Reflections from a displaced other

The season is beautiful and my share is good
And all of my hopes shall finally have their turn.

I have now been gone a month, and suppose its time to begin reflecting on my new life here. Reflection is a dangerous business though, and I have learned to stay away from it as nearly as possible. Many emails have been sent, and quite a few blogspot posts written, but I have yet to write a single page in my journal. It is probably safe to begin doing so now, and for the sake of my future self I may do so. Yet as I read through the journal I realized the consistent difficulty I have relocating to 'strange new worlds'. With striking regularity I have trouble finding my way past the two week mark, and with the same regularity I move forward as a new person after the fortnight. I wrote to a friend that the changes that have taken place in me have not been profound; in fact I should not call them "life changing." But I also realize that events and situations can be "life changing" without being profound; if there has been change (and there almost certainly has) then it must be taking place in this latter sense.

I originally wrote several pages of rant at this point, mostly about US foreign policy. I decided that though blogs are often used to voice opinions that no one else cares about, I would rise above this temptation. If you want to hear meaningless political dribble, you have talk radio at your disposal. I'll stick to writing about my life in Ethiopia. The point of writing about US foreign policy, however, was to point out the ways in which living here has given me an 'outsiders' perspective on US politics. The people here, even those living in the remotest of tribes, know painfully well that they live in the poorest, least powerful part of the world, and that the US is the richest, most powerful nation in the world. One thing I noticed upon arrival was how quiet the mosques are. I came prepared to hear prayers blasting from loudspeakers throughout the day. I am told that since the war in Iraq the prayers have been muted. The political struggles of Ethiopia are as disconnected from Iraq as Amy Grant is from talent, yet the defeat there has fascinating ripples here.

I've also come to the realization that I will never 'fit in' here. I don't mean this in the sense that I, je, ich, will never be comfortable with cold showers, powdered milk, or eating out of someone else's hand. Nor do I mean that because of my wealth I will never be comfortable amidst poverty. Rather, I will never fit in because the people here will never see me as someone who is comfortable with all of these things. I will always stick out, just as any of you who come here will stick out (and, keeping in mind, that I assume not ALL of you reading this blog are crackers. I suspect African Americans would stick out as well, though you may be able to slip in and out of the market without immediate detection). For the first month here this kept me from doing several things. I didn't go on any long bike rides, knowing that I would be pointed at and laughed... with? Mostly at. Local teens come and play volleyball outside my window at work. How many afternoons did I not go play? Lately I've come to embrace this difference rather than fear it. Yes, I am white. Yes, I am rich. But I'm also here, and it does much more to help me and us for me to ride my bike with kids running next to me up the hill, or play volleyball (rather badly) with the teens than it does for me to hide inside my office listening to Bjork with my headphones on while reading Pierre Hadot explain why the classical philosophy expounded in Plotinus and Poryphyry has much more to do with contemporary forms of life than we dare to imagine (and he's right).

Speaking of forms of life, amidst the veritable cornucopia of differences between my culture and this, there is a lot to be agreed upon as well. A smile is still a smile. To look upon the smiling face of the other is to encounter them - almost to know them. A smile is something we can agree upon. And that's something. A child's laugh is laughter, wherever its heard. That I can understand. Perhaps smiles and laughter are 'merely' cultural - if so at least my culture agrees with this about these two matters. That too is something. Something encouraging.

So now you have it. I play volleyball and ride my bike, and I listen to children laugh and we smile together when they do. I go to religious festivals and celebrate Orthodox Christian holidays that we've never heard of. I shop for produce in the market. I walk to the tops of mountains on dusty old roads that have looked the same for centuries as they do now, all the while chewing sugar cane (in much the same way it has been chewed for centuries). On Sundays I go to church and listen to prayers - sometimes tears - of the other. All the while I am pointed at, called to, smiled at, greeted by strangers. The I that is I can do little more than be here - and in being here I am utterly alone. But in my, in our, aloneness is found commonality. In knowing that I am alone the other knows that I am other - and the possibility for encounter is created. Perhaps, even as friends. And to become friends with another - with, the other, the other that is even foreign (American!) - well, that's almost Christian.

Tomorrow I will go 'exploring' again; exploring with my friend whose name I don't know (you cannot ask for a name after living with someone for three weeks). Sometime soon I will describe Meskal - the holiday mentioned above celebrating the rediscovery of the cross upon which Jesus was crucified.

For now, I bid you good morning, or good night, or good day.

Peace

A Few Changes

I've made a few changes and revisions to the html template for the blog. Mostly you shouldn't even notice them, unless there is an error. If you have any difficulties with the blog that you didn't have before (or don't think you would have if this is your first time here) please let me know.

The two potential problems will involve javascript and smaller monitors (800x600). Thanks!

My room again. 

Overlooking Jimma Valley. The palace is in there on the left somewhere. 

My house. 

Tenaya and Teressa cooking my dinner. 

My room... 

Coup d'etat

(Afternoon, 25 Sep 05)

I have been instructed by Dan to inform any worried family or friends that I'm "OK." So there you have it. Before you've even asked, or even thought to need to ask, you know. I'm "OK." Now, for the 95% of you who have no idea why you should need to know that I'm OK, I ought to reprimand you for never clicking the link on the right of the blog that says "News of Ethiopia." In any event, I'll just catch you up. Over the summer a major election took place in Ethiopia, and the opposition party went from 12 of 540 house seats to 170 of 540 seats. The ruling party hung-on to the majority and will continue to govern. The opposition has maintained throughout that the election was rigged, and for the past month or so the "official" results have not been released pending investigations by the election board. About a week ago the final results were announced, giving the numbers you see above. The opposition refuses to accept the results. Furthermore, though the ruling party maintained control of Ethiopia, they lost overwhelmingly in the capital of Addis. Control of the capital is changing hands October 9. October 2 the opposition is planning various demonstrations against the ruling party. The president says that these demonstrations are aimed at a potential hostile overthrow of the government, though the opposition says they are peaceful demonstrations. Most likely the latter is true, and the president just doesn't want it to happen. In any case, there may be some unrest in Addis from October 2 through the 9th.

I, however, live 400km from Addis in a rural town that for the most part is unaffected by events in Addis, except that I may lose communication abilities. (Although, for that matter, international calls seem to be blocked at this point anyway). So, like I said before, I'm "OK" and you don't need to worry. In a worst case scenario we have plans to get us out of the country quickly.

On a lighter note, the weather has been gorgeous lately. The rainy season is finally over, and October early November are the best months here. The cool weather of the rainy season remains, but the mud is gone. In December and on the weather will be a bit warmer, but right now its perfect. Blue skies with a few clouds, and temperatures around 78. Yesterday I walked with a friend to the top of a mountain on the west side of town. Jimma is built in a valley with mountains on all sides. The palace of King Abba Jiffar is on the route. I didn't get to go in, as they charge foreigners a whopping 3USD to enter (locals pay about 15 cents), and I had only about a dollar on me at the time. I'm sure I'll go back. There are some pictures of the palace from a distance below, as well as some pictures from the top of the mountain looking down across the valley.

Also during the week I hired a maid. Her name is Tenaya, which if I remember correctly translates to "my health." She does my laundry, keeps the bathroom clean, and cooks dinner. I leave lunch open for variety. Most days I go on a long bike ride, or walk through town trying to learn all the roads. There are no road signs or road names, so its a bit difficult keeping everything strait. There's a picture of Tenaya and Teressa below; Teressa is a servant girl or something. I think she is the child of a family friend of the couple that lives with me; she lives here and does various chores, and in exchange gets to go to school, have plenty of food to eat, etc.

Anbessu - the NGO Director - has been gone for the past few days, leaving me in charge of the office. Its rather humorous I think; I have to sign requisition slips for cash or vehicles, written in a script (let alone language) that I can't read or understand. I have no idea what I'm signing. Oh well. I may show up tomorrow to find I sold the facilities to a local beggar.

Anyway there are some other pictures added above as well. A few of my house, my room, etc.

I think I'll go take a nap.

Michael

Cold Showers, Warm Milk

(Saturday, 17 September 2005)

Well, what shall I report since the New Year?

Early in the week I made a trip into the field, similar to the trip I took the week before. The first trip I made with Alemu, the second with my house-mate Gimetchu. Gimetchu has less experience driving than Alemu, and wasn't comfortable taking the wheel down the roads we would have to travel. This, of course, left me as the driver. Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Does he have a license to drive in Ethiopia?' And, of course, the answer is no. I specifically asked when still in Addis if I should get a license, and the consensus was no. I think, however, this had more to do with saving the 50USD and less to do with not wanting me to drive. I am asked, in fact, to drive quite a bit. Driving is a rare privilege here, and even those with licenses often defer to a foreigner, as the locals are uncomfortable behind the wheel.

Needless to say, every soldier we passed made my heart beat faster, knowing they would pull over the foreigner and ask to see his license. I am promised, however, that they never bother foreigners, until there is an accident. At that point they would leverage my lack of license against me for a hefty fee, plus an exorbitant amount for damages against whoever I hit. The rule of thumb in Ethiopia is that the pedestrian has the right of way, and there are various rules for fault-finding in the case of an accident involving two vehicles. In the case of a foreigner, however, the solution is simple: it is always the foreigners fault. Period. If they jump in front of you from behind a tree while you're swerving to miss a cow while doing 100km/hr on a muddy road, its your fault.

The roads don't help the situation any either. To travel 100km can easily take a full day. As I drove, I continually had to switch in and out of 4 wheel drive. The tires lost their tread years ago, which adds a bit of adventure to climbing out of 2 foot deep mud holes. At one point I was forced into deep mire to pass a freight truck that was stuck in the mud. It was being pulled out of the mud by its 10 or so passengers, who had a hemp rope tied around the front bumper and running 30 feet or so out of the hole. We got out first, but only after killing the truck once, and I think puncturing the radiator. At any rate by the time we reached Ambuye we were leaking fluid and the engine was getting hot. On the return trip we stopped every half hour or so to refill with water.

The scenery was, of course, spectacular. I road back in near silence, as Gemitchu stayed behind and my only other passenger didn't speak English. Ah, he was not quite the only other passenger. As we left Ambuye, my fears turned into reality as two soldiers waved us over. Shoulder mounted AK-47's do much more to instill authority than the hip mounted pistols you see in the states. In any case, it turned out fine as one of them just wanted a ride. I was thanked profusely and even received a salute. How silly of me to worry.

We are running into a bit of difficulty in some of the field sites, and my presence doesn't help the matter. It seems there is another NGO in the area doing studies on the recent Polio outbreak. They have international funding, and to speed up the process have opted to pay participants for their field research. Usually this consists in various group discussions to gather information. When we arrive to do a similar study (on AIDS rather than Polio), the pattern is now set that we must pay participants. Since we do not have the funding for this (and disagree philosophically anyway), we often loose participants who show up and ask for their "Per Diem" fee. When we refuse, they leave. Having a white face in the field heightens the problem, as they assume we are working with large amounts of money. You would think communities would actually WANT to decrease the number of AIDS victims, but such is life.

I am still a point of interest wherever I go. Children follow me in throngs and want to shake my hand. Calls of, "You! You you you!" Or, "Forengee! Forengee!" follow me as I wander. For whatever reason, I enjoy Forengee and loathe You. Often when they cry "Forengee (foreigner)!" I reply, "Yet al?" which is "where is he?" They laugh. I laugh. We laugh.

Today was market day, and my presence there, once again, creates difficulty for any locals I'm with. Everyone tries to sell to me, and every beggar tries to beg from me. Its often hard to walk. Prices go up when I'm around as well. My company continually has to convince the sellers that the items are not for me. (Do I really look like someone who would purchase 6 cloves of garlic?)

My original plan for the weekend was to be in Addis Ababa (the capital of Ethiopia) for a board meeting. I must admit, I was looking forward to the trip. Mostly for the company of other native English speakers, but two other items enticed me as well: a hot shower and cold milk. As it is, I'm stuck with cold showers and hot milk. When I first began the cold showers 2 weeks ago, I told myself that by the time I left Ethiopia I would be so accustomed to cold showers I wouldn't even choose hot when I returned to the states. I told myself this, of course, to deceive myself into believing it wasn't that bad. This is a lie. Admittedly, I am growing slowly more accustomed to the cold shower; for the past few days I have even stood directly under the fall of water. But I no longer believe I will ever willfully choose a cold shower. The same is true of milk, though I never attempted to convince myself otherwise. Warm powdered milk will get you through a bowl of cereal when you just can't eat another local meal, but lets not kid ourselves about its attributes.

For now I'll continue listening to the third movement of Beethoven's Sonata #14 in C Sharp Minor, Op. 27/2, "Moonlight," as performed by Alfred Brendel. I think I'll find out what Mr. Frodo and the fellowship are up to next as well.

Peace

(PS: By the time I post this it may very well be Sunday or Monday. Every phone number in Ethiopia changed saturday, and no one seems to know what the internet number changed too. The network is only running at around 50% anyway, since everyone is calling each other and information to figure out what the numbers are. Oh the growing pains of a developing country...)

(PPS: I heard on BBC Africa that the White House has released a list of songs from GW's iPod. Among the songs included is “My Sherona”. Nice.)

Monkies outside Fayyaa offices. 

Monkies outside Fayyaa offices. 

Happy New Year!

Happy Ethiopian New Year!  This morning I awoke to the sound of singing in the streets.  Today is the first of the year for Ethiopians.  They are on the Julian calendar, and today is 1-1-98.  How exciting.  For those of you who were obsessed with the first go around of the millennium fever, you have a chance to celebrate 2000 all over again in two years here.  So far I have heard little worry about the "Y2K" bug here.  I think it would be rather ironic if in two years every computer system in Ethiopia were to shut down.  Of course, this would affect the economy very little since most Ethiopians have never heard of a computer let alone seen one.  I'm thinking of starting up a page called "Ethiopians say the darnedest things" and go around asking them what they think the Y2K bug is.  I suspect they would guess a new kind of Malaria.  (I'm not really thinking of starting up a page called "Ethiopians say the darnedest things.")

I have moved into my new home.  It is a concrete house that I share with an Ethiopian couple.  Gemitchu - the husband - works with me at Fayyaa and attends the Nazarene church.  They are extremely nice people and I have been taking my meals with them of late.  When it comes to sanitation I am better off eating at the hotel restaurants in town, but as far as my stomach is concerned I have been doing much better eating the food Annana cooks.  Any meal ordered out will have meat (except on Wednesdays and Fridays).  Most of the meals cooked in, however, do not.  A type of lentil stew poured over engerra seems to be a staple, often with a hard boiled egg cooked in.

I'm sure I've mentioned the mosquitoes but I should do so again.  They are everywhere, all the time.  Sleeping in a mosquito net may look romantic on television, but mostly its just annoying - but necessary.  When I first moved into the house, I fogged my room with a heavy insecticide, and now daily apply a small amount of "off" to some of the walls.  My room is now fairly free from mosquitoes.  This morning when I opened my door to the rest of the house, I was greeted by a swarm.  The small area that joins the living room, the two bedrooms and bathroom was teaming with mosquitoes.  The bathroom was full as well.  Out came the deet charged CVS brand of "off".  Now many of you may have environmental issues with deet.  In times past I have tried to stay away as well.  I should now confess, however, that I am a firm believer.  Deet is a gift from God, and do not attempt to tell me otherwise.  Mosquitoes fall from the sky like the walls of Jericho at the blasts of Joshua.  Almost instantaneously after spraying the areas, the mosquitoes were gone.  You have to give humans credit for something: if there's one thing we're good at, its transforming our environment.  ('Good' of course being a relative term, but aptly applies here.)

(While writing this, some children came to the door.  They work at the 'sook' down the street - a small shop selling various daily items.  The other day I bought a Pepsi from them and told them I would bring the bottle back later.  Apparently I've waited too long and they came to fetch it.)

We leave for church around 9am.  I think service starts at 10.  I don't know if they go early, or if the walk is just that long.  I wouldn't think its 3 miles away, but perhaps it is.  I am excited to attend my first service here.  Most likely I will only go every other Sunday (for various reasons), but as I haven't had a chance to attend anywhere since I came to Ethiopia, today will be a nice change.  I just hope I don't fall asleep; listening to a foreign language I can't understand makes me sleepy.  I have heard their sermons aren't that long (20-40 mins) so if the service goes til noon, there must be a lot of singing and praying.

Anyway thats about it for me.  Hope you enjoy your New Year!

Drive from Limu Shei to Agaro. 

A coffee plantation between Limu Shei and Agaro. 

Driving out of Limu Shei. 

Small market day in Limu Shei. From a coffee house. 

Jimma Bus Station 

From behind a coffee house. (Drive to Jimma) 

Me. (Drive to Jimma) 

Drive to Jimma. 

Traditional huts. (Drive to Jimma) 

Traditional huts. (Drive to Jimma) 

Rural farm plots. The size of a family farm is from hut to hut. (Drive to Jimma) 

Receding lake. (Drive to Jimma) 

Receding lake, fields planted behind. (Drive to Jimma) 

Homes on stilts. (Drive to Jimma) 

Middle class neighborhood in Addis Ababa, taken from Nazarene HQ 

Living In Jimma

(Wednesday, 07 September 2005)
I now live in Jimma, though at this point I'm "living" in a hotel.  We have no yet located a suitable place for me to stay, so tonight will be my 4th night in a row in a hotel.  My first hotel in Jimma was quite nice; it cost me around 15USD, which for Ethiopians is a ridiculous amount of money.  Given that I'm living off the money many of you gave to me, it happens to be a bit more than I can afford on a consistent basis too, so I moved to the Aramaic Hotel.  Not a bad place, except that the outside bar is open until 10:30pm, preventing me from getting any sleep until it shuts down.  Soon I should be in a house, so it is of little matter.

For those of you who didn't hear, I was rather sick since my last post.  Funny, I did fine on Ethiopian food, but the evening we ate at "New York, New York" I ate a hamburger and may never do so again.  We were to leave for Jimma the next day - Saturday - but I was far too weak to make such a trip.  We left Sunday late morning, and I must say, I'm glad we waited.  The trip was spectacular, but would not have been fun on a bad stomach.  The road between Jimma and Addis Ababa is being completely redone, but so far only goes about the first 1/3 of the way.  After that, the road used today is one left by the Italians during their occupation in the 1930's.  Since it was built no discernible maintenance has been done, so the drive consists of dodging potholes that can swallow a car.  Even on the "smooth" sections its like driving down a farm road because water has buckled the road in so many places.  I am going to try and post pictures after posting this email; some of the pictures are taken during the drive.  At one point we passed a lake that exists only during the rainy season.  As it recedes, farmers plant behind it.  As the rainy season ends the lake will be farmland.  Many of the homes are of the round straw hut style.  A few of the small "towns" are so low and wet that their homes are built on stilts, effectively serving as islands during at least a third of the year.

In Jimma the homes are generally mud huts with pole construction, or tin if the family is "well-to-do".  A concrete or brick home is considered very wealthy.  Our offices are fairly nice by these standards; I will also attach some pictures of the Fayyaa compound (if I am able).

About the food: some of it is wonderful, other bits I have to choke down.  The meal I mentioned in the last post is apparently not a daily meal; it is called Weyayinetu, and is the traditional fasting food of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church.  They fast Wednesdays and Fridays, and Weyayinetu is served on these days.  The Muslims and Evangelicals don't follow this practice, so even on these days you may order other dishes if you like.  "Fasting" in this context means "no meat," which is probably why I like it.  Most of the meat is prepared very well, but some things they eat we would not.  For instance, one lamb dish I ordered came with huge pieces of white fat that I simply could not touch.  For them, this is the good stuff - the "white meat."  Likewise, they have a favorite meal called Kitfo, which is basically raw ground beef with some spices.  For the foreigner (forengee) they will cook it about 60 seconds - Kitfo Lublub (hot).  In Addis I had this meal, though in Addis they are a bit more used to foreigners and must have cooked it longer even than lublub.  I ordered Kitfo lublub last night and could barely touch it.  I was eating outside in the dark, which is probably the only reason I was able to put any of it down at all.  Had I seen the color, I suspect it would have gone untouched.  The meal also highlighted another aspect of life here: everyone is out to get the foreigners money.  A typical evening meal here costs about 10 Birr, or a $1.25 - this price is at the nicest restaurants in town.  (In Jimma, that is.  If you eat at the nice western hotels in Addis Ababa you could easily drop 25USD!)  Yesterevening when I payed with a 100 Birr, the waiter brought back 75 Birr.  A 25 Birr meal here is VERY expensive.  I questioned him, and he said that Kitfo is 22 Birr.  I had seen the menu the night before and knew it wasn't 22 Birr.  Kitfo does cost a bit more, but usually 13-15 Birr.  I tried getting the money, but its nearly impossible.  In their minds foreigners should be paying more anyway, and once they have your big bill there's little you can do.

That was yesterevening.  Yesterday I went with one of the field coordinators "into the field."  We traveled far beyond Jimma in areas that are rural even by rural standards.  I went past the area called Kofa, of which some speculate the birthplace of coffee (kofa... coffee).  We ended in Limu Che, a gorgeous rural ethiopian village built at the top of a huge hill/mountain.  The area is lush and green, known for its coffee production.

Some of you may be wondering what exactly it is that I do.  That is, indeed, an excellent question.  I'm not entirely certain yet myself.  There seems to be perhaps three main areas: first, I learn everything I can about the USAID grant.  Most of what goes on around here occurrs at an extremely laid back, unorganized pace.  The necessary exception to this is the USAID grant, for which we must complete western set deadlines, budgets, workplans, etc.  I am supposed to keep up with this grant.  I have already learned that this will be a huge pain.  Everything we do must fit within their predefined categories.  For instance, we are the only group in Ethiopia working with both both Christians and Muslims.  Everyone else deals strictly with Christians.  Thus, the curriculum we use must be different than everyone else (it must be either religiously neutral or have two sets of curriculum).  When filling out the Workplan, their boxes ask about implimentation of Choose Life materials... which we do not use.  We modified their report and made note of our modification, so that our program would be adequately described and organized.  No go.  We received the report back, forced to put our information into their original boxes.

Second, I am to develop additional grant proposals for other aid agencies.  I've never done this, but the fact that I speak english and can type more than 2wpm apparently gives me a considerable edge.  Along with this I will clean up english in various reports, etc.

Third, I am to watch how the organization runs, so that the director of the NGO can leave on occasion.  As it is, he hasn't left for more than a day or two in 4 years.  Once I understand how the NGO runs on a daily basis, he's going to leave for a month long vacation.

Thats about all for me this afternoon.  Hope you are all doing wonderfully.

BUDGET ITEM: For those of you who are sad in your heart of hearts because you didn't get a chance to donate financially, don't worry!  You still have a chance!  Kansas City shows a total of around 8,000USD in donations.  The budget as it currently stands will demand between 10-12,000, depending on various expenses in the following months.  Thanks again to everyone who has helped me both financially and with your prayers and support,

Michael