Back to my Roots

This week, I had a chance to go to Awassa, which is in southern Ethiopia, to visit some of our development projects. At work, I support the business/ economic growth team as well as our livelihood transitions team (which largely deals with food aid). I'm excited to learn about the work that each team is doing but it makes me want to actually get into the technical work as opposed to the support function that I'm serving right now. We visited one of our sheep and goat programs, where we've imported a particular breed of sheep and goat, sold them to research centers to multiply and cross breed with indigenous sheep and goat, and distribute to local farmers. That was interesting enough since I've never really seen sheep or goats up close before. We also visited a land administration project, where we've funded an organization to go into districts in the area and talk to landowners about their property boundaries. Neighbors discuss their boundaries and someone from the local government (and usually some "elders") help adjudicate any disagreements about boundaries. Then, two agents use a GPS device to upload the coordinates of the parcel boundaries and then it's uploaded into GIS (geographic information systems) software, along with the landholder's information. One of the issues in Ethiopia used to be the frequent redistribution of land under the socialist government, which ended in 1991. This policy continued under the current regime and only recently did the government decide that this wasn't really working. When land is constantly being taken from people, they don't have much incentive to invest in the land-- preserving soil quality, not depleting the ground water table, investing in quality infrastructure, etc. So hopefully, with this land registration/ certification system, people will be more willing to invest in infrastructure and environmental measures necessary for economic development and long-term growth.

This is the kind of stuff that I want to do. I've only been here six months and I am trying to be patient. I want to do things that are related to my background and am trying to find ways to attach myself to projects so that I can not only learn more about what we're doing and how we're doing it, but also build up my own skill set so that at some point, hopefully I can leverage said skills in the future. I can see myself moving more into either the Democracy and Governance office (which would allow me to do more with community development) or Economic Growth (which would allow me to put these degrees at work, focusing on a wide variety of projects). I'm excited by the possibilities but also a little frustrated with my current options. I just need to make the most of my opportunities, even if it is as a program officer. Everything is a learning opportunity :)

Color Struck

I have never had any issues about my skin color. I don't try to put myself in the "brown" category, because I know I'm not "brown". I'm light skinned(ed). My oldest sister and I are both light skinned, though she is lighter than I am (as in..she's been mistaken for white before..whereas, I have not). I needed to start this out clear that I have no issues with my skin color.

Today, on the way back from lunch, one of my Ethiopian colleagues asked me if one of my parents was white. I said no and inquired as to why he asked. He said because I am very fair. Now, before arriving here, I never lied to myself that I looked Ethiopian. I don't have the eyes, the forehead, the hair, etc. It is well with my soul. But why can't I be just black? And this particular coworker lived in the states for a while. He said "I know some of the sisters and brothers in the states are light skinned"...and you just assumed we were all mixed? Do you really see that many older interracial couples to have spawned all of us light skinned folks? That's when I need to have a handy copy of "The Souls of Black Folks" or "Up from Slavery" and Billie Holiday's "Strange Fruit" on an ipod, ready to recount the history of Black people in the US and how our people died for even LOOKING at a white person wrong. I really don't think it comes together for non-Americans. And this is maybe a month after a friend of a friend in Kenya asked me if I was mulatto. MULATTO? First of all, sir...please update your vocabulary. No one post-reconstruction uses that word. Second of all, what? I had just finished explaining marriage on the front of the Black woman and you ask me if I'm mulatto? Sigh. He then proceeded to ask me about my parents, grandparents and great grandparents. I am really going to have to ask my mom about the folks in her family tree (cause its OBVIOUSLY her family tree where this fair-skinned(ed)ness came from). I know my maternal grandparents were both light skinned and I think both of them were mixed but I'm not for sure, for sure. There's some speculation about my grandfather being Black, Portuguese and Cherokee (cause we all know...we all got a lil Native American in our family). It's just very interesting that people even ask--like...why do you care? And it surprises me because I cannot remember a time when I was asked this in the states. Wait wait...people have questioned my mom before. But that's from having seen her...not just looking at me and being like, "Black + Black =/= you". Mulatto, octaroon, quadroon...nah the kid! Daughter of a field negro...y'all know how I do.

A for Effort...

Bougiethiopia has a very unique language, Amharic. As previously mentioned, almost no one else in the world speaks this language which, you know, can be cool. If exclusivity is your thing. I am trying to learn Amharic and have enlisted the help of an Amharic tutor. We meet 1-2 times a week and we're starting from the basics. I got greetings and numbers right now.

I have to say: Ethiopia is one of the countries where I feel like people are really encouraging even when you know only a few words. Like literally, anything beyond hello and thank you are very much smiled upon. When I drop a "Have a good day" or "Good morning" on someone, they're like "oh, you're learning so fast"...I don't know how long it really takes to learn "good morning" but I guess, given that you have to say it differently for men, women, and groups of multiples, maybe it is an accomplishment. I've been taking notes from almost all of the drivers, who have taught me some of the numbers, greetings, how to tell someone what I want, etc. They all know now that I am trying to learn so on our rides from the Embassy, I get a 15-20 minute lesson in Amharic. I definitely appreciate the lessons and honestly, the genuine excitement about my effort. I just came from dinner and outside of them rushing me to eat because they were closing, when I told the waitress "Have a good evening", she responded with the same and asked if I spoke Amharic (in Amharic). I told her a little bit (in Amharic) and she said something else and that she would be my teacher. Of course, we didn't exchange numbers or anything but it makes my heart smile when people are excited not only that I'm trying to learn the language but WANT to teach me. One of the drivers, of course I can't remember his name, stopped me in the hall the other day and straight quizzed me on the numbers (because that's what he had taught me). It warms the cockles of my heart (to steal from BS). :)

The Hotness Formerly Known As...

I have never at any point in time in my life, been made to feel less attached to a culture than I have since I moved here. This is all due to my name. Everyone here has a meaning attached to their name (as they do in many cultures); I can respect that. Wonderful, you have wished peace, prosperity, kingship, fortune, fame, patience and all kinds of virtues and proverbs into your children's lives. Awesome. But when I tell people my name, they automatically ask me what it means. And while I've looked it up before, I definitely don't carry the meanings in my pocket to be pulled out for such an occasion. In addition, they have the hardest time spelling my name. At first they added a 'C' (no, they didn't substitute the S for a C...they literally added a 'C' to the name. Sch....). People continue to insert an extra 'a' in my name (and spell it that way) even though I try to correct them; so now it is a three syllable name instead of two. And they do this even when they are copying it down from an official document or identification. I watched a person at the telecommunications store look at my driver's license and STILL spell my name wrong. Not only can they not fathom that it doesn't have a meaning (or that I don't have it ready for quick-retort), but they cannot pronounce or spell it correctly. Maybe its some sort of punishment for not remembering the meaning-- like..well if it has no meaning (or you can't remember it), then I guess its not really important that we preserve the integrity of it, is it? Great. It happens to white people too, I've seen. One of my co-workers has a 'regular' white name and she just tells people her name is Nancy to make things simpler. I know of several people in the office actually, who have used some variation of their name to make it easier.

So I looked up the meaning of my name (which I've done before). Obviously, I couldn't find it using the spelling my parents gave me. I was always the one who could never find the ready made magnets and keychains at the amusement parks and souvenir shops. It's fine. I remember my parents got myself and my sister wooden ones one year from Busch Gardens. That was really special (cause she also faces a similar predicament). Anyway, my name means 'song'/'singer'/'she sings'...or 'rocky land'. It's French (I told y'all I'm high class). I've been taking Amharic and people think I'm Habesha (Ethiopian) so maybe if I can just convert the meaning of my name into Amharic, I'll be straight? Maybe? Either way, the whole interaction smacks of superiority....I can hear them thinking "Black Americans...they have no culture". I CAN HEAR IT! With the help of my American, Amharic speaking colleague...my name in the streets is now going to be Zefanesh, Zefan for short. The next time I meet a non-colleague, this is what I'm telling them. One of the drivers already told me I should tell people I'm Ethiopian, but I just spent a lot of time in the States. That's going to be my new story. Staying true to my roots but ending the destruction of my given name. Keep this in mind folks when you start naming your kids...my name has been destroyed before in the States, but never as tragically as here :(

Surprise Surprise

I was up at the Embassy today and decided to drop by the Commissary to see what they had that I might want. For those of you who don't know, the Commissary is a store-like situation available to US Citizens located on military bases and embassies (I think you have to be affiliated with one of the branches on the ground but I'm not sure). Our commissary has been improving (so I hear), but the last time I went there, many of the packaged goods were expired (which I also hear is not uncommon). They carry a lot of American products, like Oreos, Pledge, Aunt Jemima pancake syrup, etc. I had some time on my hands and what I really wanted was a candy bar. So I went in, found some Craisins (which are my crack) and kept perusing the aisles. I was able to find some brown rice, which is lacking in the regular grocery stores. My cook asked me if I liked rice and I told her no; its not true, I just don't want to come home to white rice when I know I should be eating the brown stuff. I should have told her I discriminate.

Anyway, I'm walking the aisles and what do I come across...


Sweet Baby Ray's! What are you doing in these parts? Sigh. I was excited but dismayed. I literally bought like seven bottles of this stuff in different flavors (it was on sale for 3 for $5). But, it's good to know that it is here, in case I run through those bottles like water.

I continue my tour of the commissary and stumble upon another jewel:

Well, hello there. I don't personally use this line of products because I honestly don't feel like the same product can work well for both relaxed and natural hair. But it was good to know that the folks over at the Embassy are trying to appeal to the tastes of the African Americans at post. There were a few other products specifically aimed at African Americans, none of which I can use (due to these locs).

So Sweet Baby Ray's and some Pantene for Colored Girls Who Have Considered Head and Shoulders when the Suave is Enough. :)

HGTV!

I am a huge fan of HGTV and one of the most exciting things about having a house (yes, I said house) is having the chance to decorate it. Some of you know that I lived in a shoe of an apartment when I was in DC. A basement studio. It was cute. But I think that my living room now is bigger than my entire apartment (and I don't have to worry about loud neighbors upstairs). But in that vein, I now have more room to really decorate and buy things like throws and throw pillows, etc etc.

So my first project is going to be to make a headboard for my bedroom. The house comes furnished but once your furniture arrives, you can decide what you want to do with the furniture issued to you. Since I was living in a studio, I don't have much furniture. And, I've been playing with the idea of creating a headboard for my bed since 2007 (literally). My mom and I tried something and it was nice in theory but just didn't quite workout in practice. But these were motivations..http://www.hgtv.com/decorating/headboard-ideas-tuft-love/pictures/index.html


Anyway, so this time around, because my bed is literally a mattress, box spring and metal frame, I wanted to create something African-esque. I was inspired my friend, J9, who had these pieces of art woven out of banana leaves that she bought when she was in Burundi. Ethiopia is known for many things, among them basket weaving. So my idea is to have a three flat baskets woven and using those as art/headboard. Headboard art if you will. The actual pieces are called sefaids, I think. I went to a basket store this weekend and was almost overwhelmed with the selection (www.salemsethiopia.com). If you look at the last 7-8 pictures under the basketry section, you will see the flat types of woven art I am talking about. I think either three plain ones or ones designed with moderately neutral colors will give me the look I am looking for.


Hopefully, I'll post pictures later to show how this turns out. I also don't have a shelving unit in my bathroom so what I think I may do is use one of the bookshelves from my office (there are two) and get some nicely woven baskets to put all of my "bathroom stuff" in. Right now there is a 12 pack of Charmin and some feminine products just sitting on my floor. All of my body sprays, lotions, makeup, etc is just sitting on my dress, homeless and unloved. Again, pictures to come.

Something in the Air

When I arrived in Africa for the first time in 2006 with AITI (Africa Internet Technology Initiative), I remember stepping off of the plane and inhaling what I thought was the scent of Africa. Maybe it was my imagination, but I definitely remember the air smelling different than any part of America I had ever been to. In my mind, I like to tell myself that it was the scent of my people, the scent of Blackness at its core. Now, I realize it may have been a little more pollution and burning trash, but even when I deplaned in Nairobi a few weeks ago, the smell came back to me. It's not a bad smell (like Northern New Jersey on a hot day) and it's also not the smell of honeysuckle in the summer. But it was something...and I liked it.

Now, when I deplaned in Addis Ababa, I was expecting a similar smell. For a moment, my mind indulged in the tendency of Westerners to think of Africa as a country made of states and not the continent made of countries that it truly is. Each country is different. In case you haven't heard, Ethiopia considers itself different from the rest of Africa. It is the only African country not to be colonized (according to Ethiopians) and they speak a language that literally almost no one else speaks: Amharic. Ethiopia and a part of Eritrea (so I hear) are essentially the only places in the world where this language is spoken (and a small part of Washington, DC called U St). The cuisine is unique and honestly, the smell was of the spices used in their food and the scent of burning coffee beans. It's a smell that haunts me now...that I inhale on the streets and wonder if I'll return with it in my hair and skin.

Days Late, Dollars Short...

Hello, Shalom, Selam, and Bonjour.

This is my effort to record/ document/ journal my time here in Ethiopia and Africa in general, as well as other life goings-ons that are happening right now. I will not promise to blog every day but I will commit to blogging twice a week. I think that's enough time for me to rouse up some adventures/ stories worth telling and to whet your appetite for more Shawn :). I enjoy writing and have deferred dreams of becoming an author/ book editor. I don't think I would ever REALLY write a book (at least not about my own life...with potential PhD in hand, I'm hoping to at least get a chapter published or something). Anyway, please comment, ask questions, offer up suggestions of things you'd like to know. I use pseudo-names to protect the privacy of those I interact with, so try to keep up. I will also try to include pictures because I think it adds to the connection I hope you'll make when reading. I've been here in Addis three weeks now, so I'll try to over-blog to compensate for the adventures/ observations/ commentary you've missed.

Without further ado...