From sea to shining sea!

Well, here I am. AMERICA. Boy, do I love America. I've been here since 18November and it has been absolute bliss. Before I got here, I was exercising a lot- running about six miles a day in what I like to refer to as "my other life". Because really, I DO have two entirely separate lives. I have the American life and the Ethiopian life.... and they COULD NOT POSSIBLY be any different! On another note, it is sooooo weird to sit here and blog in America. I mean, some of you might read this and then actually see me! That will be so embarrassing for me! There is some kind of safety in writing something from a million miles away.

So what have I done since I got here? Two things worth mentioning: 1. Eat, 2. Shop, in that order. Sometimes both at the same time. Three cheers for multitasking!! Why yes, I will eat a cookie and shop for shoes! Why YES, it is convenient that Ann Taylor Loft is directly across from a Dippin Dots machine! WHY YES, I'll take a Number 3 meal hold-the-mayo, please, because I'm wearing stretchy jeans!! And yes..... my jeans are a size larger than the ones I wear in my Other Life (now referred to as the Long Long Ago).

I have eaten my way through Central and North Alabama, plus some of Tennessee. I had a breakfast at Burger King that was more than the ENTIRE amount of food I eat in Ethiopia in a single day. I ate that whole value meal and even managed not to vom egg substitute all over the backseat of my parents Trailblazer. Then like, two hours later, it was time to meet up with Matt & Deidre (brother and sister in law) for lunch at a cute diner in Nashville. I was like, yes please, I'll have the crabcakes with all the fixin's and you may as well bring me a freaking pitcher of sweet tea. Even later in the same day, I ate at a small fortune of food for my mom's birthday dinner at PF Changs and had to be rolled out to the curb in a custom-made wheelchair (okay that part's not true, but it's a long running family joke).

In short (or wide?), I'm steadily gaining weight in the middle area. And not in a good way. Since I come here and eat so much so fast, all the extra pounds sit right on my belly. Verrrrrrry sexy! (I mean, it's only four pounds but that's a lot in three weeks to a small body!) It's major fun of course, but so sickening at the same time. It's just that people want to see me 'cause I'm all cool and stuff and going to eat food with them is a great way to kill two birds with one stone. Especially if that bird is fried chicken.

It is becoming hard for me to transition between Ethiopia and America. Sometimes, people are talking and it's like I'm listening to another language because I'm so clueless on certain subjects. When I realized this new development, I was just kinda like, Oh, now I'm that girl-- the one who's losing touch with reality! But people are mostly patient and explain things to me.

Also, let's discuss the difference in living environments... Three days before I got here, I was having an (excuse me) sh*tfit at our house because the BRILLIANT Ethiopian water people are switching our 'hood over from one water line to another. One might think it would be a great idea to, I dunno.... WARN people that this shift would soon be taking place. You know, so those people don't go to work one day and then run six miles expecting to SHOWER when they go home. Or, one might plan ahead to hook people up to the new pipes before cutting off the only current water source to their house.

One might think. But one would be sooooooooo so wrong.

So one day, G is driving me home from school and Ato Mwala calls him. He says that we have no water left in either of our water tanks and he told Brendan about this yesterday and nothing has happened, so someone needs to be doing something about this problemo. And G's turns to me and says, What do you do? And I'm like, well gah I have no idea?

So I call Brendan, because ultimately, he will be the one to suffer most if his beloved and darling wife is without water.

And Brendan answers the phone by saying, "CAN'T TALK NOW GOTTA GO CALL YOU BACK BYE."

And I resist the urge to throw my head into the car window. And then I think, well you can't possibly ignore a text message, so I text this to Brendan: "Ato M says we are completely out of water and the tanker hasn't shown up yet. You need to have Glen send them to the house immediately!"

And then Ato Mwala calls G again and relays the fab news about the new water "system" in our neighborhood. Well, Brendan hasn't called me back yet, so I send him another text: "Ato M says they are switching us to new water pipes and we will have no city water til next week, which means never, so you have to get Glen to send the tanker to the house or I will sleep with my armpit on your face."

By now, it's about 5:30 pm and I have decided to go to the Embassy (and then later tell Brendan that we're going to go out to dinner at the Thai Restaurant). Showing up is my new way of deciding whether we're going out to dinner... It's like, Well, hey, I'm here. And nobody's at the house cooking, so looks like we're going out, huh? It works 85% of the time. There have been a couple of times where Brendan says we absolutely cannot go out to dinner AGAIN and that we are going home to eat whatever we have. And we usually end up eating peanut butter and a can of beans. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah, I go to the Embassy and in the back of my head, I'm kinda worried about the showering-issue.

But I don't dare call him again! The boy is busy between 5-6 and he has finally trained me not to call him during this volatile hour of the day. (Later, he takes a half-day off work the day I am leaving to come to USA and his cellphone rings 30 times--no exaggeration-- and I make a mental note maybe to limit my calls to him to around 4 per day).

So we get to Thai Restaurant and I'm not worried about the water. You can't get worried about these things, you know? Because if I did, I would probably be a horrifically angry person! Life happens! You just have to be very ambivalent about it and appear to not care about bathing or baking. And snuggling with cute doggies helps relieve some of the my rage. I mean, honestly, you cannot* look at a fuzzy furbaby and be mad. *Unless that furbaby's personal liquids are anywhere in the house.

While we're at Thai Restaurant, Brendan's phone rings. It's Su. She is calling to ask where we are, and Bren tells her we're already at dinner. And she's like, well the drivers can't remember how to get to your house so they were going to follow you home and fill your tanks up with water.

This is the part of the convo when Bren looks up at me quickly and clears his throat. And I just know... we're not going to get water today. So I order another beer and breathe deeply. He says the tanker will come tomorrow and it won't be a big deal. And I believe him because this is usually what happens. It's not like they (whoever they are) don't want us to have water. They'll do their job and bring it to us and then I'll bathe and hakuna matata

We stop and buy bottled water so we can wash our faces, hands, and teeth. I pour the water for him and he pours it for me and then we hop into bed and thank our God for the blessing we do have.

Now, here's the thing about Leah Beth Emerson Barry. I am all for thanking God and I try not to ask Him for anything specific because I figure if he wants me to have something, he'd just give it to me and not make me grovel for it. The God I believe in just wants what's best for us all, whether or not we realize something is for the best, this is my main train of thought when it comes to prayer. I give thanks, and try to never beg for things to go my way.

I am not a very needy person, until it comes to amenities. When they are gone, I am very likely to turn into a full-blown psycho. I need to bathe. I need to wash my hands. I need to flush the toilet a zillion times a day and I NEED TO WASH MY HAIR.

The next day, I am awake at like 6am and I'm waiting on that tanker truck to come. At 8:30, the truck still hasn't come so I nonchalantly call my husband and tell him about it. He's like, Oh? So I assume they will arrive any minute or, by GOD, I will go up to the Embassy MYSELF and bring the water home!!!!

I walk into the kitchen to at least make myself some biscuits and gravy, that will cheer me up! And there's a guy walking around my compound. He's the fix-it guy who works for my landlady and he's here to check our windows. I ignore him completely and decide to walk away, because if I do that, maybe he'll just go away? This doesn't work, of course. I have my hair in two greasy pigtails and green zit cream on my cheek, for the love of GOD, I don't want ANY VISITORS. Ato Mwala is now in the kitchen trying to get the dogs into their room because this fix-it man is scared of them, and I honestly think I might just lay down on the floor and die. So this guy is in my kitchen, stinking it all up, and I'm not even moving around to give him room. I just stand there making biscuits anyway.

Then, I know I am truly hateful for this, but I let the dogs out. Why? Because it's my freaking day off and I WANT them out because IT'S MY house. The guy obviously decides I have raging case of PMS and leaves, saying he will come back to fix the windows later (does anybody even know what was wrong with them in the first place?! Yeah, me neither.)

I take my food into the living room and decide to watch Gossip Girl DVDs for the millionth time (I love them!!). The power goes off. I'm beginning to think those DVDs are cursed or something. I go outside to turn on the generator, but I can't figure it out. I try to find Ato Mwala, and he is nowhere to be found. I grab my book and take it to the living room as a poor substitute for Gossip Girl. I stab biscuits and gravy with a vengeance.

It is now 10:01 AM and the water tanker has not showed up. I call Brendan to tell him this nondevelopment. He is very annoyed to hear this news and says he will take care of it.

The water tanker arrives at 11:16 AM and it literally takes everything in me not to rush to the shower when the guys leave our driveway... But it would be no good, because the water needs time to trickle down into the pipes and build pressure and whatever and whatnot. So I managed to hold myself off until about 5pm. I go upstairs and I'm so EXCITED to bathe!!

I turn on the water...... and nothing happens. Dudes, nothing happens. The pipes click at me and pop and sound angry, so I tell them, You better freaking gimme some running water, YOU JUST BETTER. And I leave the faucet open so the water can come out, and nothing happens.

Nothing!

I run to Brendan's bathroom. Nothing!

I run downstairs. Nothing!

I run to the kitchen. NOTHING! FREAKING NOTHING!

Then, the water comes trickling out. And I do not lie or exaggerate in any way when I tell you I regularly pee with more force than that of this water. Bonus: it's freezing cold.

Tears come to my eyes and I stand there staring at my lame shower. I have no choice but to get in there and try to make do with this little baby steam of icy water dropping out of it.

I call Brendan, we have this conversation:

Me: So... What're you doing?
Bren: Working. What's up?
Me: Oh.... Nothing really.
Bren: Did the water truck come?
Me: Yes. And, well, I... Well, see.... (SOB) I can't get the water to get hot! What do I do to make it warm?! It's just freezing and I can't make it w-w-w-arm and it's barely even coming out at all and I just want to sh-sh-shower so bad and it's just not f-f-f-f-f-faiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiir SOBBBBBBB.
Bren: Did you flip that switch?
Me: Yeah, I did! An-n-n-nd nothing happened!!
Bren: Aw baby, I just don't know.
Me: I H-H-H-HATE IT HERE SOMETIIIIIIIIIIMES!!!!

I have to suck it up and make this work. I know I can't wash my hair, because God knows how long I would in there! So I'm standing there in my tub with no shower curtain in my ghetto freaking bathroom letting water drip on my arm, my leg, my foot, my back, one body part at a time. I am feeling pitifully sorry for myself and I start crying and screaming at the a-hole who turned my water pipes off.

I would like to tell you this story has a gloriously happy ending, but we didn't get running water until the next evening. Bren was a doll and took me to the Sheraton pool to hang out (where I, in all my bikini glory, ordered a ginormous banana split, placed it on my stomach, and ate every bite of it in pure gluttony and we *also* saw a Dutch couple nearly make a baby in front of everyone in attendance at the pool). And when we got home, I ran upstairs hoping the water would be hot and scrubbed myself to death.

Honestly. I just cannot handle being all dirty in Africa for days at a time. That is just not for me. I can deal with my neighbors regularly slaughtering goats or whatever, but if I'm not showering, someone is getting an earful.

When I left the Long Long Ago, we still did not have city water piped in. The tanker truck had to come everyday (and for what, five days?) and it felt like yeeeeeeeeears.

In a strange and ironic twist of fate, on my plane from Amsterdam to Atlanta, I sat beside a darling woman who had just finished a month-long meditation retreat in India. I have never been to India myself, but Daddy has. I guess I was 18 at the time... and when he came home from that trip and showed me the pictures, I remember actually crying over the poverty and being so grateful for my life. Anyway, I sat beside this lady and thought, God, thank you for letting me suffer in Ethiopia with bottled water. If that's the worst thing that happens to me, then thanks.

What's funny is that she mentioned how she wished she'd bought a bottle of water in the airport (I asked the guard how I could bring bottled water in, you have to buy it in the duty-free store and have them tape the bag shut and then you can bring it on board)...... And I had just bought three bottles for myself. So I gave her one of mine. She offered to pay me for it, but I said sitting beside her and getting some of her good meditation karma would be enough payment for me.

Anyway, here I am..... in the land of the Free and the home of the Brave!! The complete opposite of Ethiopia! I'm free to go and do as I please. I never have to wonder if we will have running water. I know we will have electricity. I can drive my own car anywhere and rap badly. I can gorge myself on any food I want! I need no gate to my house, I see few beggars. I have no job here. I spend all of my time with my family and friends, or relaxing. Everything I want is at my fingertips, and yet I find myself missing Africa just a bit. I can't explain why, I really can't even put my finger on it. I just know there's something in Ethiopia that somehow makes me a better version of myself, Leah 2.0, if you will! Why do I miss that place... where I can't even bathe when I want or live a full day with electricity? I simply do not know.

And now, I'll have a rare preachy moment:

If there is anything, reader, anything that you ever get from reading my blog it is this: WE are the lucky ones. Other people in the world may dislike America or Americans, but they do envy our some of our ways. We are so lucky to live the lives we lead. We are lucky to be living in the United States of America. We are lucky to be plagued with problems like bills, because it means we went out and bought things we wanted or needed to survive. We are lucky to be five pounds overweight, because it means we enjoyed too many good meals instead of starving or scavenging for food. We are lucky to wait an extra fifteen minutes to get our hair highlighted, simply because that color is "better" for us. And most of all, we are lucky that we have a holiday custom of loving each other so much that we go out and buy gifts for each other just for the joy of it. Like my mom told me last week, if you have a problem that can be solved with money, it's not really a problem!!

I will never forget this.

I hope you never forget it, either.

Merry Christmas!

Amanda Corwith, me, Deidre Emerson on Alabama/Auburn day!

I am in America

I have gained four pounds and seven new pairs of shoes. God bless America!

Missing American food... And new shoes

One day, I was laying out in my backyard and I got bored. I took my fingernail and scratched these delicious American foods (that I am practically starving for) into the chair. I called Brendan and told him what I'd done and he said, "That's gross! You could probably clean that nasty film off with some bleach and a sponge." And I said, "Meh.. No."

In case you're wondering, the list reads:
BBQ, salad, shrimp, cheese dip, pita, margarita, bacon, meatloaf, lasagna, blueberries
NEW SHOES

November already!?

Dear readers, are you there? It's me, Leah.

Finally, the blog website is accessible from school again. Why does it come and go? I do not know. I was just thinking this very morning about how I wish I could blog all of my fun stories to you!

This past Sunday (otherwise known as yesterday) Bren and I are eating breakfast together, but very separately. He is sharpening his knives with this cool kit-thing he bought off the internet. I am shoveling food into my face as quickly as possible while he scrapes these knives on these metal rods. We have this conversation:

Leah: You know, biscuits and gravy is one of my top ten favorite foods.
Bren: Really? (scrape, scrape)
Leah: YES. And also grilled shrimp ceasar salads. And lobster. And pie!
Bren: Hm. (scrape, scrape)
Leah: (takes a huge bite of B&G) I could really eat a salad right now. That's the first thing I eat when I get home and before I come back here, you know?
Bren: Yeah?
Leah: Dude? Why can't you just relax and not do anything? Just like Daddy, you know? Whenever he has time off, he's got to be doing something. Why can't you people just enjoy some free time?
Bren: Free time is a waste of time.
Leah: (thinks hard) ... But... I love wasting time. Let's go to the pool today.
Bren laughs hysterically.

This is when the light bulb goes off in my head. I realized that I have a very specialized talent called The Ability To Do Nothing and, apparently, not everyone in the world has this talent. I see this as a blessing for me!

Anyway, where am I going with this? Today I'm in the Corolla on my way to school and I'm just a careless blob taking up space in the universe. And I wish I could explain to you what it really is like to be in this state. I'll try: My mind is pretty blank, I'm not seeing anything, the annoying British woman on the radio is talking about the free trip to Mombasa but it's kind of faded into the background. I'm looking out the window and I'm enjoying my little quiet time.

And then I see this scary guy. He's wearing black pants, black shoes and a black shiny pleather jacket. The collar on his jacket is flipped up, covering the lower half of his face. He's crouched down on a stoop in front of a weird music store. His knees up in his arms, all facing to the side, but his head is turned towards the street. And he's staring at me! He's got a really mean look in his eyes and I immediately realize that he's gonna be one of the Crazy Ones who randomly pick someone out of a crowd, rush their car and start screaming at them. (Yeah, this happens. Usually people who've been abusing illegal substances and come to the realization that other people in the world are living better than they are.) I'm thinking, Aw man, I don't want to do this today. And I put my sunglasses on, find something to fiddle with, and turn back to the window expecting to see him there yelling at me.

But, in a creepier twist of fate, he continues to sit on his step and stare at me. Which, in a way, is actually kinda worse. And then all of a sudden, this voice fills the air and I can hear it over my own radio in the car! It's a reeeeeally deep manly voice which I can only describe as devilish and it's calmly saying something in Arabic. The noise of it is surrounding EVERYTHING. But you know sometimes you hear a foreign language and the words sound kinda familiar? Like, someone says a word in French that sounds like olive and you're like, Olives? But you totally know they're speaking French and not talking about olives, it's just that you want to understand and your brain immediately tries to turn the French into English. Well, what this guy is saying Arabic sounds an awful lot like what someone would say in English that could translate to: "Hey! Little girl in the Corolla! Yeah, YOU! I'm gonna get you!!!!!!!!!!"

I consider freaking out because I don't understand where the voice is coming from and it's SO LOUD. I look back to the creepy guy and he's still there, staring at me, completely unaffected by this voice. And then the voice goes away and strange music fills the air and I think, Oh wait, maybe this is coming from that little music store? Then I notice a huge speaker in front of the door to that music store, and I sort of giggle a sigh of relief and realize that the voice is probably a deejay announcing a song.

But for a second there, I totally thought the Devil was coming for me and that I was about to witness some kind of Jesus v. Devil event in Ethiopia.

Other than that, my ride to school was completely typical and I'm happy to report that the scary guy on the step never did come yell at me.

You wanna know something fun? I had a friend here last week. A real, live friend from college came to Addis Ababa for an Operation Smile mission in Jimma. I was so excited, you guys!! So I hung out with her and her group and I took them shopping for souvenirs on Churchill Road. I took them to lunch at my favorite Indian restaurant, where the rest of their group met us for a nice meal. They kept asking me questions about Ethiopia, but I couldn't tell the truth because there were two local people with them. So I tried to avoid their questions by doing the classic non-answer, change the subject routine. A doctor from her group demanded to go up on this mountain to visit a church made completely out of rock. I didn't really want to go, but I did anyway.

You see, these trips out of the city on mountains and stuff are not REALLY the right kind of trip to take in a Corolla. Since I refuse to go in a taxi or to get stuck anywhere without my car and my English-ish speaking driver and my stuff.... I got G to drive, so Brette and a cool anesthesiologist named Terry rode with me. As I suspected, the cement road ended and turned into your typical rocky dirt road filled with people yelling "FERENJI!!!" ("FOREIGNER!!") at the car.

At several points on our voyage, the road was so bad that we all had to get out of the car so G could maneuver over the mini-boulders without scraping the car up. That was funny because we got to see all the interesting things happening in the little village areas. For example, a new groom dressed in white, adorned with flowers, surrounded by his chanting and dancing bridal party (but where was the bride?!) Children running towards us and screaming to get our attention until they were out of breath.

I don't know if you've ever been in a situation when literally every eye is on you, when every person is considering your presence, when small children are running towards you down hillsides, when people slowly move closer to you and say "Money? Hello? Money? Hello?", when you didn't really want to caravan up that darn mountain the first place and now you're the center of attention and you're trying to avoid eye contact with people so they don't mob you.

G has to stop and ask for directions from a few guys herding cows (and holding rifles). Brette looks nervous, Terry looks excited, G looks bored, and I am fervently hoping I don't have to pee anytime soon. We weave around the countryside, get out a few more times so G can get the car over various road blocks, and finally arrive to an open area where we have to leave the car and HIKE the rest of the way up the mountain to the church.

I'm wearing Birkenstocks and Brette is wearing cowboy boots. (She later regretted this.)

It turns out that one of the cow-herding, rifle-holding guys allows himself to be our unofficial tour guide to the church. Basically, he is following us around. I'm not entirely comfortable with this situation, but I'm trying to go with the flow. I guess he could be helpful if we get ourselves lost. Either that or he'll take us to the top of this mountain and shoot us (ha ha?). We hike for about half an hour straight UP through the forest. My legs (and lungs!) are on fire. I'm sweating and swearing and wondering how the people who actually attend this church do this every week. Young children start are drawn from wherever they were in the forest and start to follow us. They never really walk with us, per se, but they hike close enough to us that they can see us and try to join the adventure.

It's pretty freaky when people appear out of the forest and hide behind trees to stare at you. You know that feeling you get when you know you're being watched? Yeah. It's uncomfortable to KNOW there are people out there that can see you, but you don't know where they are.... Then you look up and BAM! Little faces peeking out at you from behind Eucalyptus trees!

The local people who were at lunch with us are easily zooming up the mountain and, though I'm a pretty small person, I'm starting to feel fat and lazy. And also? The vegetable curry I had for lunch is threatening to come back up. (A free tip for you: Do not EVER eat Indian food and then go hiking. Bad bad bad!!)

We finally reach the top of this mountain and take turns taking pictures of each other in front of the sign that says "This is the entrance to the Rock Hewn Church (Washa Michael) ------->" and then it's repeated in Amharic. The church turned out to be pretty cool and kinda strange. I didn't really understand which part was the actual church where people worship. It just looked like a bunch of caves to me. But I did learn that the Italians bombed this church about 60 years ago, so that's why it doesn't have a roof. I also saw some goat bones. Yay.

Here's a picture of me crawling through the window of the church:



We hung out here for awhile, then hiked over to an open area with a massive pile of rocks on it. If you stand on the rocks, you get an incredible view of the city. From here, I noticed that the city is kind of split in half. The city on my left is small buildings and the city on my right is tall buildings. And I announced that the city looks a lot nicer from up there. Then the guide (whom I trust now because he didn't try to kill us, though I'm kinda irritated because I've been trying to take pictures of his rifle on the sneak-sneak and he keeps eluding me...) leads us back down the mountain to our cars so we can all be on our merry way.

When we reach the bottom of the mountain, of course our he asks for money for his services. Like we asked him to follow us around, you know? But that's how it goes, so someone gave him 50 birr, and told him we would only pay him if he allowed us to take a picture of him holding his rifle. This delighted me! And a simple picture of the guy holding his rifle turned into a group photography session. Please see my contribution below:



I know my parents especially enjoyed that picture! I think it might be a framer. All in all, the mountain escapade was pretty fun and I took some awesome pictures up there.

In other news, I'm coming home in 16 days! I am so excited!!!! I have less than three weeks in Addis, then I won't be back til next year. It feels good to say that. Especially because Bren gets to come home this time!!!! Did I mention that I'm SOOOOO EXCIIIIIITED???????

Enough blogging for the day. I have more stories to share, so I will be back tomorrow to blog again..... if the internet lets me!

Experiencing Meskel- A video tribute

Behold, my random pictures

Welcome to hail. (Get it!?)

Making tortillas by hand. I don't speak Spanish, but I know these tasted no bueno.

How do we feel about body odor? You decide.

Me and Bruk on his first day of 9th (?) grade

gap.com & LB, bff forever

I'm super surprised that I'm able to sit here and blog right now. The website has been inaccessible from school, so I haven't been able to connect to you guys in awhile. I know... I promised to blog every two weeks. Can we just skip the part where I apologize profusely for being such a deadbeat blogger?

Let's talk about recent events, shall we? Ethiopia has celebrated two big fun holidays in the past month. 1. Eid ul-Fitr and 2. Meskel.

Let's disucss.

Eid ul-Fitr is the end of Ramadan, when the Muslims see the full moon or whatever and fasting can end so the feasting can begin. I was particularly bummed that Eid ul-Fitr was on Sunday, because if it had been on Monday, we would have been out of school. At the same time, I was not interested in staying up to see if there was a full moon at midnight (ever), so I hoped for the best that it happened Sunday and school wouldn't be closed Monday when I showed up. How else am I supposed to know it's a holiday? Ask someone? Like...... who?

**Public service announcement: Do not read the following paragraph while eating**

This holiday was interesting to me, because everyone was fattening up street chickens and herds of goats for what I like to call "Slaughterfest 2K2". You know it's only 2002 in Ethiopia, right? I'm sorry if your head just exploded with this wealth of information, but I need to share the love. Anyway, there's nothin like cruising down the road and seeing fifty goat carcasses. I especially adore the discarded guts my fabulous neighbors leave in the road. You really haven't lived until you've seen dogs eating/fighting over goat brains on the corner. I have to admit my favorite part of this holiday was awakening in the dead middle of the night to the sound of an animal being slaughtered at the house next door. If that doesn't make you clutch your husband, I don't know what will.

This past weekend was Meskel. Wanna know how you celebrate Meskel? Well, it involves everyone wearing these white gauzy outfits, okay? And then a huge group of Ethiopian people (wearing white) start dancing and chanting around this pyramid of wood. On top of the pyramid of wood is a huge cross. When the jig's over, they light the pyramid on fire and watch the cross burn and everyone starts going LALALALALALALALLALALALA.

Let's recap: People wearing white. Burning crosses and chanting.

I totally filmed the whole thing.

My favorite part of Meskel was accidentally catching a high school girl running towards me try to jump over something, but tripping instead. Heh heh heh! I tried to pretend I didn't notice, but I just couldn't very well help myself. But in all honesty, I was a little bit wide-eyed after seeing the group (I almost typed "clan" ooooooooooooooops) set the cross on fire. I kind of kept looking around to other people to see their reactions, but nobody else was spooked. For all the crap I get from people about being from the South, you'd think Africans wouldn't make a freakin holiday out of burning crosses.

I'm just sayin.

I did try to take some meaning from the program the third graders put on about Meskel, but I just couldn't follow it. I got some parts about the rain and lightning and something about thunder and digging for "the true cross", but I got so lost because, in the middle of the program, it actually DID start raining. Of course, Meskel is also a way to celebrate the end of the rainy season, so I had to giggle uncontrollably at the irony! Instead of finishing the little concert, we were all banished back to our classrooms until they set up tents for us to stand under to watch the cross burn (don't wanna miss out on that!). I ended up reading Bud, Not Buddy to our kids. Guess what a main theme of that book is? Racism. Is anyone else seeing a pattern?

Friday at school is always fun, especially when there's something to celebrate (even if it's something creepy like Meskel). So it's no surprise when I run to the car, excited to go home and put on my snuggly pants and ring in the weekend. That is, I was excited until I got to the car and it smelled like my driver's B.O.!!!! Sick! I rolled down the window and basically hung my head out like a dog. Then I sent Brendan the following text message: "We need to stage an intervention on G's body odor before one of us dies." No response. So I send this text: "And by 'one of us' I meant 'me' because I'm riding in a dumpster on wheels."

Now, I'm not sure how to politely tell G that he smells like a rotten onion, so I ignore it and put Vick's Vapor Rub on my nose and try to trick myself (thanks to my mother in law, Molly, for that idea!). It might help if the man changed clothes, but honestly, I don't know how to go about fixing the Stinky Man Problem. I stopped riding shotgun, now I cower in the back with my face at the window. And when he asks if I want him to roll up the windows to turn on the A/C, I practically have to hold myself back from screaming "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, NO!" Being boxed up in the car with his funk is more than I am willing to endure for my beloved air conditioner. (By the way, the whole country smells bad, so the fact that I'm opening the window to face the stench of the world should let you know how bad G smells.)

But basically, I couldn't wait to get home to tell Brendan all about the Meskel thing. I made him sit and watch the videos and look at the pictures and he was like, "Really? This really happened?" And then we giggled and ate pasta. (Okay, I didn't eat the pasta because I didn't think it smelled very good. I was right. Brendan declared it to be so disgusting that he didn't even want to give it to Mwala. Brendan has NEVER said anything I've ever made was nasty, so I took his word for it and threw it away. Seriously, who screws up PASTA?!!)

Another funny thing happened when I was making pasta. At the last minute, I realized that it wasn't looking quite right, so I decided to make a cake to neutralize the grossness of the main dish. I also decide to make a strawberry sauce to go on top of it. I'm in the process of using that whirring machine (what's it called? the one with the two things?) and of course, the power goes out. Why does this happen to me? Every freaking time I try to bake a cake, the electricity cuts out. So I got really mad and stomped out of the kitchen. The power came back on about half an hour later (just long enough for me to get good and mad and then get over it), so I let the oven preheat and baked the cake. I'm just saying, that was the best cake EVER!!! I'm not sure if letting the batter sit out for like an hour is what made it so good? But dude, I was thankful that the pasta was The Nast because I got to waste all of my calories on sweet, delicious cake (aka- the sustenance of life).

Did I tell you guys that me an B watched the "X-Men" series a few weeks ago? It made me kind of obsessed with superhero people. I'm really wishing I could be one of them. I decided that my future children will be named after X-Men characters, including but not limited to, Phoenix, Wolverine & Mystique. But not Cyclops because he's awful.

I filled my Mom in on this idea and she thought it was horrible. She's like, "No. Definitely no, Leah." I told her to give it time, that the names will eventually grow on her. She did not agree. But it's okay, Mom, we have YEARS AND YEARS until this whole thing comes into fruition. Speaking of children, I'm at work right now and I'm completely confused by the drama of fourth grade life. These days, the kids are forming their own fake governments and appointing each other offices and creating rules and stuff. Then they pretend someone got kidnapped and they trade fake money to get the person back to their "home" country. I'm befuddled by the whole thing. Also, they made these paper cell phones and call each other all the time. So they sit here holding paper to their heads, talking right next to each other. When I (so stupidly) asked why they can't have a conversation without holding paper to their heads, they responded "Because we can't talk without a phone, Ms. Leah." Oh. Okay then. What do I know?

I've been working out lately and pretty diligently. I've fallen in love with the rowing machine (in the free gym at school) and hit it up everyday. It brings the pain, but it's also a lazy-man's workout since it doesn't hurt my knees, joints, and it involves no bouncing or running. You sit, pull, push over and over. It's amazing!

Not sure if I told you this, but my family knows because they saw me right after it happened. But I got WICKED BAD food poisoning from some Kenyan pork ribs (Yes. This does sound like an extremely bad idea. What do they say about hindsight?) right before I left here this past Summer for my USA vacation. I'll spare you the dirtiest details, but I'll put it out there that I blacked out on the toilet, so in addition to having severe stomach issues, I also had a bruised head and knee. I tell you this because about a month ago, I learned that there has been an outbreak of Cholera in Ethiopia. I'm not sure if it's centered in Addis or out in the bush, I just know that I don't want it because Cholera is apparently like the Diarrhea Virus times a million + death. I can't imagine anything worse than food poisoning, so I've been boiling the heck out of our water and bleaching the veggies for extra long. Imagine!! Pooping yourself to death!!

Other than these weird holidays and debilitating body odor, life has been pretty sweet. The shop I go to at the Hilton got in a huge shipment of Babybel cheeses (from where?!) and I bought as many as I could. I am loving some cheese and crackers. I had a bad day at work last week and quit my job (No, I've never been called impulsive.) and today actually went in and un-quit my job. So, it looks like I'll be employed until June. Yayyyy. I do this because I want to go on more awesome vacations. Other than that, I am counting down the days until I am home again. But for now, I gotta go because my darling Momma is on gchat and I want to talk to her!! Toodles!