Ode to my small town in Tigray...

Before I get on to the rest of my post I just wanted to quickly ask for your help yet again with my Peace Corps Partnership Program.  At the high school here in my town we are working to get a pump and well built for the use of not only the school so that they will have a reliable water source, but so they can maintain the grounds, and, in my opinion the most important reason, so that the Environmental club can establish their own tree nursery and other projects to battle the ongoing deforestation in our community.  I know many of you have already donated and we really appreciate your support; we are starting to get desperate though, and we need as much help as possible.  We still have around a thousand dollars to raise before we can begin the project and we could really use your donation!  Please, if you can donate, even just a little, I would appreciate it so much! 

Please donate if you can at the following link!

https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=663-028 or go to www.peacecorps.gov/donate, and search for ‘Peatross’, or the project number 663-028.



Tigray Flag



Ok, now on to the post.... I realize I have been pretty vague about my town here, so I thought I'd write a little about it to give you a better idea of the daily life here in Tigray.

A quick Description

My town is relatively small, with a population of about 8 or 9 thousand, but having one of the only schools in the area, I swear most of that population seems to be under the age of 18.  The surrounding area looks like it belongs in a 1970s spaghetti western with dusty plains and jagged cliffs surrounding the town.  The town itself is perched on a Cliffside overlooking the valley to the east and high plateaus to the west.  During the rainy season the area is surprisingly green with streams running under the bridges and grass along the once dry, sandy slopes and the rough cliff sides are dotted with green plant growth.

Each mountain top, I might add, has a rickety Orthodox church perched on top, the large elaborate metal cross just visible on the steeple.  At any given spot in town you can spot about 3 of these churches; in fact, total, I can think of 10 Orthodox churches all within walking distance of the town center.  Besides the Orthodox churches, the center of town is also home to the towering green and white mosque topped with the traditional moon and star.

The Places

Every time I think of where I live, I am forced to compare it to the small town of Duchesne I grew up in back in rural Utah.  There are innumerable differences, yet surprisingly some similarities. 

 I think of the town grocery store I used to go to for shopping, the only grocery store in town, and thinking I had limited choices; yet here in Tigray I wait for that one day a week, market day, to do my major shopping and stock up for the week.  Instead of walking up and down the aisles of neatly packed canned goods and frozen foods, I push my way through a crowded market haggling for this pile of potatoes and that kilogram of guavas.  I think of back home with fresh milk, a bakery, and even a deli right at my fingertips, and I grudgingly buy my powdered milk and bread to get me through the week. 

The Butcher is possibly one of the largest differences in my two towns; Duchesne had neatly packaged meat all cleanly and sanitarily wrapped with a date stamped on top, and here, you know when the meat is fresh by the skinned hide and cow head sitting outside the door.  In the states packages of meat cleanly describe the meat as a ‘rump roast’ ‘rib eye’ or what not, here, you walk in, point to the part of the carcass that is hanging up by his hocks, and ask for your specific cut (thank you, 4-H, for my knowledge of animal parts). 

The post office, an orderly building I remember in Utah, filled with a box for each residence, is no more than a small room here in town, with about 25 boxes.  The post master calls me when there is mail we grab a cup of tea and arrange a time when he can come to the post office and unlock it so I can get my post. 

My office building too, has a sharp contrast from any government building in my small town in Utah;  Our cement walls are battered, the paint is peeling, and there are old, handwritten signs, posters, and maps littering the walls all at least two years old.  I think of cubicles in the states, and it makes me smile when I see our small, one-room office that somehow managed to cram 13 desks in.  The two computers in the office, to be shared among all the workers, are still running on windows XP on giant ancient monitors.  Did I mention we have 2 windows, neither with glass, and one book shelf with no books but handwritten reports from more than 15 years prior?



During the holiday 'Meskel', or the 'Finding of the True Cross'



In Northern Utah, people used to say that there was a church on every corner, but they all teach the same thing; here in Tigray, that pretty much holds true as well: more churches than you can imagine, and they’re all Ethiopian Orthodox.  Though, I am still struggling to understand religion here as every time I’ve gone for a holiday or something, we never actually go inside the church and just listen to the singing and praying going on outside in the courtyard.  Everyone is very religious and very devout to the Orthodox faith, yet there is no Sunday school, no church groups, and as far as I can tell, very few actual church services… Most have never read the bible, except those who are deacons or priests, as it is usually printed in the ancient language Ge’ez, but I guarantee nearly every man, women, and child in town has on a traditionally carved wooden cross to proudly display their religion.  Here, Religion is Culture and nearly all holidays are religious and those that aren’t have adopted religious practices anyway. 

The People



After the death of PM Meles Zenawi, we had a ceremoney in town-
these are the many people traveling in from far and wide to attend.



If you were to walk down the streets of my town, you would see women dressed in tattered dresses and long white scarves all hurrying to their destination in what we'd call ‘jelly-shoes’.  They usually have their hair braided in what we volunteers have coined ‘triceratops braids’ due to the three large lumps braided back on the head, ending in a large, fanned out poof of hair at the top the neck, or ‘Tigray braids’ which is basically the same thing, without the triceratops lumps and a small braid coming down the forehead, splitting in the middle, and braided behind the ears.  Most younger girls dress in this fashion as well, minus the scarves and the hair; because of lice, most girls have a short crop or shaved head until at least 8… Usually women are carrying a baby or some massive bag of something on their back, all tied with the traditionally woven white scarves.

The men, usually sitting in coffee and tea houses, mingling on the side of the road, or waiting for the bus, dress far more diversely than the women.  You can tell the priests and older traditional men by their traditionally woven white scarves wrapped almost turban like on their heads, their long beards, and their T-shaped staff and cross in hand.  Most government workers wear a suit, or the latest faded and ripped fashion jeans and a button-up shirt, and the youth range in everything from an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog to a 1980’s thrift shop (yikes).  Then there are always some surprises,  like the occasional women in the silky Hello Kitty pajama set, undoubtedly assumed a fancy two piece outfit, or the Adidas or Reabook jacket that actually says ‘Abibas’ or ‘Rbdock’. 

Finally, two of my favorite people in town, our resident ‘rock lady’ and ‘dancer guy’:  Rock lady has lived here in town as long as I can remember, usually seen with a rock in hand and chasing people while threatening to throw.  She is really eager, however, and LOVES foreigners.  If she spots me, she usually screams, runs up to me, and insists on no fewer than 5 shoulder bumps in greeting (all with rock in hand).  In the past she has been known to chase people away from bus seats ‘belonging to the ferenji ‘(foreigner) or demand you a seat in a café, even if you weren’t planning on sitting, all with rock in hand.   Dancer guy is a new addition to our town, and just showed up for our last holiday.  Wearing not much more than a white traditionally woven scarf as a toga, he spent our last holiday dancing in front of the crowd during a serious ceremony presented by the priests.  He then proceeded to lead the parade of priests, dancing and waving a strange spastic baton-like thing as they marched somberly around the fire and cross for Meskel.

There- hopefully that gives you a thorough view of my town and a good idea of the people and places I see and interact with every day; despite the differences, I love this town and the rich culture I get to be a part of!

During the Meskel holiday, the priests lit the bonfire holding the cross- depending on the direction the cross falls, it could be a good year!