Devil in the Details

There's a saying something like that, right? If not, it's probably a Bones episode title.

Regardless, I've spent time thinking about what exactly about Ethiopia is so charming, and it's obviously a lot of big things- the beautiful, generous people, the cultural diversity, and the amazing landscapes and wildlife, among others. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to remember those though, so I've come up with a few things that add to the experience and that I might not necessarily remember if I don't write about it.

These are eight things that add to the quirky charm of every day life in Ethiopia, in no particular order.

1. The police don't seem to have cars, except in bigger cities, so you can spot them catching rides on motorbikes, just like everyone else. They also stand on the side of the highway and wait for the buses to stop so they can check to make sure there aren't too many passengers. The occasional bus driver may or may not happen to see them there.

2. "Selam no?" "Inden no?" "Denna no?" Ethiopians love their greetings and sometimes it seems like half the conversation is made up of the parties asking if the other is fine. Americans ask about the weather when there isn't anything else to say... Ethiopians just ask how you're doing three more times.

3. The whole country is a BYOTP party. Only the fanciest hotels provide toilet paper, and even that isn't a sure thing. I always make sure to have some on me. In case you were wondering, you probably don't want to keep it in your pocket with fresh picked spicy peppers, and regardless of how terrible your  dysentery is making you feel, make sure to grab a few sheets on your way to the clinic, just in case.

4. Outside of the big cities like Addis and Awassa, the traffic is far more dependent on four legged back ups than it is on four wheeled back ups. Even in the big cities you'll see horses and donkeys hanging out in the middle of the road, and goats taking naps in the median.

5. Haggling. As I was leaving a hotel, a bajaj driver offered 30 birr, which I declined, so he offered me a very special deal: only 50 birr! Eventually, I convinced him that I was serious about not paying anything more than a local would pay, and I was so proud of myself.

6. In Konso, when a person is sick and can't walk, they make a wooden stretcher, wrap 'em up, and tie 'em on. The further they go through town, the bigger the crowd following them along. I was glad to have a friend clarify that they were sick people, and not corpses, like I'd previously thought.

7. Time travel! Ethiopia runs on it's own calendar that is eight years behind ours, so it's 2005 there. They also tell time differently- being so close to the equator, the days are a fairly consistent twelve hours throughout the year, and so the clock starts at 12, which is our 6 am. It takes some getting used to, and I've only made appointments and been surprised when the person showed up six hours early a couple of times.

8. Safety is of the utmost concern. Evidence: Maaaaaaaybe one in fifty motorcyclists wears a helmet, almost always of the construction site variety. Additionally, the welders in Konso protect their faces- using cardboard squares with holes for their eyes/sunglasses which hold the contraption on their faces.

Call Me the Pied Piper of Ethiopian Children

...except, y'know, I left them all where they were, completely unharmed. And ignoring the fact that every ferenji walking around town gets the same treatment.



 

 

This is one of my favorite kid photos, even though I have dozens of them.

One Sunday (the only day I wasn't workin' hard), the other volunteers and I trekked the short distance from SF to town, grabbed some breakfast (egg and avocado on fresh made bread) and meandered for a bit. They hadn't seen the market area before, so we wandered down there, even though there wasn't much to see because market days are Monday and Saturday. As we were leaving, we met a group of seven or eight kids, who were positively delighted to run up and say hello to the ferenjis. I'd picked up enough Amharic to ask their names and have a very short conversation, full of giggles and confusion, and then we continued on our way- but not alone.

These two handsome fellows followed us back the kilometer or so that we walked, smiling widely the entire time. We were making a quick stop at the cultural center before heading home, so I asked them if I could take a photo, and little red shirted man their on the right puffed up his chest in his best imitation of a world-class body builder and strode up to his friend to pose. I handed them a couple of birr for the photo, and off they ran, back to their friends (cousins? siblings?) by the market place.

On a side note, I happened upon a couple of Ethiopian Peace Corps volunteer blogs, and I felt a little less guilty for some of the lingering negative feelings I have about my experience, knowing that it isn't just me who gets frustrated with the constant attention, or the very common expectation that because you're a white person, you should hand things out all the time. Now that I'm home, those things don't matter much, but it was a very real, very hard, part of being there.

More photos to come!

Happy Birthday 'Merica!

Fear not, I made it back to the good ol' US of A safe and sound, and free of unwanted adventures. As for wanted adventures, there were plenty of those!

In the two plus weeks I've been back, I've spent sometime in Virginia with la familia, had a very successful job interview in North Carolina, and over indulged in as much chocolate as I've been able to get my hands on.

I have yet to really sort through all my photos, but I'll be working on that and sharing some of my favorites here in the next few weeks.

Now go eat some grilled food, enjoy the sticky hot humidity (if you're lucky enough to be on the beautiful East Coast!), and watch some fireworks.
 

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity-Jig

After a whirl-wind past couple of weeks that included co-teaching a permaculture design course, an unbelievable three day trip to the tribes of the Omo Valley, and an unexpected but lovely extra day in Konso, I've started my trek back north to Addis Ababa and the Bole International Airport. I'm currently in Awassa, enjoying internet that isn't ridiculously expensive, cold mango juice, and a beautiful evening on the lakeside, watching the monkeys play in front of my window.

I'm feeling so incredibly, incredibly blessed right now. The past few days have been beyond amazing, and it's been harder than I thought it would be to say good-bye to the wonderful friends I've made. Right at this moment, if someone said "Hey, I have a position open. You can stay in Ethiopia for another year." I'd say yes without even having to think about it. (That answer might change if I go another three days without a decent shower. Even the nicest hotel in Konso didn't have water.)

My flight leaves Addis in three days, and I only wish there were a way to spend those three days with friends, instead of travelling and wrapping up police bidniz here in Awassa.

See you on the flipside!

Things I'll Miss Most

Again, in no particular order.

Being disconnected. There are (plenty of times) when not having a reliable phone network or constant Internet access is a hassle, but for the most part, I’ve really enjoyed not feeling the need to check my cell phone every five minutes, to see what the latest and greatest (and not the least bit important) on facebook is, or to be constantly hearing about whatever the daily tragedy is that the media is harping on.

The food. Papayas never topped my favorite fruits list, but that was probably because they were the grocery store variety, and not fresh picked from the tree. Add to papayas, mangoes, fresh picked salad with garden grown lemon dressing, injera, sambusa, shiro, fresh made chapatti, asa (fish) lebleb, ful, red beef curry and so many others, and I know I’ll spend just as much time drooling over the good stuff here once I’m home as I have drooling over things I miss from home here.

The views, I’m writing this while sitting in a hammock at 6:30, watching the clouds and the light shift in preparation for another incredible sunset. I’ve started taking walks down to the next village in the morning, and I never stop being amazed at how beautiful this place is.  It’s only convinced me more that I need to end up living in the mountains.

The people.  One of my favorite parts of traveling is meeting people from all over, and my time in Ethiopia has been no exception. I’m lucky to get to spend every day working with such delightful people, and as much as I get frustrated with the constant stares and yells, I love the grins and handshakes from the kids as I walk by. I’ve also been beyond lucky to encounter more than my fair share of interesting, intelligent, genuinely kind good-hearted foreigners, all with stories to share, many of whom have helped in making the touristing here so much more enjoyable.

The work. After eight hours of serious activity, the first thing on my mind is a shower (with temperatures nearing luke-warm if it’s a good day), and the second is how long until dinner. I’m asleep by ten at the latest every night, and I love it. There’s something wonderfully honest about being able to see visible results after hard day’s work.

Things I'm Looking Forward to Most

In no particular order.

Clean, running water. It tops my list of things that I take for granted back home- there’s hardly ever a time or place that I don’t have access to drinkable water, while here I am never confident that one little sip of water I haven’t purchased in a bottle or personally filtered won’t earn me another party with the dysentery fairy. And let’s not even talk about showers right now.

Fooooooood. Not just any food though. I spend more time than I should admit contemplating what my ideal first meal back in the States will be. Currently it involves water straight out of the tap, a Chipotle burrito, garden fresh strawberries and snow peas, topped off with Hagen Dazs peanut butter chocolate ice cream, with a side of Trader Joe’s salted dark chocolate covered almonds. If that doesn’t happen, I have several contingency plans as well.  Basically, if it involves chocolate or needs refrigeration, it hasn’t crossed my lips in months.

Being a face in the crowd again. If you’ve read many of my posts, you’ve probably picked up on the fact that I get stared at and yelled at any time I step outside. It’s been one of the harder things for me to adjust to, and I’m looking forward to walking down any street and blending right in.

Exercise for funsies. It’s a toss up whether I’m looking forward to going on a quick run to the community college, on a bike ride to Sandy Point State Park, or on a hike through Patapsco more. Even though I work outside all day every day right now, I can’t wait to go just for the sake of going.

Seeing the fam-bamily again. As my uncle Chuck says, “I’m so lucky to be related to all of my favorite people.” Saying that this trip would have been a complete disaster without the love and support and rescuing that they gave me is a serious understatement, and I look forward to spending time telling stories and catching up when I get back home.

Kickbacks and Kindness

I’ve mentioned the whole getting my laptop stolen, but here’s a quick run-down of the story:

The cousin-man and I started on our way down to Konso from Addis Ababa, planning on a quick stop in Awassa, which breaks the fourteen hour trip up nicely. We ended up at a less than fantastic hotel under less than ideal circumstances and planned to make the best of it- see the area for a day, spend another night, and then catch the six am bus to be on our way. Unfortunately, plans changed when we got back to our (locked) room after an afternoon in the nearby Shashemene to find that my laptop, Kindle, all my money which I’d planned to live off of for the next year, and a few things of my cousin’s were missing. 

My reaction was far from lady-like, I kicked things and screamed more than a few profanities and was a general mess. The staff of the hotel were intentionally unhelpful, they kept saying that we must have left our things in a bajaj, refusing to call either the police or the hotel owner and later cooked up some story about a friend coming into the hotel with us who must have gotten in to our locked room, taken our things, locked the door, and then disappeared without a trace.  Luckily, my loud reaction garnered the attention of a couple other guests, who happened to be members of the Ethiopian Parliament, and who made sure we made it to the police station, filed a report, and kept checking in with us on the situation even after they’d left.

It’s now two months later, and we’re still trying to sort the situation out. The latest news is that the police report has gone missing and somehow none of the policemen at the station seem to remember a couple of distraught ferenjis hanging out for several hours over a couple of days. Apparently bribery is a fairly common solution to such problems and if I’d greased a few palms myself, things might have had some kind of conclusion in my favor by now.

So, my introduction to Ethiopian law enforcement leaves plenty to be desired. At this point, I’m calling it a lesson learned and consider my economic investment in Ethiopia complete.  My hope is that who ever took everything has used it give their families good things that they wouldn’t have had before, and that the money wasn’t immediately donated to the nearest pub or chat house.

A lot of times in life, I’ve found that the immediate negative experiences also make for some of the most positive experiences, and this instance is no different.

Practically every one that’s heard about what happened has reacted with incredible kindness and sympathy, and it would take far too long to write about all of the stories. The following day, I broke down sobbing in a bajaj because the hotel a friend recommended we go stay at ended up being closed for renovations, and I really just wanted to be home, surrounded by people with whom I could communicate. The driver ended up driving us in a couple of circles around the town, trying to find a place for us, locating police, and getting us back to the scene of the crime hotel right as the owner’s daughter was arriving to sort everything out. He could have dumped us out as soon as possible, charged an exorbitant foreigners price and called it a day, but instead he took care of us and when we tried to pay, he wouldn’t take any money for his effort.

It took a couple of days before we could leave Awassa, and we had to stop in Arba Minch to catch a mini-bus to Konso. When we got to the bus station, I asked how much the bus to Konso would be, and got quoted a price that was approximately three times what it should have been, and rather than haggle, I stormed off to sit on the wall and wait for the next mini-bus.  A couple of the bus boys noticed and invited me over to sit down at the rest/coffee area they have in the corner of the station, and by the time I climbed on to the mini-bus, I had a group of about fifteen friends saying good-bye and making sure everything was alright.

I’ve had plenty of time to reflect on how everything went down, and even though it’s thrown a bit of a wrench in my plans (combined with a couple of other factors, it means I’ll be coming home much sooner than scheduled), I can’t say it’s been entirely negative because so much good has come out of it. I’ve been reminded of how supportive my family is, and amazed at how far out of their way some people will go to help a complete stranger.  I’ve also become a little bit more distrustful of small things like locks and guards at door entrances. ;)

A Day in the Life

I figured at least a couple of my loyal readers (Hi Mom and Rhonda!) might like to read about what my days usually look like.

5:30 a.m.- Approximately this time, the churches in town start their broadcasts. Discordant choruses of “Hallelujah, hallelujah!” find their way into my ear drums, competing with the call to prayer wafting down from the mosque.

6:15 a.m.- Hello alarm! I hit the snooze button once (Or twice. Or three times.) before hopping out of bed to do a few minutes of yoga. On the good mornings, that yoga is followed by a twenty-minute walk to Gersale, the next village over with more beautiful views than should be legal.

7:25 a.m.- Breakfast. The ladies in the kitchen perform all sorts of magic.  My favorite breakfast is ful- a chick pea stew type thing served with homemade bread. A close second is a fresh egg omelete with tomato and chili peppers served on homemade chapati. I’ll post pictures at some point of the kitchen set-up, and you’ll be amazed that anything gets cooked.

8:00 a.m. to 12:00 a.m.- Workin’ hard. The tasks vary, but usually I spend at least a bit of time tending to the tomatoes that are fighting a losing battle with spider mites.  Other fun jobs include digging new holes for the compost toilets, collecting manure from the village, transplanting seedlings from the nursery to the rest of the property, watering recently transplantees, moving 1,000 liter water tanks around the property, building new compost piles, improving on raised beds, mulching other beds, and working on the drip irrigation system.

12:00-1:30 p.m.- Break time. I get lunch some time in here, and chat with other workers, or hang out in the hammock reading before reporting back for duty.

1:30-5:30 p.m.- Mo’ work, mo’ fun.

5:30 p.m.- My fervent prayers that the water will be on and something other than frigid start now.  If I’m lucky, they’re answered and I spend the rest of the evening feeling so fresh and so clean. If not… every one else stinks too.  Maybe once a week or so, I head into town for soup and sambusa and to see something besides the pathways and gardens here. The rest of the evenings, I hang out with the other volunteers or read a bit until dinner.

7:30 p.m.- Dinner! Another of my top three favorite moments in every day. Yet another culinary delight awaits, usually some kind of pasta with veggies or injera (flat bread made with the endemic Ethiopian grain teff) with some kind of curry sauce.

9:30 p.m.- I usually fall into bed sometime around now, after having deep philosophical conversation or serenading Sara, with whom I share the dorm. She appreciates it a lot. My mosquito net keeps me safe from terrible malaria bearing zimbi (mosquito in Amharic) and makes me feel like a pretty, pretty princess at the same time.

This is another "I'm Still Alive!" Post

I have managed to get to the internet in the past couple of weeks, just not with enough time to post.  I’ve mostly been doing the usual work- weeding, transplanting, trying out different biopesticide receipes, and gathering fresh manure for compost piles I then get the honor of building. This past Monday, however, we started another two week Permaculture Design Course here on site, and I’ve gotten to co-teach a couple of sessions, which has been a rad experience, on top of being something pretty to put on my resume.   

With the three other volunteers staying here, I’ve made my way up to town significantly more often- usually for some kind of culinary delight., although we have done a bit of exploring as well.  My time is winding down, and I’m trying to figure out how to fit everything in that I hope to do while I’m here.

I have a couple more posts scheduled, that says a lot more than this one does, so keep checking back! Eventually I’ll get my photos all sorted out, and there will be plenty of those to share as well.

Strawberry Fields' Furry Faces

 These puppies have since been denied free range of the farm and are now guard dogs in training.

 Our meal time entertainment.

Our goat had a friend for a little while, but then we had a big dinner at the end of the course.

And my favorite furry face... cousin Roman has cheerfully put up with me for the past two months. What a champ.