Language barriers February 15
So, I have an Ethiopian house worker (maid) who comes to my little studio three times a week. Her name is Sebula and she's from a village somewhere outside Addis. She doesn't speak English so we're left to leaving notes for each other, translated by one of the school's secretaries. The only way I know she's from a village is that she has tattoos on her face that go from her ears and trace her jaw line to her chin, like a chinstrap. You see these tattoos (a chain of crosses basically) all the time when you come across women from villages. I've no idea why they get them; as soon as my Amharic gets better I'll ask Sebula. Also, I'll try to get a picture with her sometime within the next year; I'm guessing she'll be comfortable enough around me by then.
I honestly have no need for her as I enjoy, yes enjoy, cleaning. I just wanted to give her some hours so she could make more money (she cleans three other teachers' apartments.) She's an extremely sweet girl—probably about 25 years old, although I have a feeling she doesn't know exactly how old she is, which isn't uncommon for people from villages. I've run into a couple of other people while hiking who gave approximations of their ages. Anyway, like a typical village woman, as I'm learning, Sebula still is a bit uneasy around men, and she is still getting used to me. She used to jump back when I entered my apartment while she was in there during the day. She's calmed down a lot as I try to practice my Amharic with her and initiate conversations.
Language has been a small issue. Once I had Sebula go to the grocery store to pick up a couple of things during the middle of the week. Among other things, I had asked for paper towels, chocolate cereal and milk. She didn't know what paper towels were so she came to my classroom while I was teaching with roll of paper towels and asked if that was what I meant. I said yes, and went back to teaching. When I got home later that day the groceries were on the counter. But there were a few surprises owing to the language barrier. Instead of chocolate cereal I got Nutella, and instead of milk I got a soy soda spritzer. O.K., I can handle the 7 dollar Nutella (!!!), but soy soda spritzer ?! Who? Why?..out of control.
On another occasion I wrote a note asking Sebula to go to the market across the street to get some carrots. I must have been making some stew. I wrote down .5 kilos, about a pound. When I got back to my apartment after school there was a huge pile of carrots that had been bleached (we're supposed to soak our veggies and fruit in bleach water before we eat them; sometimes I do, sometimes I don't—trying to develop that Iron Stomach) next to the sink. Apparently decimals haven't gained much currency over here, because I definitely had 5 kilos of carrots (11 pounds) on my counter.
I need to work on my Amharic. Melkam k'an!
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