In Peace Corps you soon learn that your experience varies widely depending on which country you’re sent to, and often even where within that country you go. Ethiopia is incredibly diverse in terms of climate, language and even to some extent – in culture.
Up north in Tigray it is very dry and dusty 95% of the year, everyone is Ethiopian Orthodox Christian, and it is more conservative. In the south west where I have been living, it is a mix of Ethiopian Orthodox, Ethiopian Protestant and Muslim. Its very muddy and rainy 60% of the year, the cows and other “food animals” are fat, and it’s so beautifully green.
No matter where you are in Ethiopia there are cultural ties that are the same – everyone drinks coffee. Everyone eats injera. Everyone drinks tea that is 50% sugar and eats spicy foods for breakfast.
Unfortunately as well, the deep-seated misogyny and sense of male entitlement is universal to every part of Ethiopia.
Ethiopia is not an easy place to live for a woman with a Western world view.
Like many developing countries, Ethiopia has an incredibly high level of harassment. Specifically sexual harassment. It was one of the countries identified by Michelle Obama’s team to target for her gender equity program “Let Girls Learn” – which provided money for training and programs Peace Corps Volunteers could do. I used it to get the money for the camp I directed last summer.
This is something I usually wouldn’t post on my blog however this context is important to highlight how wonderful and unique my experience was from a few weeks ago.
I was walking through a larger city (Jimma) from my hotel to the regional Peace Corps office to get WiFi and lay down on a sofa for awhile. Many bajaj drivers were yelling (as usual) to get my attention, but one guy started circling me. That is definitely a flag – but his voice wasn’t as threatening as some others. He asked to see my tattoo… I asked him if I could get a ride for free. He agreed!
We talked the usual chit chat on the way to the office – why do I, a white woman know Afan Oromo…What am I doing there… Where do I live….
But the real miracle came at the end of the trip. He asked to see my tattoo – looked at it, touched it and asked to take a picture with it and me – but NONE of it was in a creepy or flirty way. He was completely respectful the ENTIRE TIME. We exchanged numbers and names at the end and his was Kirubel – one of the angels that guard God’s throne. He was well named.
Moments like this are the ones I’ll keep in my heart from my service.
❤
Coffee and Ramblings 