what’s this thing run? linux?

i finally kicked andenet’s sorry no-workin’ ass to the curb after he attempted to get peace corps to pay an exorbitant sum of money for a venue in which to hold my community installation meeting.

andenet would of course be getting a percentage.

andenet doesn’t work here anymore.

i’ve got a new counterpart, and with him, a new office. both can be seen working on a regular basis, rather than just holding the chairs down until payday.

another nice feature is that, while i still have to dodge abebe at every turn when i leave the house, i don’t have to see him at work anymore (not that he went to work very often… but the threat was ever present).

i also feel comfortable with the people at my new office to where i can bring my computer to work without worrying that it will get “borrowed”, or that i’ll have people over my shoulder all day asking if they can use it to check their facebook pages in case any potential beautiful american greencard wives updated their status, lately.

on that note, it seems that my computer has had a miraculous recovery. perhaps because it sensed that i would not be going to addis (and thus the apple store) for IST, or maybe as a tribute to the late steve jobs, or maybe because it knows that at my new office the alternative looks like this:

* * * *

stay tuned for our next episode:

je ne parle pas français. or, apparently i don’t want to talk about it.

a barber’s dozen pre-emptive self-deprecating jokes about my new haircut.

whilst in gore, chelsea marveled at my clean shave, and asked what i planned on doing with all my shaggy hair.

i guess i’ll cut it sometime.

can i cut it?!

have you ever cut hair before?

no. never.

then you should know that that is the only reason i am going to let you do this.

the next morning we looked over my new coif and agreed…

meh, good enough.

what’s it look like?

well, i could post a picture, but i’d rather post a few comic insults that i might be in for with this new do. perhaps it will inspire some more imaginative heckling than the “wayzaro” and “jizoos crast” of my last style (get your google search bar ready):

i look like the bad boy from a disney channel movie of the week.

i look like the opening act at a pavement concert.

i look like adolf hipster.

i look like i’m a couple of bowling shirts away from replacing charlie sheen on two and a half men.

i look like justin beiber finally hit puberty.

i look like a keanu reeves montage.

i look like i camped out all night for twilight tickets.

i look like i was cruising the PCH with the top down… in reverse.

i look like an extra from a blink 182 video.

i look like i couldn’t decide between the starsky or the hutch.

i look like donald trump’s rebellious teen years.

i look like joyce dewitt (obscuuuuuure!)

i look like i put my mullet on backwards.

nevertheless, the haircut stays.

* * * *

stay tuned for our next episode:

what’s new? pussycat.

everything’s cyclical… including cynical.

act three draws to a close, leaving our hero feeling like maybe this is just going to be what life as he knows it… is going to be.

maybe.

act four: in which the whole “when i say we” shtick is retired, masha gets itself a little pussy, a couple of 69ers find themselves in a very uncomfortable position, and our hero finally finds his heroin.

…what?

heroine! i meant heroine. our hero finally finds his heroine.

yikes… that was awkward.

isn’t it always the way?

you think of the perfect joke five minutes too late?

yeah, so after long deliberation on what to call the 69 volunteers of peace corps ethiopia G5, deanna’s giving me all the latest gossip about who’s doing who these days, and i was so blown away by how much fooling around our group is doing that it dawned on me…

we gotta be the 69ers.

oh, and uh, katie questions ETed.

well, hell.

the 68ers just doesn’t have that same zing.

but hey, at least the wheels of the peace corps death pool (figure of speech) are turning.

a week later, number two fell…

and it was deanna’s best friend.

then we lost numbers 3 through 8 all at once…

and they were people that i really didn’t want to see go home.

when i heard how five volunteers ended up on the same plane back to the states, well…

i sort of just stared into infinite space for a minute and said…

…damn.

flashback to atlanta, GA, may 23, 2011

it was just a few days ago someone pointed out that i talk a lot of shit about the peace corps on this blog.

so i did something about it.

peace corps made me remove a tooth, boohoo.

peace corps made me change my signature, boohoo.

peace corps screwed up my medical clearance, boohoo.

i pulled it all down, flew to atlanta, and started fresh.

fresh start solves all problems, right?

well, i thought so, too.

i strolled into the all-night diner at a time that made that qualifier irrelevant… nevertheless, it was early enough that there were only two other people in the place. i onced them over briefly, and a sneaking suspicion was planted.

i sat down, opened my amharic text book, and furrowed my brow over this new, vast alphabet (actually, it’s a syllabary) i would soon have to know by heart.

the slow smile of a shared secret enlightenment grew on the pixie-ish face of the woman at the other table, the man turned to look me over quickly, shot a smile at the woman, and she asked…

you’re… not by any chance… going to ethiopia with the peace corps tomorrow?

yes i am.

us too! come on over.

if you know where to look, it’s not hard to spot peace corps.

are they tastefully dressed when they’re sitting in a diner with their hands in their lap?

are they happy to talk to strangers?

when they reach out to shake your hand do their rolled up sleeves reveal an unusual amount of mismatched bracelets?

when you get up to leave do their shoes look way too comfortable, and perhaps even stylish, to pass as business casual?

are there noticeable tattoos on this person?

you just might have peace corps on your hands.

the three of us had peace corps written all over us.

say hello to jill and andy.

andy and jill are a young married couple in G5 ethiopia.

they would be my first peace corps friends.

over the next weeks, they would inadvertently convince me that jenny and i had not made a mistake by pursuing the road less traveled by most couples.

they would start the legend of “one bag dave”.

they would spearhead many of the antics that gave G5 its personality.

they would be the fulcrum on which my frustration and aggravation with the peace corps administrative process would turn…

 desi, ethiopia, halloween 2011

it was just a few days ago i pointed out that i don’t talk (much) shit about the peace corps on this blog.

let’s do something about that, shall we?

tell me, what do you think of when i say the term “american embassy”?

i’ve been kidnapped by mexican drug dealers! call the american embassy!

i was in bangkok, and i screwed up big. call the american embassy!

i didn’t know i was in north korea. the border is vague. call the american embassy!

american embassy solves all problems, right?

well, i thought so, too.

five PCVs were strolling out of the bar in costumes that made their genders irrelevant… nevertheless. it was late enough that there weren’t many people out. a few of those that were onced over these PCVs briefly, and a sinister idea was planted.

they moved through the streets, and a ferenji became separated from the group.

the details of the events that would unfold at this point, i can only imagine, if i were so inclined to imagine such horrible things happening to a friend.

if you’re looking for a little late night sex criming, it’s not hard to spot a potential victim.

is she effeminately dressed and out alone late at night?

is she happy to talk to strangers?

when you get aggressive, does her gait reveal a trace amount of rising apprehension?

when you seize upon her does she feel a little bit stronger, and perhaps even masculine, than you thought she would?

are there unmistakable body parts that you didn’t expect?

you just might have an international incident on your hands.

this had international incident written all over it.

say goodbye to andy and jill.

jill and andy are headed back to the states because andy thought it would be harmless to dress as an ethiopian woman for halloween, and a group of habesha men thought they had found a nice little piece of candy.

andy and jill are going home because the american embassy and peace corps did not have their back in this tragedy (luckily, andy was able to escape the situation before the point of no return).

meeting andy and jill turned my frustration and aggravation with peace corps into nothing more than a bad memory buried under the mountains of good memories that G5 would provide.

losing andy and jill has unburied that frustration and aggravation.

andy was the victim of a crime, and he was asked to leave (of course jill would go with him, without question). billy and sarah were simply witnesses, and they were asked to leave. a member of G3 was also a witness, and she had but two weeks left before she could legitimately draw her service to a close, peace corps asked her to ET (think of it as the difference between honorable and dishonorable discharge).

peace corps lost five amazing volunteers because they wouldn’t go to bat for them in a time of need.

the wheels of the peace corps death pool turned ever onward, in sync with the wheels of the great peace corps bureaucratic machine.

this would be the fulcrum on which my frustration and aggravation with the peace corps administrative process would turn once more…

* * * *

stay tuned for our next episode:

when life gives you lemons, order yourself a corona.

****

couldn’t have said it better myself:

where, then, was the line crossed? when speaking of culture sharing, where does one slip from honest exposure to disrespect? for some in the office and the US embassy, the concept of a cross-dressing costume borders on the audacious or naïve stupidity. yet when surrounded by a fidel castro, ninja turtles (with shells and masks), and an abercrombe kid, it feels more genuine – brendan boland (G5), cherry street beat

parental digression.

spittin’ image of your ol’ man when he was your age, kiddo. enjoy it while it lasts, because thirty years ago, this… all this… this wasn’t the plan, man – dave sadick

i had a revelation the other day.

i was on that twelve hour roundtrip to gore and back that always proves to be both a literal and figurative pain in the ass, wondering, why? why am i doing this again? it is always a miserable trip saved only by the awesomeness of the destination.

that’s just it, i suppose.

i’m on this trip because of the awesomeness of the destination.

sometimes life’s not all about the journey.

but the revelation was not that i love both masha and gore enough to repeatedly suffer the miserable bus ride to and from with a smile on my face.

the revelation was this: just because our parents pave the way for us in life, doesn’t mean we should treat them like the department of transportation.

that is to say, good parenting (and good road maintenance) often goes by the mantra, a job well done is a job you didn’t know was done. consequently, rarely do we ever blurt out kudos for a smooth patch of asphalt, but as soon as we hit a pothole, we speak right up about what a shitty job caltrans is doing, don’t we?

at least in the western world i think we spend most of our youth trying not to be like our parents. we see all those rough bits, those bumps and divots… and then one day we realize we ended up just like them.

but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

i mean, if we only notice the bad stuff, then we can only safeguard against that bad stuff.

the habits, the temperaments, the vices, etc.

the good things, the things we take for granted, the things we never notice, those sneak through.

out here on the jimma loop, you can’t help but notice the good stuff.

regarding the roads, that is.

the roads are so bad between towns out here that the parts that stand out, the parts you notice, are the good parts, the smooth parts, the well maintained parts.

it changes your mindset. you speak up when the road is nice, when the DOT has done a good job. otherwise you just let the bad stuff pass under wheels and all.

i don’t know if this change of perspective is to blame, or what it is, but i’ll admit to expending a lot of effort in my younger days trying to avoid all those potholes i saw ahead on the road of my life, and then one day i’m about the same age my parents were when they had my brother, and i’m in masha ethiopia with the peace corps thinking i was nothing like my parents (i wasn’t actively thinking that, but in retrospect i’m sure that in the back of my mind i took some calming solace in that notion). i’m posing for picture with a group of school kids for whom i donated my artistic talents in the form of a banner for their upcoming cultural celebration, and the camera gets handed to me, and i looked at this photo of me, shaggy haired and dressed like some hippy, next to a large piece of charity artwork, and i saw all the good things that i would never be if not for my parents.

i saw the down to earth, free spirited hippie my dad was in his youth.

i saw the dozens of art projects my mother undertook for my grade school classes.

i saw that i didn’t choose not to be like my parents because that was never an option. i would always end up here, in some capacity.

it was my parents who chose not to be like me, because they chose to have me. they didn’t discard all the things that make them great people, all those things i might have seen as a child and not noticed, the nice paved patches, they simply gave those things to their children. all the while, i didn’t even know it.

after weeks of enduring the roads of SNNPR just to spend time with the jimma loopers, after weekends of sweaty, itchy, bloody, blistered hikes through the jungles just to spend five minutes in the refreshing mist of some waterfall or another, after a childhood that i might describe as rougher than most, but not as rough as many, i had a revelation…

sometimes a rough road leads to a pretty awesome destination.

* * * *

this is going to be really sappy, but i don’t think i say this enough…

thanks mom and dad, you know… for everything.

* * * *

stay tuned for our next episode:

site developments.