Mortifying Moments

Warning, this post discusses poop.

There was only 1 mortifying moment in my few years abroad when I have cried in front of people, in response to my humiliation. Well, until now. Now there are 2.

I have been lonely here, I'm not afraid to admit that. It is a hardship post anywhere in Yemen, but I am out in the desert in the middle of nowhere living in meager conditions and the only foreigner here. With all the issues that I face in the work, with staff, with my roommates, with the culture here, I realized that all of it would be much more bearable if I had foreign friends to hang out with from time to time. In 4 months, not having anyone close by who can actually relate to me, understand me completely has been hard.

Operation Find-A-Friend:. I looked on couchsurfing, facebook, internations, linkedin… With security so tight these days, I figured I wouldn't find them out on the streets. I asked my boss if she knew of any foreigners in Aden to make friends with - she said she knew an older woman working at an English language institute who could introduce me to a few of the foreign teachers there. Perfect! We set a date and time for me to go. I don't know exactly what my boss told this motherly woman friend of hers but…

I walk into the lounge of the institute and there are teachers everywhere. These are hip, young Yemenis, a few Somali and one American woman at the time. My boss's friend stands me in front of everyone and says,

"This is Rabecca and she is very very lonely. She needs a friend; can we make her feel welcome here?" She repeats the same speech in the next office over.

Perhaps it was a mixture of the truth said out loud, and my mortification of the whole room hearing this and giving me ooohs and awwws, I started to cry. Just a little. Oh f**k. I began thinking of the rumor mill and how by the time I returned to camp tomorrow, everyone would know what was said and done.

Nevertheless I now have a plethora of Yemeni friends, a Canadian and 2 Americans when I go to Aden. Lovely, just lovely. Life goes onJ

The first mortification was probably much worse. I was in my rural town in Ethiopia, when I visited our rural 'hospital' because I was sick. I hadn't gotten really sick before in my town and figured the right thing to do was visit a doctor and get on medication (sigh… now I have a strong stomach and charcoal pills). First, there was much excitement that I had come to visit the hospital. I was paraded around and the nurse told everyone, "This is Ribka, she has diarrhea!" Then they asked me for a poop sample, but they couldn't find a container. Finally, someone drinking a juice offered the cap to their juice bottle.

Next I was led to a latrine in the hospital field. It was the only latrine I've ever seen this disgusting - it was flooded as the hole was filled and I couldn't bear to step inside as I'd be stepping in excrement. So I did my business next door to it, with the help of the nurse again. Then I was paraded around again, in the women's wing this time, introducing me to people and offering their greetings as I held my bottle cap of poop in my hand. Again, the introduction about my illness was explained.

This violated so many patient privacy laws back in the States and was embarrassing beyond belief. Plus, I was sick. And they told me: "The lab results showed nothing." At that point, after all that ridiculous running around and the whole town having seen my poop by now, I burst into tears. That surprised them. Then, many of them began laughing, as they thought I was crying because I was scared of my illness.

"Ribka, you silly girl, don't worry! You will just be sick for some time and then get better, no problem! Ayzosh!"

This was my latrine for 2 years - very clean and tidy compared to the hospital!

There was no ayzoshing from me at this time, no more being strong, holding up. I used their phone to call the Peace Corps medical doctor in Addis and cried to him on the phone that next time I'm sick, I want permission to go to the big town for treatment. He approved and life went on. J

Moral of the story: Don't get sick and don't ask for friends. Haha, I'm kidding. It's to not let these cultural mishaps get to me and look on the brighter side: good stories to share in my future cool life when I am surrounded by my friends.

February Wrap Up

Lobster! (and khat in his mouth, yum)

Fish market 

Visited the Aden Fish Market for the first time. Saw a shark gutted, ginormous fish and a beautiful lobster.

Started a regular running routine. I go at night in an enclosed field, which is part of our compound. It’s a bit creepy but I play my music and take off in circles and it feels great. Twice a week for now. UPDATE: The binat’s interest is perked and I’ve had a few days in a row of 3 girls running with me.

Sweeet!

Mosque of one of the 8 villages surrounding the camp (irrelevant photos I know)

Realized that I am addicted to dates. But is that a bad thing? Why go on dates when you can be sitting home in your pjs eating them? And I found date dhibs, which is like honey made from dates. Very amazing and probably super good for you.

On the road to Aden

There is a family of crickets living in my room. I originally thought I was hearing rather loud crickets outside every evening, until I began finding one after another coming from my closet. I really need to get them out of my room. Or maybe I need to be getting out of my room more.

UPDATE:  Every evening, one or 2 baby crickets come out and I scoop them up and take them outside. The noise is less now.

I hold back the women as one casts her ballot

IHeld elections for the Oromo people in the camp. Oromos are from Ethiopia and a strong, very proud people. Of course I heart them as they are from the motherland. I spent the whole morning holding back women in their lines, telling them to ayzosh, berchee, abshir jabadu, tarteeb, any mix of Amharic, Oromo and Somali I could think of to get them to wait patiently for their turn to vote.

Had lunch cooked by a man for me – first time here and so surprising since men are so uninvolved in domestic life. It was one of my Somali staff and he is a real gem. I played with his nieces and ate with them and talked to his sister-in-law while she henna’ed her feet… it was a lovely afternoon.

Village outside of Sana'a

Went to Sana'a for a long weekend- the first time since the few days I spent there when I initially arrived. Can't say it was refreshing necessarily, but there was some good times and a relaxing day at the spa.

On my way to the spa 2 hours northeast of Sana'a

Had a meltdown in weekend #3… hmmm… it's too complex to explain and I end up deleting everything I write about it. Perhaps when I find a clearer way to express myself, I'll write a post on it. Because the meltdown is definitely not overL

Instability in the south has affected my work, my movement, security and... The south was colonized by the British, and then groomed by the Soviets; 2 large reasons ahead of many other tribal/political issues which lend to why the south want to separate from the north. The complex issues feeding their separatist spirit have blossomed in the last couple years of unrest, and now they are declaring a ‘civil disobedience’ campaign. This has equaled small arms fire, burning tires, large protesting groups, a handful dead and dozens injured in the last 2 weeks of the month. It's peaceful now but this next month but March will be full of squirmishes like this as the National Dialogue is on the 18^th. Inshallah people tire of the violence and find peaceful ways to solve this problem or this already fragile state could take a turn for the worse. This would also mean my evacuation, booo…

Separatist protests found their way to the camp but they were very small, short and completely peaceful

Teaching the schoolgirls to laugh in photos

By month’s end, after the tumultuous middle, I am somehow feeling upbeat, refreshed, relaxed, happy. As the binat have told me, “It takes a big heart to be here. If your heart is small, you cannot take it.”