1/24/06
Well, I successfully survived my first week. More or less anyhow. Actually, in all honesty, last week wasn’t so bad. But then I realized just HOW much work I’m suddenly being completely inundated with. Let’s see, I had this ridiculous IB Math Project due on Monday, but she let us turn it in today, Tuesday. Tomorrow, Wednesday, I have a math quiz… lucky me, on a section in our book that I haven’t done yet! Friday I have an in-class essay on the book that we read. Next Monday I have a math test (maybe you can see the common trend of how RIDICULOUSLY RIDICULOUS my math class is… but I actually really do enjoy it, although my grade dropped from a nearly A+ to an A- over the course of the semester). Next Tuesday I have a biology test… on things that I haven’t learned, because my teacher just doesn’t teach… but he’s actually getting a lot better, it’s nice to see, and definitely heartening for me. Next Wednesday I have a history oral presentation, and for some reason I chose the most boring topic. The following Tuesday I have an anthropology oral presentation, and THIS I’m excited for! We get to be “creative,” and the topic is race and ethnicity, so I’m going to interview (hopefully I’ll get to videotape it) a few of my friends at school on what’s it’s like to be multiracial. Then that same day I also have an English oral presentation on a book that I’ve only just started… Yeah, life’s a bitch… so, as the saying goes, just fuck it… sorry to any of my PG readers. But actually, that’s just so not true, I can’t just say fuck it, I can’t blow this off, which kind of sucks, but you know, no, it really doesn’t. Sorry, my thoughts are rather scattered, I’m fairly tired. Oh yeah, that’s one funny thing: I adjusted to the time pretty much right away, and I don’t think it’s because the No-Jet-Lag pills worked wonders. I guess at this point my body is just so used to going back and forth (even though it was only my 3rd transition) that I didn’t have any problems. Also I just jumped right into life; I arrived in Addis at 3 a.m. Saturday morning and was up at 6 a.m. on Monday to go to school. Sooo, the whole point of this has been to say that I’m not going to school tomorrow. It feels rather nice to think about it, actually J. The jet-lag is kind of catching up with me… kind of… no, honestly, I am rather tired, everything’s been really busy recently. Moreover, I can have time to catch up a bit on my projects, which I desperately need. You can think “oh, she has the weekend for thaaat,” but come on now, since when has the weekend ever been sufficient time to take care of everything that you need to do? Never. Once you fall behind you just can’t catch up without taking time off. Which then makes you fall behind a bit more. But the idea is that when you take time off you’re able to make a bigger gain than what you’ll lose. Exactly. Yes, exactly.
So, besides all of that boring stuff, anything interesting going on in my life? Ahh, I’m getting MUCH better at Amharic! It’s actually fairly awesome, I can talk! Haha, it’s a great feeling. It does get really frustrating sometimes because people see me and expect me to be able to understand what they’re saying and respond, but more often than not, I just have absolutely no idea what they’re saying to me. But now, I’m getting sooo much better, and it’s just very fulfilling. What else? My brain just isn’t functioning properly right now. Betty and her mom are in Dubai for a week, so it’s been fairly quiet around here. Ahhh, next year is going to be SO much fun! So, there are these potters at school giving lessons, but they also make stuff while they’re there, and they have some absolutely GORGEOUS things! There are really nice plates, pots, etc., all for only around 30 birr… which is about 3 dollars… it’s ridiculous, they could be sold in the states for $30! It’s sooo sad, their work is beautiful, but in Ethiopia art isn’t really appreciated as something worthwhile. Honestly, there’s a huge niche in Ethiopian art. So many different things can be made fashionable: beautiful church paintings could be incredible wrapping paper, the things that the potters make could be used to decorate homes, and they could make Christmas tree decorations, the silver and gold jewelry could be HUGE, and they could turn it into picture frames with the crosses and specific decorations etched into them…. Ahhh, all of these are just very simple things, but it could be a very, very big market. Ethiopian clothing also: at least the fabrics can be used in modernized designs, not for traditional clothing, but for regular clothing that you’d just wear, or at least special occasion dresses, etc. SOMEONE can monopolize this, make a fortune for themselves, and then give it back to Ethiopia somehow. I swear, all I want is just to see a stronger, happier Ethiopia. There are so many problems ravaging it, and at least issues like poverty, starvation, and AIDS can be eased by a project like this, especially if it proved to be really lucrative. Ethiopia itself needs to just grow economically, suddenly find something it has that’s outrageously profitable in the world market, and just blossom. Addis Ababa means “New Flower,” but I don’t think it’s getting enough sun or water or something, because it just seems wilted to me. It’s pulsing with so much cultural diversity, it has so much to offer, but no one truly sees it and it’s just not getting anywhere. I want to help Ethiopia, I just feel like there’s so much room for it to grow and evolve and be strong. It’s frustrating, this feeling of helplessness. Well, I guess we’ll just wait to see what’s waiting in the future.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Monday, January 16, 2006
Winter Holiday
Well, it’s been such a long time that not only do I not know where to begin, I’m not sure that I even remember how to… so I guess I’ll just delve in… My first day back in Addis has been really nice. It was easy, relaxing, comfortable. It felt right. Unfortunately tomorrow will be completely spent doing math homework, blahhh. And so it goes. It’s funny, after being so excited to come back to Ethiopia and see everyone again and (surprisingly!) go to school, and just generally be occupied and busy and stimulated, now I don’t want to go to school. I’m sure that once I get there on Monday I’ll be happy…
Anyhow, I suppose I have a bit of backtracking to do. December 16, the day that school let out for the winter holiday, mom and I headed off to Bole Airport to return to California. All day I was blissfully counting down the hours, in the morning I even felt slightly defeated because the 18-hour wait until our 1 a.m. flight seemed impossibly long. Many can attest to my ecstatic and beaming face, way more intense and creepy than any Stepford wife, while incessantly chirping at random times throughout the day: “I’M GOING HOME TONIGHT!” At one point I said this to a couple of my guy friends who happen to be Ethiopian. One of them looked at me hard, yet I couldn’t tell whether or not he was actually trying to be serious because of his sleazy grin. However, he’s a fairly happy-go-lucky guy and enjoys hitting on girls, so that smile does seem to be permanently plastered on his face. Carrying on, he looked at me hard and said, “Home? This is your home,” he fervently jabbed a finger at the ground, “Ethiopia is your home.” He said this with passion. And people are only ever half-joking. I responded by telling him that I’m only half Ethiopian, I’ve attended the same school for the past five years, I’ve lived my entire life in Oakland, California. I’ve only been in Addis for the past five months. He didn’t say anything.
But something funny happened. I got back to California and I was excited and happy to be home, more than happy for a break. Driving down the freeway felt so right: I knew everything I saw, I knew exactly where we would turn, I was home. As soon as we got back to the house I took a shower in my parents’ bathroom, only to be greeted to the warm laughter of 15 of my friends at the front door as I was walking back to my room with only a towel wrapped around me. Needless to say, I tore across the hallway into my bedroom. I returned clothed to my “welcoming committee,” and felt nothing short of an extremely loved princess, receiving phone calls and cupcakes. Definitely an ego-boosting moment. Not to mention an incredibly nice memory. So the next week commenced beautifully, with some of my really good friends returning from vacationing, going shopping, eating food that I dearly missed, and just enjoying the comfort of my native soil. Then the paradise of the honeymoon wore off: I got bored and sad. I’m still sifting through this. I wasn’t exercising, which makes me feel sluggish; I missed schoolwork and mental stimulation; I kept thinking of Ethiopia; I felt out of place among my friends. I was already expecting to feel… not necessarily left out, but rather apart, yet that didn’t mean that I actually knew how that would feel. I don’t really know how to explain it, but it wasn’t nice. Someone asked me one day if I felt that people had changed. I hastily said “yes,” but after thinking about it for a moment, I said that most people hadn’t really changed, but I had, and that made all the difference. I no longer see things the same way, and thus there are some people that I can’t see the same way. I still dearly love them, but I don’t think that I can necessarily relate to them the way I used to. Oftentimes I found myself closing in, not talking much, desperately wanting to not be there. Everything, everything, was too much the same. What’s odd though, is that I don’t even really think that I’ve changed all that much… at first people said that I had bit of an accent, and many commented on my increased maturity and sophistication. I don’t feel much more mature or sophisticated, and despite feeling that I somehow have changed, I absolutely cannot declare that this is how I’ve changed and this is why. I’m still me, Samra G! Which is why I’m still sifting through all of this. All I know is that I just wanted to come back to Ethiopia, because after awhile I wasn’t really happy in Oakland anymore. Home is…
It’s funny, when I returned to California I couldn’t really think of anything to say. Everyone kept asking for stories, and I sadly failed on fulfilling that common request. The problem was, being here in Ethiopia is just life. I wake up, I go to school, I do something after school, I come home and do homework, I go to bed. What’s different is that there are other random things thrown in: a new environment, new people, various parties, tournaments in South Africa, political turmoil. But still, it’s my life, and only over a lifetime do you truly gather myriad attention-grabbing stories. If even. And besides, Ethiopia seemed so far away. Ethiopia and California are two completely different worlds, separated not only by mountains and oceans and other peoples lives, but by a distance that lives in your heart and your mind, a knowledge that consumes that your body… I don’t know, but when I was in Oakland, Ethiopia just didn’t seem real, simply another one of my silly dreams. It’s funny how this happens, how the past rusts and fades in my memories. Or rather, it becomes faint whispers of something that has happened, maybe only something that could have happened… when I reach out to grab them… well, whispers are fairly hard to catch. So ultimately, I almost want someone to tell me what the point is.
I’m sifting and I’m drifting, surrounded by the sea, and the answers don’t lie here. Luckily I have no bricks to drown me. Hopefully I’m heading somewhere, but I don’t think that I’ll ever get all of the answers that I want. For now I need to get adjusted to the time… and it’s almost 2 a.m.
Anyhow, I suppose I have a bit of backtracking to do. December 16, the day that school let out for the winter holiday, mom and I headed off to Bole Airport to return to California. All day I was blissfully counting down the hours, in the morning I even felt slightly defeated because the 18-hour wait until our 1 a.m. flight seemed impossibly long. Many can attest to my ecstatic and beaming face, way more intense and creepy than any Stepford wife, while incessantly chirping at random times throughout the day: “I’M GOING HOME TONIGHT!” At one point I said this to a couple of my guy friends who happen to be Ethiopian. One of them looked at me hard, yet I couldn’t tell whether or not he was actually trying to be serious because of his sleazy grin. However, he’s a fairly happy-go-lucky guy and enjoys hitting on girls, so that smile does seem to be permanently plastered on his face. Carrying on, he looked at me hard and said, “Home? This is your home,” he fervently jabbed a finger at the ground, “Ethiopia is your home.” He said this with passion. And people are only ever half-joking. I responded by telling him that I’m only half Ethiopian, I’ve attended the same school for the past five years, I’ve lived my entire life in Oakland, California. I’ve only been in Addis for the past five months. He didn’t say anything.
But something funny happened. I got back to California and I was excited and happy to be home, more than happy for a break. Driving down the freeway felt so right: I knew everything I saw, I knew exactly where we would turn, I was home. As soon as we got back to the house I took a shower in my parents’ bathroom, only to be greeted to the warm laughter of 15 of my friends at the front door as I was walking back to my room with only a towel wrapped around me. Needless to say, I tore across the hallway into my bedroom. I returned clothed to my “welcoming committee,” and felt nothing short of an extremely loved princess, receiving phone calls and cupcakes. Definitely an ego-boosting moment. Not to mention an incredibly nice memory. So the next week commenced beautifully, with some of my really good friends returning from vacationing, going shopping, eating food that I dearly missed, and just enjoying the comfort of my native soil. Then the paradise of the honeymoon wore off: I got bored and sad. I’m still sifting through this. I wasn’t exercising, which makes me feel sluggish; I missed schoolwork and mental stimulation; I kept thinking of Ethiopia; I felt out of place among my friends. I was already expecting to feel… not necessarily left out, but rather apart, yet that didn’t mean that I actually knew how that would feel. I don’t really know how to explain it, but it wasn’t nice. Someone asked me one day if I felt that people had changed. I hastily said “yes,” but after thinking about it for a moment, I said that most people hadn’t really changed, but I had, and that made all the difference. I no longer see things the same way, and thus there are some people that I can’t see the same way. I still dearly love them, but I don’t think that I can necessarily relate to them the way I used to. Oftentimes I found myself closing in, not talking much, desperately wanting to not be there. Everything, everything, was too much the same. What’s odd though, is that I don’t even really think that I’ve changed all that much… at first people said that I had bit of an accent, and many commented on my increased maturity and sophistication. I don’t feel much more mature or sophisticated, and despite feeling that I somehow have changed, I absolutely cannot declare that this is how I’ve changed and this is why. I’m still me, Samra G! Which is why I’m still sifting through all of this. All I know is that I just wanted to come back to Ethiopia, because after awhile I wasn’t really happy in Oakland anymore. Home is…
It’s funny, when I returned to California I couldn’t really think of anything to say. Everyone kept asking for stories, and I sadly failed on fulfilling that common request. The problem was, being here in Ethiopia is just life. I wake up, I go to school, I do something after school, I come home and do homework, I go to bed. What’s different is that there are other random things thrown in: a new environment, new people, various parties, tournaments in South Africa, political turmoil. But still, it’s my life, and only over a lifetime do you truly gather myriad attention-grabbing stories. If even. And besides, Ethiopia seemed so far away. Ethiopia and California are two completely different worlds, separated not only by mountains and oceans and other peoples lives, but by a distance that lives in your heart and your mind, a knowledge that consumes that your body… I don’t know, but when I was in Oakland, Ethiopia just didn’t seem real, simply another one of my silly dreams. It’s funny how this happens, how the past rusts and fades in my memories. Or rather, it becomes faint whispers of something that has happened, maybe only something that could have happened… when I reach out to grab them… well, whispers are fairly hard to catch. So ultimately, I almost want someone to tell me what the point is.
I’m sifting and I’m drifting, surrounded by the sea, and the answers don’t lie here. Luckily I have no bricks to drown me. Hopefully I’m heading somewhere, but I don’t think that I’ll ever get all of the answers that I want. For now I need to get adjusted to the time… and it’s almost 2 a.m.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Friday, December 02, 2005
What is the Truth?
What is identity?
Identity = Haile + Marsha. It is Samra G! It's still JambaJuice, La Salsa, Grinders, and Italian Colors. It's chorus, soccer, and volleyball. Identity is loving harmony in all aspecs of my life: singing, but also physically, mentally, and emotionally. It is three special bracelets that I wear everyday on my left wrist, all presents from three special women. It is having soft, smooth, arms that I love that other people love. It's my digital camera... that I lost. Identity is making great pb&j's, and eating way too many. It is not being able to wait to be an amazing mom, wanting three kids, and looking forward to dressing them all in the cutiest, funkiest clothes. It's big, crazy curly hair, a funny ear, stretch marks on my hips, and a weird lisp thing. Identity is loving music and appreciating the arts. It's being a fine food afficionado. It is a terrible shopping addiction, unfortunately for my parents, particularly to expensive clothing. Identity is ADHD, ODD, John Muir Medical Center, bipolar, Colorado. It is loving too hard and, more often than not, suffering from the backlash. It is loving bright colors, but often feeling dark. It's the East Bay and HRS, Addis and ICS. It's everyone that I meet, everything I see, each thing I experience. My identity is reduced for many of you to an assortment of empty words t hat I strew together in an attempt to sew some sort of meaning.
Family. Home. Identity.
And what is the truth? Somehow all of these concepts have changed for me. I now realize how fickle they are, that they're constantly changing. I have known someone for only three months, and already she's my sister. As much as I love my home and am excited to go back IN ONLY 2 WEEKS, I honestly wouldn't mind staying in Addis for the holiday. And my identity? Who I am is always transforming as I learn and grow. I used to fancy myself as a woman of the world, but that was largely because I wanted to avoid defining myself as black, mixed, white, Ethiopian American; I didn't want to confine myself to some check-mark on a standardized exam. Now I realize how naive and ignorant I was in my perception. While I valued diversity and had traveled some, what did I truly know about the world? Attending an incredibly international school in Ethiopia opens my eyes to so much more, yet I still don't believe that I can fairly call myself "a woman of the world." Sure, it may be the easy way out, but when do we ever really know who we are? We have our body, our experiences, our morals. Yet each day brings us something new. We are always blooming, always adapting, never the same. I am Samra G! I am half Ethiopian and half white-American. I have lived my whole life until this year in Oakland, California. I have DNA and certain experiences that differentiate me from the rest of the population of this planet, but from there I'm just a sheet of paper. There are some things scribbled on me, some things that have been erased, still a lot of blank room for change. And you know, that's ok. That's ok.
Identity = Haile + Marsha. It is Samra G! It's still JambaJuice, La Salsa, Grinders, and Italian Colors. It's chorus, soccer, and volleyball. Identity is loving harmony in all aspecs of my life: singing, but also physically, mentally, and emotionally. It is three special bracelets that I wear everyday on my left wrist, all presents from three special women. It is having soft, smooth, arms that I love that other people love. It's my digital camera... that I lost. Identity is making great pb&j's, and eating way too many. It is not being able to wait to be an amazing mom, wanting three kids, and looking forward to dressing them all in the cutiest, funkiest clothes. It's big, crazy curly hair, a funny ear, stretch marks on my hips, and a weird lisp thing. Identity is loving music and appreciating the arts. It's being a fine food afficionado. It is a terrible shopping addiction, unfortunately for my parents, particularly to expensive clothing. Identity is ADHD, ODD, John Muir Medical Center, bipolar, Colorado. It is loving too hard and, more often than not, suffering from the backlash. It is loving bright colors, but often feeling dark. It's the East Bay and HRS, Addis and ICS. It's everyone that I meet, everything I see, each thing I experience. My identity is reduced for many of you to an assortment of empty words t hat I strew together in an attempt to sew some sort of meaning.
Family. Home. Identity.
And what is the truth? Somehow all of these concepts have changed for me. I now realize how fickle they are, that they're constantly changing. I have known someone for only three months, and already she's my sister. As much as I love my home and am excited to go back IN ONLY 2 WEEKS, I honestly wouldn't mind staying in Addis for the holiday. And my identity? Who I am is always transforming as I learn and grow. I used to fancy myself as a woman of the world, but that was largely because I wanted to avoid defining myself as black, mixed, white, Ethiopian American; I didn't want to confine myself to some check-mark on a standardized exam. Now I realize how naive and ignorant I was in my perception. While I valued diversity and had traveled some, what did I truly know about the world? Attending an incredibly international school in Ethiopia opens my eyes to so much more, yet I still don't believe that I can fairly call myself "a woman of the world." Sure, it may be the easy way out, but when do we ever really know who we are? We have our body, our experiences, our morals. Yet each day brings us something new. We are always blooming, always adapting, never the same. I am Samra G! I am half Ethiopian and half white-American. I have lived my whole life until this year in Oakland, California. I have DNA and certain experiences that differentiate me from the rest of the population of this planet, but from there I'm just a sheet of paper. There are some things scribbled on me, some things that have been erased, still a lot of blank room for change. And you know, that's ok. That's ok.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Found
Well, my mommy is here. And it’s nice. I feel centered and strong. As silly-hippiesh as it sounds. But I was straying, despite all the fun that I was having. I’m still only 16. Well, nearly 17. As much as I would like to believe I am oh-so grown-up, sophisticated, and mature. Independence is not quite as easy as it seems. It becomes too easy to get lost when you are alone. You no longer have those tall shadows gently prodding at your heels, guiding you. But now everything will be all right. I can draw strength from her touch, faith from her presence, bliss from her love. Yeah. I am found.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Tournaments and Turbulence
Written on Tuesday, November 8, 2005
Wow, with so much to say, where do I even begin? Hmm, I suppose first we’ll do South Africa. So, I arrived back at Addis yesterday morning. The flight was hellish. We had woken up at 7 on Sunday morning, been out shopping and watching a movie all day, and then had a midnight flight from Joburg to Nairobi. We arrived at Nairobi about 5:45 in the morning, and yes it was fairly impossible to sleep decently on the plane. Then we had about a one-and-a-half-hour layover in the airport there, and then left for Addis. We got in around 10 a.m.
Anyway, South Africa was so much fun. The tournament was great, and the girls actually placed really well. We got second place in volleyball (and we could have won it all), and fourth place in soccer. This is out of 6 teams. But 4th sounds a lot worse than it actually is. We were the 5th seed, we played the 4th seed, and the winner of that match would play the number 1 seed, and the winner of that would go on to play the championship round, the loser would play for 3rd place. The 3rd seed played the 6th seed, the winner would play the 2nd seed, the winner would go on to the championship round, the loser would play for 3rd. So, as I said we were the 5th seed and played the 4th seed, LISU, the International School of Uganda. Don’t ask me what the “l” stands for. I scored two goals, one of them was a beautiful left footer that went right into the right corner of the goal, and we won the game 2-0. We went on to play the number one seed, who we had lost to 1-0 the day before, but we really made them work hard. At the end of the game we were still tied 0-0, so we went into 10 minutes of sudden death overtime. We switched sides at 5 minutes, and at the end of the full ten, the game was still 0-0. So, we took penalty shots, since it was 6-a-side-soccer, five players from each team would shoot on the other team’s goalie. The other team, ISK, International School of Kenya, made their very first goal, and no others. We made none. Thus the game was over. We played for 3rd place and lost 1-0. ISK went on to win the soccer championship versus AISJ, the American International School of Johannesburg, the host school, and they also later beat us in 3 sets of volleyball.
As disappointing as it was to not win when we were so close and could have done so well, I am really proud of my team. We played really well and put so much spirit into what we were doing. Also, we won the sportsmanship award for being so spirited. We were always cheering each other on with our dorky but really fun cheers, and whenever we were down we were always trying to pick each other back up. After every game, win or lose, we had a tradition of doing our Seleme cheer. It’s an Ethiopian cheer that you hear a lot at track races and whatnot, and it’s really simple. One person calls “Seleme, seleme” and the rest of the team responds “oye seleme, aha.” It has a certain tune/incantation to it, and is really nice. We added our own twist at the end of it by going “aha” “aha aha” back and forth, back and forth. So, after every game we would get into a circle with our arms linked around each others’ backs and sing seleme, walking around, and at the end jumping and clapping our hands. It became a really nice tradition, and all of the teams loved it. Near the end of the tournament, teams even joined us in it. So, we were really liked by everyone for our good spirit, and we got to meet some pretty cool people from other schools. I also made the all-star team for volleyball.
So, yeah, South Africa rocked. It was really nice to be back in a fairly 1st world country. People actually drove within their lane, even if they were driving in the wrong direction (it’s British style where the driver’s seat is on the right side, and so you drive up on the left side, instead of down… if that makes sense). One scary thing that happened was that I fainted. AISJ used to be a boarding school, and the first night we got in to Joburg too late to go to our host family’s homes, so we instead stayed at the school in the dorms, the boys in the gym. The next morning I woke up earlier than we had to, so I decided to seize the opportunity and take a shower since I had the time and the showers were open. As I was showering I slammed my elbow on the hot water handle, and it just hit a nerve. My entire arm went limp and felt really heavy; I tried to move it, but I couldn’t, it was too hard and hurt too much. I began to feel really dizzy and felt like I needed to barf, and thought to myself that I should probably get out of the shower. But there was this other reasoning voice in my head that told me “no, you have to stay, you haven’t finished your shower yet.” So I kept on showering, and suddenly found myself slumped on the floor with my back against the shower door. I got up and started showering again, but next thing I know I was back on the floor and two girls Sarah and Thea had opened the door and were helping me to get up, to get out. They told me to go sit on top of the toilet seat and take a breath, and someone went to get a teacher. Next thing I knew I was again sprawled on the floor next to the toilet and Ms. Ashby was hovering over me. After that I was fine, I made it to my room, drank some water, had some raisins and little snacks, but it was really scary. I wouldn’t have fainted in the shower had I not slammed my elbow, that seemed to be the catalyst; but I also probably wouldn’t have fainted if I wasn’t under the conditions that I was: exhaustion from traveling, I was probably dehydrated, and a lot of stress from a number of things. It was my first time fainting, but hey, I’m still here. Anyway, we got to go shopping, we saw a movie, and we went to the apartheid museum (which sounds like it would be really cool, but it kind of sucked). Speaking of apartheid, sure it’s over, but it’s only been a little over 10 years. I could still see a rift between black and white. It all seemed very segregated; even at AISJ, not many South Africans attend the school. I just didn’t feel comfortable with myself. Maybe a lot of it was in my head, or because I was coming from Ethiopia where I don’t think I could feel more comfortable and beautiful, but it just felt like a lot of the white people didn’t look at me as openly and acceptingly.
But moving on. Now I’m back home in Addis, and it seems that I’ll be absent from school for even longer. A lot of people aren’t attending schools because it’s still kind of dangerous to be out. ICS is one of the only schools actually open this week, but it’s not at all mandatory to attend. For a lot of the kids who live right next to school it’s easy to get there without any trouble, but for those living in CMC, we have to cross a lot of terrain, and who knows what you’ll come across. Nearly all of the opposition party has been imprisoned, and a lot of innocent boys have just been picked up off of the street as well. Betty’s cousin, and thus my cousin, Fafi, lives in a kind of rough neighborhood, and a lot of his friends have just been taken to jail for not having done anything. Supposedly they go to concentration camp type of things to pick cotton, they don’t just sit in jail in Addis. Betty also said that these boys were going to be used to fight a war against Eritrea, but that seems… I don’t know, ludicrous. But not many people are out, and CMC has become a sort of refugee camp. It’s a closed compound where a lot of diplomats and foreigners live, so if any attack were to happen here or too close, big international stuff would go down. A lot of kids who live nearby come and hang out here, and it seems like there are always people out walking around the compound, so as not to go stir crazy in their homes. It was actually so weird, this week is a sit-in strike as well, so that’s another reason why a lot of people aren’t going out, but as I came home from the airport, it just wasn’t Addis. The streets were so quiet and empty. I saw six little taxis the entire way, and the streets are usually jampacked everywhere. I think everything will have to blow over soon enough, it won’t blow up. I do know several people who have left the country, though. We’ll see how it all goes. Oh, my mom is coming in a week. I said she shouldn’t come now because it’s dangerous, but she had a superb counter-argument: if it’s too dangerous for her to come, it’s too dangerous for me to be here. So it’ll be really nice to see her.
So, all for now. For those of you who want to know more about the political situation here, and the social stability, it’s apparently all over bbc. Also, anyone interested in learning more about the tournament in Joburg, a website was made for it. I don’t remember the address, but if you google search AISJ, I’m sure there’s a link somewhere on their site to it. I’ll write back when I can. Until then…
Wow, with so much to say, where do I even begin? Hmm, I suppose first we’ll do South Africa. So, I arrived back at Addis yesterday morning. The flight was hellish. We had woken up at 7 on Sunday morning, been out shopping and watching a movie all day, and then had a midnight flight from Joburg to Nairobi. We arrived at Nairobi about 5:45 in the morning, and yes it was fairly impossible to sleep decently on the plane. Then we had about a one-and-a-half-hour layover in the airport there, and then left for Addis. We got in around 10 a.m.
Anyway, South Africa was so much fun. The tournament was great, and the girls actually placed really well. We got second place in volleyball (and we could have won it all), and fourth place in soccer. This is out of 6 teams. But 4th sounds a lot worse than it actually is. We were the 5th seed, we played the 4th seed, and the winner of that match would play the number 1 seed, and the winner of that would go on to play the championship round, the loser would play for 3rd place. The 3rd seed played the 6th seed, the winner would play the 2nd seed, the winner would go on to the championship round, the loser would play for 3rd. So, as I said we were the 5th seed and played the 4th seed, LISU, the International School of Uganda. Don’t ask me what the “l” stands for. I scored two goals, one of them was a beautiful left footer that went right into the right corner of the goal, and we won the game 2-0. We went on to play the number one seed, who we had lost to 1-0 the day before, but we really made them work hard. At the end of the game we were still tied 0-0, so we went into 10 minutes of sudden death overtime. We switched sides at 5 minutes, and at the end of the full ten, the game was still 0-0. So, we took penalty shots, since it was 6-a-side-soccer, five players from each team would shoot on the other team’s goalie. The other team, ISK, International School of Kenya, made their very first goal, and no others. We made none. Thus the game was over. We played for 3rd place and lost 1-0. ISK went on to win the soccer championship versus AISJ, the American International School of Johannesburg, the host school, and they also later beat us in 3 sets of volleyball.
As disappointing as it was to not win when we were so close and could have done so well, I am really proud of my team. We played really well and put so much spirit into what we were doing. Also, we won the sportsmanship award for being so spirited. We were always cheering each other on with our dorky but really fun cheers, and whenever we were down we were always trying to pick each other back up. After every game, win or lose, we had a tradition of doing our Seleme cheer. It’s an Ethiopian cheer that you hear a lot at track races and whatnot, and it’s really simple. One person calls “Seleme, seleme” and the rest of the team responds “oye seleme, aha.” It has a certain tune/incantation to it, and is really nice. We added our own twist at the end of it by going “aha” “aha aha” back and forth, back and forth. So, after every game we would get into a circle with our arms linked around each others’ backs and sing seleme, walking around, and at the end jumping and clapping our hands. It became a really nice tradition, and all of the teams loved it. Near the end of the tournament, teams even joined us in it. So, we were really liked by everyone for our good spirit, and we got to meet some pretty cool people from other schools. I also made the all-star team for volleyball.
So, yeah, South Africa rocked. It was really nice to be back in a fairly 1st world country. People actually drove within their lane, even if they were driving in the wrong direction (it’s British style where the driver’s seat is on the right side, and so you drive up on the left side, instead of down… if that makes sense). One scary thing that happened was that I fainted. AISJ used to be a boarding school, and the first night we got in to Joburg too late to go to our host family’s homes, so we instead stayed at the school in the dorms, the boys in the gym. The next morning I woke up earlier than we had to, so I decided to seize the opportunity and take a shower since I had the time and the showers were open. As I was showering I slammed my elbow on the hot water handle, and it just hit a nerve. My entire arm went limp and felt really heavy; I tried to move it, but I couldn’t, it was too hard and hurt too much. I began to feel really dizzy and felt like I needed to barf, and thought to myself that I should probably get out of the shower. But there was this other reasoning voice in my head that told me “no, you have to stay, you haven’t finished your shower yet.” So I kept on showering, and suddenly found myself slumped on the floor with my back against the shower door. I got up and started showering again, but next thing I know I was back on the floor and two girls Sarah and Thea had opened the door and were helping me to get up, to get out. They told me to go sit on top of the toilet seat and take a breath, and someone went to get a teacher. Next thing I knew I was again sprawled on the floor next to the toilet and Ms. Ashby was hovering over me. After that I was fine, I made it to my room, drank some water, had some raisins and little snacks, but it was really scary. I wouldn’t have fainted in the shower had I not slammed my elbow, that seemed to be the catalyst; but I also probably wouldn’t have fainted if I wasn’t under the conditions that I was: exhaustion from traveling, I was probably dehydrated, and a lot of stress from a number of things. It was my first time fainting, but hey, I’m still here. Anyway, we got to go shopping, we saw a movie, and we went to the apartheid museum (which sounds like it would be really cool, but it kind of sucked). Speaking of apartheid, sure it’s over, but it’s only been a little over 10 years. I could still see a rift between black and white. It all seemed very segregated; even at AISJ, not many South Africans attend the school. I just didn’t feel comfortable with myself. Maybe a lot of it was in my head, or because I was coming from Ethiopia where I don’t think I could feel more comfortable and beautiful, but it just felt like a lot of the white people didn’t look at me as openly and acceptingly.
But moving on. Now I’m back home in Addis, and it seems that I’ll be absent from school for even longer. A lot of people aren’t attending schools because it’s still kind of dangerous to be out. ICS is one of the only schools actually open this week, but it’s not at all mandatory to attend. For a lot of the kids who live right next to school it’s easy to get there without any trouble, but for those living in CMC, we have to cross a lot of terrain, and who knows what you’ll come across. Nearly all of the opposition party has been imprisoned, and a lot of innocent boys have just been picked up off of the street as well. Betty’s cousin, and thus my cousin, Fafi, lives in a kind of rough neighborhood, and a lot of his friends have just been taken to jail for not having done anything. Supposedly they go to concentration camp type of things to pick cotton, they don’t just sit in jail in Addis. Betty also said that these boys were going to be used to fight a war against Eritrea, but that seems… I don’t know, ludicrous. But not many people are out, and CMC has become a sort of refugee camp. It’s a closed compound where a lot of diplomats and foreigners live, so if any attack were to happen here or too close, big international stuff would go down. A lot of kids who live nearby come and hang out here, and it seems like there are always people out walking around the compound, so as not to go stir crazy in their homes. It was actually so weird, this week is a sit-in strike as well, so that’s another reason why a lot of people aren’t going out, but as I came home from the airport, it just wasn’t Addis. The streets were so quiet and empty. I saw six little taxis the entire way, and the streets are usually jampacked everywhere. I think everything will have to blow over soon enough, it won’t blow up. I do know several people who have left the country, though. We’ll see how it all goes. Oh, my mom is coming in a week. I said she shouldn’t come now because it’s dangerous, but she had a superb counter-argument: if it’s too dangerous for her to come, it’s too dangerous for me to be here. So it’ll be really nice to see her.
So, all for now. For those of you who want to know more about the political situation here, and the social stability, it’s apparently all over bbc. Also, anyone interested in learning more about the tournament in Joburg, a website was made for it. I don’t remember the address, but if you google search AISJ, I’m sure there’s a link somewhere on their site to it. I’ll write back when I can. Until then…
Friday, November 04, 2005
DISORDER!!!
A lot is going on. I don't have the time to tell about it all, but just know, a lot is going on. I never had the chance to write about the political situation in Addis. As soon as I was going to, everything settled. The current government has been ruling for 14 years, taking over after the derg, a bad time in Addis. While I don't know the details, I know that the derg regime was oppressive and corrupt, and then Melas took over 14 years ago with a democratic government, a blessing for Ethiopia. However, he made a lot of promises that he didn't act on. Recently there was an election, and the opposition against Melas' government was probably going to win. Melas swayed the ballots in many areas so that he could win. He is becoming corrupt and oppresive, just as the derg was. Now the opposition is fighting back. While the two parties claimed to be making peace and agreements with each other, they made no headway. Starting on Tuesday there were riots in the city. Now 40 people have died, and there have been attacks on expat homes. There was even a man shooting outside of Samet, a restaurant behind ICS that we hang out at a lot. I really really hope the situation calms down and doesn't explode. I really really hope that everyone in Addis is fine. I'm currently in South Africa at our ISSEA tournament. If the situation in Addis worsens, then we'll stay here an extra week. No matter what, I'm safe, but what about everyone at home? As for a tournament update, our boys aren't doing too well b/c of their lack of spirit, and they just don't really get along. We, however, have won all of our volleyball games thus far, even beating the champions from last year. Soccer, we've lost 2 games 1-0, tied 1-1, and we just won 1-0. This is all I can write for now, because I'm already late to go warm up for our next soccer game. Please, send good thoughts to those still in Addis.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
There's No Place Like Home
It feels like it’s been a long vacation. Temporary. It feels like it’s been as unimportant and unreal as a dream. Artificial. It feels like it’s been a piling of good stories to return home with. Thrilling. At the end of the day, despite everything that I’m learning and experiencing here, my concept of home is only further reinforced. My home is Oakland, the Bay Area, California, the United States of America. Sound familiar?
Friday was a good day: It was a half day; after school we went out to lunch at Family Restaurant; I went back to school and had a great Amharic lesson; Abiy took me to a little movie souk by his house and helped me rent movies; I embarked on a week off of school before we leave for South Africa. As Abiy and I drove home I was in a good mood, one of the best since I’ve been here. Everything had just worked out really well. I truly felt at home among the chaotic streets, the pedestrians walking alongside cars, the herds of sheep randomly at corners waiting to be sold into their death. And then I started thinking about what home is to me.
Home is people and places. It is knowing that we’re almost there because of the trees on Highway 13. It is the view of the San Francisco Bay at night. Home is meeting mom at the Peet’s in Montclair, getting a Caffe Freddo, and running errands. It’s going from running down the hill to the 605 bus stop in front of the empty lot, to driving to school and walking down from the lot with friends. Home is sitting on the patio harmonizing, going to blend with Charlie’s Angels, and having lunchtime talks with my teddy bear of joy. It’s getting in driving hours with mom along Grizzly Peak and meeting dad for dinner. It’s talking about going on runs around Lake Merritt, and at least beginning to go to the Farmer’s Market there. It’s knowing that the order is College, Telegraph, Shattuck, and San Pablo, and that the best gas prices are at Shattuck and 52nd. Home is deciding between Fenton’s and Yogurt Park. It is shopping by Campus, in San Francisco, throughout Emeryville, and desperately trying to avoid suburban Stoneridge and Sun Valley. It’s waving at neighbors you barely know and chatting with others you’ve known your whole life. It is 106.1 KMEL and Chewy Gomez, and 102.9 KBLX and Cousin Kevin Brown. Home is colorful, busy, summer is between July and October. It is every type of food you could want, but it gets expensive. It is boys that I love; some say, “DOON,” some are incredible actors, some are talented musicians and hippie-dancers, some look good in baseball pants, and some have been by my side through it all… I find something to argue about with most of them. Home is far away from where I am, and despite as unreal as my life here seems sometimes, home is even more illusory. I look back on it as a poignant memory, a happy reminiscence. Was it all just a dream?
As much as some people try to tell me this, Ethiopia, is my home, it’s not. And I’m OK with that. Because the home that I have is wonderful, beautiful, interesting, filled with people and places that make me happy. I love it.
Friday was a good day: It was a half day; after school we went out to lunch at Family Restaurant; I went back to school and had a great Amharic lesson; Abiy took me to a little movie souk by his house and helped me rent movies; I embarked on a week off of school before we leave for South Africa. As Abiy and I drove home I was in a good mood, one of the best since I’ve been here. Everything had just worked out really well. I truly felt at home among the chaotic streets, the pedestrians walking alongside cars, the herds of sheep randomly at corners waiting to be sold into their death. And then I started thinking about what home is to me.
Home is people and places. It is knowing that we’re almost there because of the trees on Highway 13. It is the view of the San Francisco Bay at night. Home is meeting mom at the Peet’s in Montclair, getting a Caffe Freddo, and running errands. It’s going from running down the hill to the 605 bus stop in front of the empty lot, to driving to school and walking down from the lot with friends. Home is sitting on the patio harmonizing, going to blend with Charlie’s Angels, and having lunchtime talks with my teddy bear of joy. It’s getting in driving hours with mom along Grizzly Peak and meeting dad for dinner. It’s talking about going on runs around Lake Merritt, and at least beginning to go to the Farmer’s Market there. It’s knowing that the order is College, Telegraph, Shattuck, and San Pablo, and that the best gas prices are at Shattuck and 52nd. Home is deciding between Fenton’s and Yogurt Park. It is shopping by Campus, in San Francisco, throughout Emeryville, and desperately trying to avoid suburban Stoneridge and Sun Valley. It’s waving at neighbors you barely know and chatting with others you’ve known your whole life. It is 106.1 KMEL and Chewy Gomez, and 102.9 KBLX and Cousin Kevin Brown. Home is colorful, busy, summer is between July and October. It is every type of food you could want, but it gets expensive. It is boys that I love; some say, “DOON,” some are incredible actors, some are talented musicians and hippie-dancers, some look good in baseball pants, and some have been by my side through it all… I find something to argue about with most of them. Home is far away from where I am, and despite as unreal as my life here seems sometimes, home is even more illusory. I look back on it as a poignant memory, a happy reminiscence. Was it all just a dream?
As much as some people try to tell me this, Ethiopia, is my home, it’s not. And I’m OK with that. Because the home that I have is wonderful, beautiful, interesting, filled with people and places that make me happy. I love it.
There's No Place Like Home
It feels like it’s been a long vacation. Temporary. It feels like it’s been as unimportant and unreal as a dream. Artificial. It feels like it’s been a piling of good stories to return home with. Thrilling. At the end of the day, despite everything that I’m learning and experiencing here, my concept of home is only further reinforced. My home is Oakland, the Bay Area, California, the United States of America. Sound familiar?
Friday was a good day: It was a half day; after school we went out to lunch at Family Restaurant; I went back to school and had a great Amharic lesson; Abiy took me to a little movie souk by his house and helped me rent movies; I embarked on a week off of school before we leave for South Africa. As Abiy and I drove home I was in a good mood, one of the best since I’ve been here. Everything had just worked out really well. I truly felt at home among the chaotic streets, the pedestrians walking alongside cars, the herds of sheep randomly at corners waiting to be sold into their death. And then I started thinking about what home is to me.
Home is people and places. It is knowing that we’re almost there because of the trees on Highway 13. It is the view of the San Francisco Bay at night. Home is meeting mom at the Peet’s in Montclair, getting a Caffe Freddo, and running errands. It’s going from running down the hill to the 605 bus stop in front of the empty lot, to driving to school and walking down from the lot with friends. Home is sitting on the patio harmonizing, going to blend with Charlie’s Angels, and having lunchtime talks with my teddy bear of joy. It’s getting in driving hours with mom along Grizzly Peak and meeting dad for dinner. It’s talking about going on runs around Lake Merritt, and at least beginning to go to the Farmer’s Market there. It’s knowing that the order is College, Telegraph, Shattuck, and San Pablo, and that the best gas prices are at Shattuck and 52nd. Home is deciding between Fenton’s and Yogurt Park. It is shopping by Campus, in San Francisco, throughout Emeryville, and desperately trying to avoid suburban Stoneridge and Sun Valley. It’s waving at neighbors you barely know and chatting with others you’ve known your whole life. It is 106.1 KMEL and Chewy Gomez, and 102.9 KBLX and Cousin Kevin Brown. Home is colorful, busy, summer is between July and October. It is every type of food you could want, but it gets expensive. It is boys that I love; some say, “DOON,” some are incredible actors, some are talented musicians and hippie-dancers, some look good in baseball pants, and some have been by my side through it all… I find something to argue about with most of them. Home is far away from where I am, and despite as unreal as my life here seems sometimes, home is even more illusory. I look back on it as a poignant memory, a happy reminiscence. Was it all just a dream?
As much as some people try to tell me this, Ethiopia, is my home, it’s not. And I’m OK with that. Because the home that I have is wonderful, beautiful, interesting, filled with people and places that make me happy. I love it.
Friday was a good day: It was a half day; after school we went out to lunch at Family Restaurant; I went back to school and had a great Amharic lesson; Abiy took me to a little movie souk by his house and helped me rent movies; I embarked on a week off of school before we leave for South Africa. As Abiy and I drove home I was in a good mood, one of the best since I’ve been here. Everything had just worked out really well. I truly felt at home among the chaotic streets, the pedestrians walking alongside cars, the herds of sheep randomly at corners waiting to be sold into their death. And then I started thinking about what home is to me.
Home is people and places. It is knowing that we’re almost there because of the trees on Highway 13. It is the view of the San Francisco Bay at night. Home is meeting mom at the Peet’s in Montclair, getting a Caffe Freddo, and running errands. It’s going from running down the hill to the 605 bus stop in front of the empty lot, to driving to school and walking down from the lot with friends. Home is sitting on the patio harmonizing, going to blend with Charlie’s Angels, and having lunchtime talks with my teddy bear of joy. It’s getting in driving hours with mom along Grizzly Peak and meeting dad for dinner. It’s talking about going on runs around Lake Merritt, and at least beginning to go to the Farmer’s Market there. It’s knowing that the order is College, Telegraph, Shattuck, and San Pablo, and that the best gas prices are at Shattuck and 52nd. Home is deciding between Fenton’s and Yogurt Park. It is shopping by Campus, in San Francisco, throughout Emeryville, and desperately trying to avoid suburban Stoneridge and Sun Valley. It’s waving at neighbors you barely know and chatting with others you’ve known your whole life. It is 106.1 KMEL and Chewy Gomez, and 102.9 KBLX and Cousin Kevin Brown. Home is colorful, busy, summer is between July and October. It is every type of food you could want, but it gets expensive. It is boys that I love; some say, “DOON,” some are incredible actors, some are talented musicians and hippie-dancers, some look good in baseball pants, and some have been by my side through it all… I find something to argue about with most of them. Home is far away from where I am, and despite as unreal as my life here seems sometimes, home is even more illusory. I look back on it as a poignant memory, a happy reminiscence. Was it all just a dream?
As much as some people try to tell me this, Ethiopia, is my home, it’s not. And I’m OK with that. Because the home that I have is wonderful, beautiful, interesting, filled with people and places that make me happy. I love it.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Disgraceful
The longer I’ve been here, the more I realize what a bubble life is. Similar to home and Head-Royce, ICS and the world I’m experiencing in Addis is so confined and protected. It’s the life of the elite, the well off, a life where you really don’t have to worry about anything. Sure there are those with problems like asthma or family issues, and I’m not trying to play those down. Everyone has their difficulties in life. But only a very small percentage of the kids I meet ever actually have something serious to worry about, a fatal illness or the death of a mother. Life at ICS is so sheltered. None of these kids have ever had to worry about surviving until tomorrow, escaping bullets or scavenging for food. Mom and dad are diplomats, UN officials, own the biggest enterprises in Ethiopia. These kids go to school during the week and go out clubbing during the weekends, with their drivers always there to drop them off and pick them up. I’m not trying to make it sound as if rich people don’t have their own problems to battle, or that I’m above it all, because I am just as spoiled and take a lot for granted. But I think it’s sad how enclosed they are, even just from Ethiopian culture. For example, there are those who have lived here for nearly their whole life, or even just five years, and don’t even speak a word of Amharic. It’s disgraceful. I don’t know, that’s basically all I have to say for now. I’m not feeling very wordy, I’m pretty exhausted. I know it’s been forever since I’ve posted a proper blog, but I’ve been super busy and stressed between school and sports, but I’ll get back on it soon. I get out of school at 11:35 both Thursday and Friday, and I don’t have school next week. Then the following Tuesday we leave for our tournament in South Africa! I can’t believe it’s come up so quickly. This Sunday is going to be one month with my boyfriend, and again, I can’t believe how time has rushed by. Ah, and so it goes. Until we meet again… g!
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Upcoming Events!
So, I’ve been bad about keeping this updated recently. That last blog about the accident, I wrote 2 weeks ago… yeah. So, sorry about that. Anyway, life is good. It’s Monday night, and we didn’t have school today, and we don’t have school tomorrow, because tomorrow’s Meskel, this big holiday. I love long weekends. And I have so much more to look forward to! This Friday there’s a Sandford party. Basically, the schools host parties and it’s open to kids from other schools; the money goes to pay for their prom usually I think. Basically it’s like school dances, except the way they used to be in middle school when we were joined with Redwood Day and St. Paul’s, etc. So, even though Sandford parties are supposed to be outrageously weak, we’re going. Betty and I are going to make the party happen haha. Or make it rock as Betty would say. She goes through phases of phrases that she really, really overuses. Her thing right now is making that rocker symbol with her hands and screaming in this annoying voice, “DUDE YOU ROCK!” Soooo, yeah. Also, a lot of people that we’ve seen recently have been like, “No, you guys have to come,” menamen, menamen, so hopefully it’ll be fun.
Then, not Saturday as in the day after the Sandford party, but the following Saturday, Sally and Veerle are having a joint 18th birthday party. They’re renting out Trend, this club in Dembel, this shopping mall, and it has a beach theme. I think that it’ll be OUTRAGEOUSLY nice, because Trend itself is pretty nice and hip, they’re getting a good deal for it, the club will be closed to the public until midnight, and it’s just going to ROCK! Haha. We’re going to cut the cake at 12. Yay, I’m excited! And I get to help and have this important position kind of, because I’ve offered my help, I’m friends with them and they trust me, and it’s their 18th birthdays and deserve to not worry and basically just have a blast. Ahh, it’s going to be incredible. And I’m borrowing this super cute shirt from Betty, but it’s black and doesn’t really go with their beach theme, but I don’t really care, so oh well.
Hmm, so their party is on October 8th. Then I have two weeks of school, and then I have a week off! YESSSSS! I don’t know why, it’s just a fall break. That’ll be really nice, except for the fact that Betty and Danny and Menna have school. Oh well, I’m pretty good at taking the public taxis now, and I basically know about how much it costs from place to place, so maybe I’ll just ride around by myself and meet up with people. Or maybe not. We’ll see. Anyway, I have a week off, and then the next week we have our tournament in South Africa! I’m so excited for that, but I can’t believe how soon it is! And then when we get back from South Africa I’ll be coming home in… about a month and a week… and a half. It’s kind of crazy, time is going to fly by. Betty and I were talking about having a party. I leave on December 16 to come home, so we thought maybe we’d have a party on the 9th or 10th for Betty’s birthday/goodbye-to-me-for-3-weeks. Haha, I kind of doubt that it’ll happen, but it would be fun if it did. And over spring break I’m either meeting my parents in Cairo and staying with friends of ours that live there (which would be incredible), or going to Seychelles (which would also be incredible). And then at the end of the school year I’m meeting my parents in Europe. OH MY GOD I LOVE MY LIFE. And I officially have a boyfriend. As of Friday, and I’m doing well in school, and I’m deputy captain (which is like vice captain) of soccer! Yay for me! So yeah, things are falling into place. Love always… g!
Then, not Saturday as in the day after the Sandford party, but the following Saturday, Sally and Veerle are having a joint 18th birthday party. They’re renting out Trend, this club in Dembel, this shopping mall, and it has a beach theme. I think that it’ll be OUTRAGEOUSLY nice, because Trend itself is pretty nice and hip, they’re getting a good deal for it, the club will be closed to the public until midnight, and it’s just going to ROCK! Haha. We’re going to cut the cake at 12. Yay, I’m excited! And I get to help and have this important position kind of, because I’ve offered my help, I’m friends with them and they trust me, and it’s their 18th birthdays and deserve to not worry and basically just have a blast. Ahh, it’s going to be incredible. And I’m borrowing this super cute shirt from Betty, but it’s black and doesn’t really go with their beach theme, but I don’t really care, so oh well.
Hmm, so their party is on October 8th. Then I have two weeks of school, and then I have a week off! YESSSSS! I don’t know why, it’s just a fall break. That’ll be really nice, except for the fact that Betty and Danny and Menna have school. Oh well, I’m pretty good at taking the public taxis now, and I basically know about how much it costs from place to place, so maybe I’ll just ride around by myself and meet up with people. Or maybe not. We’ll see. Anyway, I have a week off, and then the next week we have our tournament in South Africa! I’m so excited for that, but I can’t believe how soon it is! And then when we get back from South Africa I’ll be coming home in… about a month and a week… and a half. It’s kind of crazy, time is going to fly by. Betty and I were talking about having a party. I leave on December 16 to come home, so we thought maybe we’d have a party on the 9th or 10th for Betty’s birthday/goodbye-to-me-for-3-weeks. Haha, I kind of doubt that it’ll happen, but it would be fun if it did. And over spring break I’m either meeting my parents in Cairo and staying with friends of ours that live there (which would be incredible), or going to Seychelles (which would also be incredible). And then at the end of the school year I’m meeting my parents in Europe. OH MY GOD I LOVE MY LIFE. And I officially have a boyfriend. As of Friday, and I’m doing well in school, and I’m deputy captain (which is like vice captain) of soccer! Yay for me! So yeah, things are falling into place. Love always… g!
The Accident
A couple of Tuesday mornings ago we left kind of late for school. CMC is on the other side of the city in comparison to ICS, so we have a long drive. Abiy was rushing, shaking back his jacket sleeve to check his watch every five minutes, and muttering incomprehensibly under his breath. He normally drives very safely considering the way people drive here, but on Tuesday he was driving fast, honking more aggressively at the people trying to walk across the street, and swerving from lane to lane to weave through the cars ahead of us. He really wanted to get us there before school started at 8 a.m.
About half way there the traffic behind one stoplight was a bit heavier than usual. After waiting through two lights we were finally at the front and able to see what was slowing us down. I was kind of waiting for this to happen, not hopefully or expectantly, but considering the way people drive here, it’s inevitable. I’m surprised that it took me an entire month to witness the scene of my first serious accident. At least I didn’t have to watch it happen.
There had been a taxi van going in the direction we were heading in, and a huge olive green military truck coming in the lane perpendicular to it. The truck had smashed into the driver side of the van so hard that it was twisted and mangled like cars you see in the driver’s ed videos. Red Asphalt I believe the series is called. Anyhow, shards of broken glass lay on the concrete surrounding the van, marinating in pools of blood. I wanted to cry. I couldn’t help but think of the person driving the van. And were there any passengers? Speeding down the road the way taxis do, Ethiopian music blasting in your ears, and then out of the corner of your eye something large looming towards you. You turned your head and looked death head on, a monster of a truck hurtling straight towards you. Did you scream, or were you so scared that you couldn’t do anything? Did you say a fast prayer, or were you too focused on slamming on the acceleration to try to avoid the truck? Did you think of your wife or child or mother? They’re thinking about you. It’s not fair, it was so random, so pointless. It was just another day trying to get by, but for some reason…
After that Abiy drove much more carefully. At first I wanted to tell him to go faster because we actually would be late, but I realized that I couldn’t. It shocked him as well, and when we were sitting in the idling car observing the scene and waiting for the light to turn green, he quickly closed his eyes and crossed himself. For about two hours every day we are giving him our lives, and there is no greater responsibility in the world than controlling the fate of others’ lives. We arrived at school around 7:55 a.m.
About half way there the traffic behind one stoplight was a bit heavier than usual. After waiting through two lights we were finally at the front and able to see what was slowing us down. I was kind of waiting for this to happen, not hopefully or expectantly, but considering the way people drive here, it’s inevitable. I’m surprised that it took me an entire month to witness the scene of my first serious accident. At least I didn’t have to watch it happen.
There had been a taxi van going in the direction we were heading in, and a huge olive green military truck coming in the lane perpendicular to it. The truck had smashed into the driver side of the van so hard that it was twisted and mangled like cars you see in the driver’s ed videos. Red Asphalt I believe the series is called. Anyhow, shards of broken glass lay on the concrete surrounding the van, marinating in pools of blood. I wanted to cry. I couldn’t help but think of the person driving the van. And were there any passengers? Speeding down the road the way taxis do, Ethiopian music blasting in your ears, and then out of the corner of your eye something large looming towards you. You turned your head and looked death head on, a monster of a truck hurtling straight towards you. Did you scream, or were you so scared that you couldn’t do anything? Did you say a fast prayer, or were you too focused on slamming on the acceleration to try to avoid the truck? Did you think of your wife or child or mother? They’re thinking about you. It’s not fair, it was so random, so pointless. It was just another day trying to get by, but for some reason…
After that Abiy drove much more carefully. At first I wanted to tell him to go faster because we actually would be late, but I realized that I couldn’t. It shocked him as well, and when we were sitting in the idling car observing the scene and waiting for the light to turn green, he quickly closed his eyes and crossed himself. For about two hours every day we are giving him our lives, and there is no greater responsibility in the world than controlling the fate of others’ lives. We arrived at school around 7:55 a.m.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
What is Family?
What is family?
Family is sandwich hugs and snuggles when you need them. It is belting out oldies during traffic, and salsa dancing in the kitchen while cooking dinner. It's arguing over how fast to drive t hrough parking lots and which movie to watch tonight. Family is spider solitaire, hearts, and cribbage. It is justifying the amount of money we spent shopping and teaching the boys how to dress. It is choosing between the usuals: Italian colors, Jambajuice, La Salsa, and Grinders. Family picks you up from school when a broken heart hurts too much to bear alone. It is buying you a whole chocolate cake because the bakery doesn't sell slices. It's Brett Dennen, Amos Lee, and Michael Franti, and Berkeley Tuolumne Camp every summer. Family sits on the steps waiting for you return, sleeps on your bed unless dad is in the room, and cocks its head in the most adorable way. It is yelling at you when you don't do the dishes, spend too much time with friends, and make.... bad decisions. Family is blasting rap and hip hop, and trying to bob your head in a "cool" way while driving a gold minivan. It is having a cold. It is crying good tears. Family is being able to love you enough to let you go. Love Invincible.
Family is sandwich hugs and snuggles when you need them. It is belting out oldies during traffic, and salsa dancing in the kitchen while cooking dinner. It's arguing over how fast to drive t hrough parking lots and which movie to watch tonight. Family is spider solitaire, hearts, and cribbage. It is justifying the amount of money we spent shopping and teaching the boys how to dress. It is choosing between the usuals: Italian colors, Jambajuice, La Salsa, and Grinders. Family picks you up from school when a broken heart hurts too much to bear alone. It is buying you a whole chocolate cake because the bakery doesn't sell slices. It's Brett Dennen, Amos Lee, and Michael Franti, and Berkeley Tuolumne Camp every summer. Family sits on the steps waiting for you return, sleeps on your bed unless dad is in the room, and cocks its head in the most adorable way. It is yelling at you when you don't do the dishes, spend too much time with friends, and make.... bad decisions. Family is blasting rap and hip hop, and trying to bob your head in a "cool" way while driving a gold minivan. It is having a cold. It is crying good tears. Family is being able to love you enough to let you go. Love Invincible.
Monday, September 12, 2005
Gone Going...
And now they’ve gone. I don’t know really know what to feel. It was almost a twisted deja vous (however you spell it…) because my uncles had picked us up from the airport, and now they were dropping off. Except not dropping me off.
As we first went into the airport parking lot there was very little traffic, surprising since when we arrived it was absolutely chaotic. As my uncles were walking me back to the cars afterwards there was a lot more traffic. I thought about commenting on it, but it seemed pointless.
Every time my eyes started to well up I suppressed the tears. I wonder if I’ll cry. I wonder when I’ll cry.
As we first went into the airport parking lot there was very little traffic, surprising since when we arrived it was absolutely chaotic. As my uncles were walking me back to the cars afterwards there was a lot more traffic. I thought about commenting on it, but it seemed pointless.
Every time my eyes started to well up I suppressed the tears. I wonder if I’ll cry. I wonder when I’ll cry.
Riding My Bike
So… my family leaves today. In only a few hours. How has a month gone by already? Will an entire school year go by just as fast? In a blaze will it all be gone, over, swallowed by flames in an instant? Each day might seem long, yet you look back and it dawns on you that you slept through it all. How many times didn’t I take advantage of possible moments with my family? I still feel, through and through, that you can’t truly savor the final moments; if you haven’t lived the way you wanted to up until that point, then you can’t really change it. However, those moments are still important. They are still potential memories that you’ve lost. If I could go back in time, I don’t know if I would do anything different though. I suppose I would have been nicer. But if you change the past you mess up the future; I wouldn’t be right here where I am now, as the person I am now.
I’ll miss my parents. Yes, it’s true, I really do love you guys. I’ve learned so much from them, as I know they have from me. More than my parents, they’re my best friends, my pillars of strength, constants that will always be there. They let go of my bicycle, let me pedal on my own and teeter along; when I fall down, they’re there to help pick me up, dust off my knees, and kiss my scratches if I really need them, but first they linger back and wait to see if I can get up on my own. But now that I’m riding on my own, what will happen if I fall down really hard? Now they’re not even sitting on the other side of the playground, chatting with the other parents but always sneaking little galnces out of the corners of their eyes. I guess at least they’ve taught me to always wear my helmet. And so it goes.
On a slightly different note, we ended up going to the Sheraton for New Year’s Eve! Oh my god, I was SO excited! It’s just absolutely inexplicable, there’s no way to verbalize how much I wanted to go. My family went, and Betty’s family went, excluding Menna because she’s too young, and we’d be out to late, menamen. The sad thing about Menna is that we had to lie to her since she’d be really upset that we didn’t tell her; nonetheless she found out, and was really mad and angry. 100 birr fixed that though, haha. It took SUCH long time for us to leave; it started at 7 p.m but we didn’t even leave until about 9. We were all just chilling in my room dressed and ready to go, listening to music, singing along, and Danny and Betty who are really good dancers were busting out some moves. We were just having a good time, and it was actually really nice.
Anyhow, the Sheraton looked incredible, it was beautiful, all lit up and flashing as if it we were in the midst of a war and gunshots and canons were flaring all around us. The cool thing is that I could have talked to Wyclef if I wanted to, he was standing in the lobby just mingling with everyone and taking pictures, whatever, but I didn’t. A lot of my friends did, but I guess I was scared or nervous to or something, but oh well, I don’t really care. But Danny, my “little brother,” did, and they were talking and he mentioned that he really liked dancing, so Wyclef said that he’d challenge him to a battle later on. Wyclef didn’t start playing until a little after midnight, and until then it was just various famous Ethiopian artists, so everyone was just mingling around eating and talking. Everyone was all dressed up and looked really nice, and there were SO many people there! Good God, it was outrageous, I don’t think that I’d ever actually seen a prostitute before, but the way some of these women were dressed…
Anyway, Wyclef started playing and it was really fun, everyone was singing along, some really, really drunkenly. That was definitely one scary thing. We were up in this front section, and obviously everyone wants to be up there because it’s right next to the stage menamen, but that meant that it was really jammed and cramped, and people didn’t really care. Eventually I just had to say, “screw it” and be aggressive myself, or else I would have been trampled; people will just plow past you, spilling their drinks all over you, stepping on your toes, and it gets really frustrating. On top of that, if you’re near men who have been drinking and you seem at all like you’re having a good time by dancing and stuff, they’ll get on you, holding onto your wrists and pulling you along with them. It was really scary, sometimes we would have to pull each other out or very physically push them off and yell at them and stuff. It was very scary, I’ve never been in that position before. But I digress, something absolutely incredible happened. At one point Wyclef was talking into the microphone and said something like, “I met a little boy, about 12 years old, named Danny, who said that he could challenge me dancing. Where is he, come up on stage Danny!” WHAT THE HELL, RIGHT?! You’d never think that something like this would happen! You wouldn’t think that a world-famous celebrity would remember or care about some random boy that he met before a performance. But he calls Danny up onto the stage, and in front of HUNDREDS of people has a dance-off. And Danny, an amazing dancer, holds himself SO well. On stage. He dances. In front of a huge audience. Not to mention this is televised. He’s 11-years-old. It’s basically amazing. I can’t get over it. I’m so proud of him, and happy for him. It’s amazing.
I’ll miss my parents. Yes, it’s true, I really do love you guys. I’ve learned so much from them, as I know they have from me. More than my parents, they’re my best friends, my pillars of strength, constants that will always be there. They let go of my bicycle, let me pedal on my own and teeter along; when I fall down, they’re there to help pick me up, dust off my knees, and kiss my scratches if I really need them, but first they linger back and wait to see if I can get up on my own. But now that I’m riding on my own, what will happen if I fall down really hard? Now they’re not even sitting on the other side of the playground, chatting with the other parents but always sneaking little galnces out of the corners of their eyes. I guess at least they’ve taught me to always wear my helmet. And so it goes.
On a slightly different note, we ended up going to the Sheraton for New Year’s Eve! Oh my god, I was SO excited! It’s just absolutely inexplicable, there’s no way to verbalize how much I wanted to go. My family went, and Betty’s family went, excluding Menna because she’s too young, and we’d be out to late, menamen. The sad thing about Menna is that we had to lie to her since she’d be really upset that we didn’t tell her; nonetheless she found out, and was really mad and angry. 100 birr fixed that though, haha. It took SUCH long time for us to leave; it started at 7 p.m but we didn’t even leave until about 9. We were all just chilling in my room dressed and ready to go, listening to music, singing along, and Danny and Betty who are really good dancers were busting out some moves. We were just having a good time, and it was actually really nice.
Anyhow, the Sheraton looked incredible, it was beautiful, all lit up and flashing as if it we were in the midst of a war and gunshots and canons were flaring all around us. The cool thing is that I could have talked to Wyclef if I wanted to, he was standing in the lobby just mingling with everyone and taking pictures, whatever, but I didn’t. A lot of my friends did, but I guess I was scared or nervous to or something, but oh well, I don’t really care. But Danny, my “little brother,” did, and they were talking and he mentioned that he really liked dancing, so Wyclef said that he’d challenge him to a battle later on. Wyclef didn’t start playing until a little after midnight, and until then it was just various famous Ethiopian artists, so everyone was just mingling around eating and talking. Everyone was all dressed up and looked really nice, and there were SO many people there! Good God, it was outrageous, I don’t think that I’d ever actually seen a prostitute before, but the way some of these women were dressed…
Anyway, Wyclef started playing and it was really fun, everyone was singing along, some really, really drunkenly. That was definitely one scary thing. We were up in this front section, and obviously everyone wants to be up there because it’s right next to the stage menamen, but that meant that it was really jammed and cramped, and people didn’t really care. Eventually I just had to say, “screw it” and be aggressive myself, or else I would have been trampled; people will just plow past you, spilling their drinks all over you, stepping on your toes, and it gets really frustrating. On top of that, if you’re near men who have been drinking and you seem at all like you’re having a good time by dancing and stuff, they’ll get on you, holding onto your wrists and pulling you along with them. It was really scary, sometimes we would have to pull each other out or very physically push them off and yell at them and stuff. It was very scary, I’ve never been in that position before. But I digress, something absolutely incredible happened. At one point Wyclef was talking into the microphone and said something like, “I met a little boy, about 12 years old, named Danny, who said that he could challenge me dancing. Where is he, come up on stage Danny!” WHAT THE HELL, RIGHT?! You’d never think that something like this would happen! You wouldn’t think that a world-famous celebrity would remember or care about some random boy that he met before a performance. But he calls Danny up onto the stage, and in front of HUNDREDS of people has a dance-off. And Danny, an amazing dancer, holds himself SO well. On stage. He dances. In front of a huge audience. Not to mention this is televised. He’s 11-years-old. It’s basically amazing. I can’t get over it. I’m so proud of him, and happy for him. It’s amazing.
Nothing Really Interesting
Hmmm, well, where to start? I don’t really have much to say. It’s Thursday evening, 7:47 p.m., and I had volleyball until five, ate dinner, have already finished what little homework I had, cleaned up my room (a little bit), and have nothing else to do. I’m also outrageously tired. No joke. I think that I could actually fall asleep right now, and it’s not even 8 o’clock. This getting up around 6:20 every morning, going through a full day of school, plus an hour and a half of sports, plus homework is really tiring. Parents think that we have it made, no real responsibilities, life is easy. Yeah, right. Granted, we don’t have families to provide for and bills to pay, but it’s no breeze. We get worked hard.
Anyhow, this Saturday is the Ethiopian New Year. I REALLY REALLY REALLY want to go to the Sheraton (it’s SUPER nice), because Wyclef Jean is coming. For those of you who don’t know who Wyclef is, download Perfect Gentleman, Gone Till November, 911, and Something About Mary. It’s expensive though, so I doubt Betty and I will be going, which is fairly disappointing. But oh well, I suppose at least it’s not the end of the world.
Tonight my parents are having dinner with Sally’s parents and Betty’s parents, and Mattios is sleeping over here. Tomorrow after school I’m getting dropped off with my parents and we’re going out to dinner and I’ll be sleeping over. They leave on Sunday. I can’t believe it. How has a month already passed by? Time flies when you’re having fun I guess, but it also flies when you’re living. Oh, and time flies like an arrow, but fruit flies like a banana. Yeah, you gotta think about that one, right? But anyway, I digress. I can’t believe that I’ve already been here a month. In three months and six days I leave for home. Oh, my hair is in braids! I got extensions. I really hated them at first, just because it’s very different, and it was hard to adjust, but now I’m really enjoying them. It makes life so much easier, because I don’t really have to do anything to my hair. I can shower when I get home in the evenings after sports, and wake up a little bit later the next. There are definitely advantages.
Ok, well I just wrote three paragraphs of nothing, so I may as well just end here. Nothing really interesting, just an update of the blah blah blah of my life right now. Love always…
Anyhow, this Saturday is the Ethiopian New Year. I REALLY REALLY REALLY want to go to the Sheraton (it’s SUPER nice), because Wyclef Jean is coming. For those of you who don’t know who Wyclef is, download Perfect Gentleman, Gone Till November, 911, and Something About Mary. It’s expensive though, so I doubt Betty and I will be going, which is fairly disappointing. But oh well, I suppose at least it’s not the end of the world.
Tonight my parents are having dinner with Sally’s parents and Betty’s parents, and Mattios is sleeping over here. Tomorrow after school I’m getting dropped off with my parents and we’re going out to dinner and I’ll be sleeping over. They leave on Sunday. I can’t believe it. How has a month already passed by? Time flies when you’re having fun I guess, but it also flies when you’re living. Oh, and time flies like an arrow, but fruit flies like a banana. Yeah, you gotta think about that one, right? But anyway, I digress. I can’t believe that I’ve already been here a month. In three months and six days I leave for home. Oh, my hair is in braids! I got extensions. I really hated them at first, just because it’s very different, and it was hard to adjust, but now I’m really enjoying them. It makes life so much easier, because I don’t really have to do anything to my hair. I can shower when I get home in the evenings after sports, and wake up a little bit later the next. There are definitely advantages.
Ok, well I just wrote three paragraphs of nothing, so I may as well just end here. Nothing really interesting, just an update of the blah blah blah of my life right now. Love always…
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