A Week of Contrasts

So how’s life? I have had an absolutely fantastic week. The Maychew Olympics are still going and are only just now starting to wrap up. I’ve watched enough handball, volleyball, basketball, and badminton to last me through the end of the year. I have spent an amazing time hanging out with friends: Peace Corps volunteers, Ethiopians, and the German volunteer and her visiting friend. We’ve talked, eaten, joked, laughed, and watched the Olympics together, and it has been an absolutely great time. Yesterday, I spent three hours talking German with my friend, during which she graciously shared with me schwarzbrot and good german chocolate, and had my first HOT shower in almost two months. Throughout it all, I’ve even managed to get some work done, which has left me very content with life here in Ethiopia. Even more content than before, which I didn’t think was possible.

But in addition to the great things that happened this week, tragedy also struck my compound late Saturday afternoon when we received word that Ephraim, the eldest son of the parents in my compound, died in a car accident. As is Ethiopian tradition, a mourning tent was constructed outside of our compound in which the family, friends, and members of the community have come over the past 5 days (and will continue to come for several more) to publicly mourn the loss of a family member. Needless to say, the scene at my house has been very sad and difficult over the past few days. Though I’d met Ephraim once, he was old enough to live on his own and I never had the chance to really get to know him, unfortunately. I’ve felt awkward and intrusive during most of this mourning period, because I didn’t know him well enough to really feel the loss of his sudden departure nor did I know the culturally appropriate way to pay my respects to him. This time has still been sad though, because it breaks my heart to see the family that I have come to love so much hurting so deeply. In fact, more than anything I’ve felt completely helpless, because, after all, what can you really say to comfort someone who has just lost a son? Or a brother? Or a best friend? The words “I’m sorry” don’t seem to really grasp the emotion or comfort you want it to in Amharic or Tigrena either.

This past week has been the ultimate example of the stark contrast between life, which we often take for granted, and death, which always comes to soon. And the maddening part about it is that it’s hard to fully appreciate life or death when you are surrounded by both. Is it right to bask in the warmth of the sun shining brightly in the cloudless sky when your brother is silently crying beside you? And how can you smile at the promise of new life from a wedding, when it’s being held not fifty yards from where you sit with a wailing mother bemoaning the end of one? Even now as I type this blog I can just hear family and friends crying under the bright songs of the birds cheerfully chirping right outside my window.

In the end, life and death are extremely powerful ideas that none of us can ever fully comprehend though we all try to. The fact of the matter is, one day we will all die. And as depressing, cold, and terrifying as it may be, it’s comforting to know that when all is said and done, life goes on.