After informing our local Peace Corps trainer that we were opting out of the program, we packed up while he called Addis. The drive back from Debre Birhan seemed longer than the trip to the town had been. For one thing, the Peace Corps driver was pretty upset with us, and for another we felt guilty. When we got back to Addis Ababa, our friends still in the area came to our hotel to see us before we left, and we had unpleasant interviews with the Peace Corps Ethiopia staff. A couple of people privately admitted that they understood our reasons for leaving, but I imagine somewhere I have a “permanent record” entry that says we were unsatisfactory.
The truth was our training was inadequate, and our mission was flawed. I wish we’d had more training in what to expect as far as the desperate level of poverty and less history. The flawed mission issue was addressed by the Peace Corps not long after our program ended, because more than half of our training program left before the two year period was up. They changed the focus of the entire Peace Corps from teaching to community development. The trainee joke was that it was a government-subsidized program for liberal arts graduates who didn’t know what to do with their lives.
Everyone in our program who left had, like us, seen the absolute folly of teaching people in a third world country how to speak English – especially given that there were next to no jobs for English-speaking people in the country. We would have been teaching people so they could go to Haille Selasie University…and then move to India where there were jobs for them.
The people involved in community development actually made a difference in the everyday lives of the Ethiopian people. One guy in our training program was hired by the Ethiopian government after his two year term was up. He organized street boys into a small startup company that did tie-dying. Their products were shipped to several countries, providing income and a future to people who had neither.
Our flight left Addis Ababa and flew north to Cairo. This was just over a year after the ’67 war between Israel and Egypt, and as we came into Cairo the pilot made the strangest maneuver I’d ever seen. We could see the airport out the left side of the plane, but we were not turning toward it. Suddenly he banked sharply to the left, and the plane actually bounced from one wheel to another as we landed. Whew. We found out in the airport that there were military installations they were not allowed to let outsiders see. I bought an Egyptian hanging in the airport gift shop, and it’s hanging on my wall today.
The next leg of our journey took us to Rome where we had a short layover. When we were called to our plane, we were stopped because there was a fee to leave Italy. We didn’t have any Italian money, and the guard didn’t speak English, so we had a problem. Finally, when they gave the last call for boarding, Bill threw all of the bills we had at the guy – some Ethiopian money, some dollars, and some Egyptian currency. While he was trying to organize and count it, we ran for the plane. I thought we might get pulled off the plane, but he must have had pity on us.
From Rome, we flew to Madrid where we spent the night at the King Philip V Hotel – I think that was the name. Once we got back from dinner in the hotel, Bill called to verify our flight
information for the following day only to discover that the Peace Corps had only booked us to Madrid. We had to set up our reservations for the rest of the way home ourselves. And we were running out of money. We booked from Madrid to Lisbon, then Lisbon to New York. That was all the money we had. And neither of our sets of parents knew that we had left Ethiopia, because we didn’t have any way to contact them. At the Madrid airport, we sent a Bill’s parents a telegram telling them we were coming home and to let my parents know. And we told them we’d call from New York. I always felt that the Peace Corps shorted us on purpose because we left the program early. They had told us we were booked to New York, but that wasn’t the truth.
When we got to Lisbon, we were waiting for the flight to New York when we heard a commotion off to our right. It was obvious that “someone” was coming, someone important. I saw a stunningly beautiful woman surrounded by photographers – this was before we called them paparazzi – next to a frumpy little man in a madras sports jacket. They sat down, and people swarmed all around them. When the crowd backed off – after everyone had taken their photographs – I went over with my camera and got a photo of Bing Crosby and his wife Katherine. After I took the picture, he looked at me with mild disgust. I didn’t blame him. I felt like the ugliest of Americans. But I got the photo.
Upon arrival in New York, we called Bill’s parents and had them wire us enough money to fly to Richmond where his aunt and uncle would meet us. We were completely broke and didn’t even have money to tip a guy to help with our bags. This was before luggage carts were available. I remember we apologized profusely, and he smiled and said it was okay.
By the time we arrived in Richmond, we were beyond exhausted. Two days before we’d been in Ethiopia. We slept for twelve hours, but Bill had to re-enroll at UNC. I stayed with Bill’s aunt, uncle and two kids while he went to Chapel Hill. Three days later, he came back, re-enrolled in his graduate history program and with a car, a 1966 Chevy Malibu, maroon with black interior. He’d also found us a small apartment in Carrboro, the town next to Chapel Hill.
(c) jgschenck 2023
Filed under: Peace Corps | Leave a comment »