Maybe It's Your First Time Around...

Eulogy for Meg

I wrote this the day I heard the news. Still in Ethiopia, it didn’t seem so real and writing was easier. It hasn’t been since. Meg was always really supportive of my blog. This seems like a good way to get back into it.

Now I’ve only been a writer for a little while so I hope you don’t try and compare me with the show stopping Frank Sullivan but I’d like to say a few words.

Meg was a unique individual. There’s really no other way to say it. Meg was a strange person. If you caught a glimpse of the photo memorials you’d get a sense of what a bold fashionista the world has lost. She was an original baker, too. Thankfully she didn’t mix and match ingredients like she did colors but she sure had a way of coming up with some cool new snacks. Must have got it from Dad.

She was never daunted. All of the eye rolls and ‘Oh Megs’ were encouragement really. She was fearless. An explorer. No adventure was too great, no destination too far. Especially if Mom was footing the bill.

But that tenacity, that stubbornness was probably the root of her weirdness. She committed to whatever she decided to do. She ran- ran marathons- for fun. Ask her to run out back and turn off the pool filter and suddenly she’d collapse in exhaustion. But 10, 20, 30 miles, pshoo off she went.

It helped her do really well in school. Graduated with honors from high school and from Stonehill. Then she took a few years to give in to wanderlust. We both really liked Jack Kerouac. And had dreams of traveling cross-country. Which thankfully we got to do together last summer. Meg kept many long lists of things to do, places to go, books to read. Unlike most people, she generally completed a lot of things on her lists.

Anyways, then she went to Yale to study medicine. She was going to be something great. She really could have helped a lot of people. She wanted to work with the homeless and mentally ill. She was campaigning to end solitary confinement. She joked about setting up shop somewhere in the third world. She was the best of all of us.

It’s a real shame she had to go. I wish it didn’t happen.

I'll be missing several days of school when I go back to the US for Christmas. I figure I'll take the opportunity to up my Favorite Teacher Status by letting the kids watch a movie one of the days I'm gone. Ask any 5 year old and what is their favorite Christmas classic? Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer of course. 

The choice was easy to make, getting permission was another story. Have you ever tried to explain the plot of this movie? Especially to someone brought up with a completely different style of Christmas?

"The school's policy is strictly non-religious," my unit director Ms. Marta explained.

"I promise you this movie has nothing religious about it."

"What's it about?"

"There's this reindeer Rudolph- you see Santa Claus raises reindeer to drive his sleigh. Reindeer can fly. And that's how he can visit all the children all over the world and give them presents."

"Ok"

"So anyways Rudolph was born with a shiny red nose that glows and all the other reindeer would laugh and call him names... So he decides to run away from home."

Ms Marta just stares at me.

"Meanwhile there's this Elf. Elves are little people who build the toys for Santa. Well, this one Elf doesn't want to make toys, he wants to be a dentist. But he can't cause Elves have to make toys, you know?"

"Ok"

"He runs away with Rudolph. They have a tough time at first trying to live in the North Pole on their own. By the way, Santa's workshop is the North Pole. I don't know why."

Silence

"But then they meet this guy prospecting for silver and gold. But he's being hunted by his archenemy, a Yeti, which is like a snow monster... but that's just a subplot"

"Ok"

"Anyways, a wicked snow storm comes on and Santa thinks he's gonna have to cancel Christmas. Fortunately, Rudolph's Dad finds him and brings home right around this time. And it turns out, Rudolph's nose makes the perfect headlight! So he's put on the front of the sleigh and, you know, saves the day. And also, all the Elves have terrible teeth because they live on a diet of candy canes which are...whatever. So they really need a dentist so they let the little Elf come back and be their dentist. And like everyone lives happily ever after."

Silence

"It's like the quintessential kids Christmas movie in the States."

"We'll see."

"Ya totally I can bring it in and we can watch it to see what you think."

"That sounds good."

I have decided to try my hand at making sun dried tomatoes following instructions I found in a Moroccan cookbook. That the book advises me to use an oven as opposed to the real sun doesn't bother me. This is Africa after all! Surely the sun is strong enough to dry a few thin cut tomatoes.

The real challenge will be keeping these little guys safe while they sunbathe. Flies, birds, dust in the wind- a lot can contaminate a poor tomato. Fortunately the sun's UV rays kill bacteria right? So as long as no pigeon snags them, they'll be perfectly safe to eat whenever they're done.

Wherever I go, invariably people will call out to me:

'Hello! Are you fine?'

'Where you go?'

'China! China!'

There are two terms for foreigner here- freniji (based on the French who were the first white people in modern times to have significant contact with Ethiopia) and china (based on the Chinese who currently have the most significant foreign presence here). 

It has bothered me a great deal, being heckled. For the words cried out are not always in good taste. Truly, I dreaded going out alone. If I did, I would strive to make myself invisible, hiding as much of my offending white skin as possible. 

Yet recently, I have realized (thanks to Abiy) that I shouldn't view this so negatively.

"They're giving you props."

Abiy explained to me that they have nicknames for everyone here. If I was Arab or African, they would have other things to yell out. And these much less kind. Freniji, in a way, is a compliment. 

Ethiopians are a very proud people and consider themselves better than their fellow Africans. After all, Ethiopia was strong enough to withstand colonization. They probably think themselves better than the Chinese too in much the same way we in the US deride China. But white people, so few and far between, are like celebrities. Even I feel a tinge of excitement when I see one- it's not a daily occurrence you see.

More importantly though, is the fact that many people here simply have nothing better to do than call out to passerby (including fellow Ethiopians). There are few entertainment outlets and anyways precious little money to spend on such frivolous things. To pass the time, one sits. In a cafe, in a bar, on a street corner. You talk to whoever may be around and watch the world pass you by. The kids in the above photo spent their time hopping on the back of passing buses and trucks, riding them as far as they could before the driver caught on.

I still think it's rude to point and stare, I've been raised to you see. But I no longer get angry and uncomfortable when strangers try to talk to me. I just smile and say salem and carry on my way.

Perhaps you found it strange that my friends spent a casual Friday evening eating liver. But here, it's not at all extra ordinary. When an animal is killed, nothing goes to waste. And I'm not talking about Native American repurposing of bones for combs and innards for rituals. When I say nothing goes to waste, I mean that everything- liver, lungs, brains, bones- is eaten.

There's a whole ecosystem to it. The boy in the photo above is holding a pair of lungs from a goat. Lungs go to the cats. The skull and everything it may contain? That's for the dogs. Now the bones, they're fair game to all involved. Below, Abiy's sister prepares kiyawat using the meat that still clings to the ribs of a sheep. Once sufficiently stewed, the bones will be cracked open and the marrow scooped out. Anything the humans don't want is left to be scavenged by the dogs and cats and birds as well as the occasional hyena.

And the inedible bits? Like the fur coat? These are cleaned and made into seat cushions or laid on dashboards to deflect the African sun.

In short, the death of one animal can go a long way here. It makes me think of the hundreds of thousands of animals killed every day in America. Are their deaths wasted? Sure the hot selling items are the chicken breasts and the prime ribs but what becomes of the rest? Hamburger? Perhaps. Hot dog? Most likely. But what of the bones? What of the pelts? I haven't heard of much leather coming out of the Mid West.

Maybe you know these answers. Personally, I am so far removed from the American food industry that I know very little about what happens before my steak arrives at the supermarket other than what Fast Food Nation has told me.

Here, however, it's no mystery. The livestock is grass/ garbage fed and generally lives out its days roaming whatever turf the shepard claims as his own. Even in the city, one passes such herds on the daily. The animals are fed no pills or chemicals or GH hormones because the lowly goat herder could never afford such things. You can watch the slaughter too, if you've got the stomach for such things. They've got a whole ritual to it that mostly involves a quick slit of the throat with a sharp blade and catching the blood so it doesn't spill all over the ground.

This is a liver Abiy brought home from the butcher the other night. It cost 10 birr (50cents). To put that into perspective, a half kilo of meat costs 60 birr ($3).

Liver is totally an edible food. There is even a wiki page devoted to it. It is eaten all over the world in the forms of haggis (Scotland) foie gras (France) and liverwurst (Germany).  Animal liver apparently is rich in iron and in vitamin A. Often, it is considered a delicacy.

And yet...ewww

I think it would be difficult for me to eat a prepared dish like haggis. But just straight up liver? Bought from a curbside butcher adjacent to a bar? RAW? No thank you.

Abiy says it's traditional food. I don't doubt this. Yet just because Lucy and the other OG humans at raw liver, doesn't mean it's good. It was all I could do to watch Abiy and Addisnu (a friend visiting from Shashamane) prepare the meat.

You see, a liver is covered with a thin outer membrane that needs to be pealed off before eating. Like so-

It is very stretchy and very sticky. You can't even see it at first. In order to get the membrane to show itself, Abiy and Addisnu take turn beating the organ with the flat side of a knife. Once they can see the membrane, they slowly peel it back, trying not to get it webbed up between their fingers. 

Once a decent portion of the membrane is removed, they slice the meat into bite size portions. Liver is best eaten raw with mitmita (a sort of chili powder). The two guys ate nearly the whole thing, only leaving the arteries/ veins that connect the organ to the rest of the body.

LIDETA

The population of Addis Ababa is nearly 5 million people. Understandably this may seem like a small number, especially considering the city is spread out over 200 square miles (527 square kilometers). However, none of the city's infastructure- not the roads or the electric grid or the water reserves or the sewage system- was designed to handle the rapid population increase of the past 20 years. With ever more people moving from the countryside to the capital, the demand on resources is steadily growing.

Population growth is also putting an increased demand on housing. This has lead to the development of condominium complexes with anywhere from 20 to 100 buildings. Each building has 6 or 7 floors, each floor has 5-10 apartments. The result can look like a space colony. Hundreds of thousands of people now call these condominiums home.

Yet as far as urban living in the 3rd world goes, people who can afford to live here are the lucky ones. And the luckiest of all will be those who move into Lideta- the complex Abiy and I now reside.

Lideta is a short distance from the Mercado (Africa's largest open air market) and an even shorter distance from Mexico (the financial center of Addis as well as the location of the African Union). These condominiums are to be a showpiece for the 2015 presidential elections. At the moment, much is still under construction. Soon though, the surrounding area will be filled with fine restaurants and shops. And when the metro is finally completed? Lideta will be the place to live.

This will probably mean that rent will more than double and Abiy and I will have to find new pad. But until then, we can say we're living in one of the best apartments in Addis.

INTRO

This is Abiy.

He's standing outside his mom's house in Asela- a town 200km south of Addis.

Abiy is also an English teacher. High school though, not KG. We met last year while teaching at the Fountain of Knowledge school. We've been dating ever since. 

ENYE ASTERMARI

That's Amharic for 'I'm a teacher.' This photo is me (the white lady) with the second grade students I taught last year on Cultural Day.

Presently, I teach kindergarteners. They are very sweet and very cute but the task of teaching them to speak English can at time be tedious. For instance, we spent the month of September mastering the following dialogue:

Good morning! 

Good morning! How are you?

I'm fine thank you and you?

I'm fine. Who are you?

My name is ______. I am 5 years old. I live in Addis Ababa.

Nice to meet you.

Nice to meet you too.

A month later, I'm still not sure they all got it. Alas, October must be spent learning to ask permission. Thankfully, there are no penalties for students who fall behind (or for the teachers who fail to catch them). They will learn this same material for the next 5 years of their educational careers. 

An added bonus, if ever I don't feel like teaching, reading a story or playing Simon Says are perfectly acceptable ways to spend class.

       In the fall of 2013 I moved to Addis Ababa, the capital city of Ethiopia. The leaves had just begun to change colors as I said good-bye to Massachusetts and the world I had spent the entirety of my life. I traded the crisp autumn air for the dank humidity of the East African rainy season. Instead of kicking up leaves, I sloshed through muddy unpaved roads. Instead of being the uber connected 'digital native' the world has (misappropriately) labeled me as, I struggled just to convey word of my safe arrival back to my mom, fighting against the many plagues of the city's internet cafes: erratic electricity, network failures, viruses galore. 

My first day, I woke up overwhelmed with my new situation. The full weight of my decision finally dawned on me. I feared I had made the worst decision of my life.

But that was over a year ago. Today, I still live in Addis. Moreover, I am so enthralled with my life here, I've decided to start a blog to tell everyone about it.

So despite what you may have heard, trust me. Here, life is sweet.