. The things you experience, the situations you find yourself in, and the people you meet along your journey- they will change you. So take this advice for the classroom and your service. You will find that some will help you and that you will develop your own along the way. Your own experience will be different than mine, but in many ways will be similar. So good luck on your journey/adventure/service/life (whatever you want to call it). It’s a roller coaster ride that you hopefully will enjoy, even on the low parts, but it’s one that will affect the rest of your life, no matter what.

[Special thanks to Jessie Sexton, Katie Leis, Austin May, Natalie Cooke, Natanya Dauster, and Ally Walker for sending in their advice for teaching and serving in Peace Corps Ethiopia!]

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.