First day of school

First a reminder: Because I can’t get Internet access whenever I want, I will be posting numerous posts each time I log on; I’ll write things up in Word and then get them online when I can. Thus, while it may say that I posted two or so times in one day, they may not necessarily have been written that day.

Well, it’s Wednesday, which means I had my first day of school. It was a half-day like Head Royce, and also like HRS we have a mini-day and go to all of our classes. Even though it was a short day it was really hard. I hate having to be one of the new kids (there are apparently 5 new girls and 1 boy, although not everyone was at school today – out of the country still, or the first day’s a joke, I guess). Seeing other kids makes me realize how much I miss my friends. I guess it’s actually true that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone; I really have it good at home. I love you all. It’s just, now I feel like such an outsider, it’s weird to be in a place where you really don’t have any friends. You feel very alone. But my family’s here, and amidst the regal churches and mosques, and the priests’ melodic incantations each morning at dawn, they are my religion.

However, now I just can’t help but think “Oh @!^#, what the *$#% did I get myself into?!” Sure I had the balls to say that I want to be here, and don’t get me wrong, it’s a great opportunity, but it’s really scary now. Also, it’s not like a year here is going to make me “more Ethiopian.” I will never truly be Ethiopian. I am only _, or gemash, Ethiopian. I am American, through and through. This is the first time that I’ve actually had any patriotic instincts, but I have a home in Oakland, the Bay Area, California, the United States of America; that is where I have grown up and that is where I want to raise my children.

But bakka, enough of this. One really important person I haven’t mentioned is Zeritu. Ethiopia’s classism is jarring to me: While some drive down the streets in their imported BMWs and whatnot, there are groups of people at every corner dressed in rags. Thus everyone of a certain socioeconomic level has a housekeeper that cooks and cleans and a guard to open the big gates that surround their house. Zeritu is our housekeeper, and she is wonderful! Her food is batam teru, very good, and she’s really nice as well. I also won’t deny that a maid is a luxury I most certainly enjoy.

Well, all for now. I hope all is well at home. Ewedachualoh, again, I love you all.