Chocolate and... soap?

27 Nov 05

In my last full post I finished by remarking I hadn't had a full nights sleep in ages, due to the incessant barking of our mangy dog. I'm not sure if I ever posted a picture of this dog, so I'll add one now. When I first arrived in Jimma, the dog took to me almost instantly. I was a bit surprised, because as anyone who lives in a multi-colored community knows, dogs are inherently racist. I don't fault them, really; it must seem to them as if this pictured negative of a person is rather evil. I wouldn't say the dog and I ever became friends, but I was free to walk within his vicinity without a growl, and even received an occasional wagged tail to my scratching his ears. After I left during the threat of violence, something changed in my relationship with the dog. I don't know if he became angry with me for leaving him for so long, or if he somehow just realized I was white. In any case, we ceased to be friends, and I was no longer allowed to come anywhere near him. I even took the evening meal to him several times in an attempt at reconciliation. His wholesale animosity towards me grew during a time of increased agitation at night. The dog has always been a night barker, but during this period it became such that even the dog's owner - who previously had defended the dog on the grounds that he wanted it to bark at night - decided to get rid of it. At first we just locked the dog out of the compound. Every morning it would wait by the door, always wanting to come back in. For the most part it obviously loved its newfound freedom, but was learning that freedom came at the cost of painful hunger. The director of the NGO heard about our predicament and replied that he was wanting a dog to protect his compound; could he have it? YES! Yes you can have the dog, but only on one condition - you cannot bring it back. So, for the past few nights, I have slept unusually well. However, I never actually saw the director pick up the dog. Yesterday we ate meat in the house for the first time since I've been living with this family - 3 months. I'm not saying for sure we ate dog, but neither do I have any reason to believe otherwise.

Speaking of strange and disturbing foods, I'll mention two more. The first is a type of candy I've purchased here. Branded "Lefu," it seems to be the lowest possible quality Chinese export. Despite that the side of the triangular package reads, "Good Chocolate," this is perhaps the worst tasting thing that has ever entered my mouth. I can best describe its texture as wet cardboard, which closely resembles its taste. I sucked one piece for awhile despite its foul nature, just because I was so intrigued by what it is that I could be tasting. You'll notice in the top corner the label proclaims, "Almonds are coated in Chocolate." The nuts pictured on the bottom look more like hazelnuts than almonds, but in either case nothing crunches in this distasteful perversion of candy. I finally decided the taste was closest to, as I already mentioned, wet cardboard though with the subtlest hints of insecticide.

Contrast this with my shower two days ago. I accidently caught a mouthful of soapy water, and my to my surprise it was delicious. Now I don't know about you, but all of my experience with soap before now has taught me that it should not taste good. If memory serves me correctly, a bar of soap in the mouth was a common punishment in days gone by. So you can imagine the confusion this little revelation has caused me. I'm fairly certain it is soap; it produces suds in the way one would expect a bar of soap to do so, and it smells somewhat like lemon scented liquid dish soap we use in the states. I didn't know how to ask for soap in the supermarket, but I did make the universal shower sign by lifting my left arm and rubbing my arm-pit with my right hand. Granted, its possible the attendant thought I was asking for some kind of monkey snack, but I would think the people I live with would have mentioned to me that I'm bathing with a lemon monkey-bar. I am now curious if Ethiopians add sugar to their soap. If so this would explain why in the television spots asking for money for Ethiopians the children are always covered in flies. If you're curious what I meant about living in the rabbit hole, it's this: soap tastes better than chocolate.

Yesterday I took Gimetchis to the local pool. It has only recently been opened at one of the nicer hotels in Jimma, and costs an extravagant 23birr - 3USD - to swim. Gimetchis had never swam (swum?) before, and I quickly learned that teaching a 31 year old Ethiopian to swim is much harder than I thought it would be. Valiantly though we tried, we never succeeded in keeping him from touching for more than a few paces. I took the approach of walking along side him holding him up with my hands under his stomach as he tried to swim. At one point I felt like he was beginning to get the hang of things and released my hands from under his stomach. I can say with all honesty that I have never seen anything sink faster. I have always been taught that the human body will naturally float, but I am now convinced this is as false a statement as that soap tastes bad. He looked at me the way a child looks at their parent after they've removed their hands from the bike for the first time, resulting in a brief moment of success followed by tragedy when the child realizes the parent is no longer behind them. The only difference in Gimetchis' case is that there was no moment of success. He sank like a stone. Despite this, after coughing up some water he was ready to go again. At the end of the day he seemed to have enjoyed himself immensely and is ready to go again. Good for him.

This evening a representative from the head offices of Send-A-Cow in the UK arrives. We'll have dinner with him and the local representation tonight, and show them a few of our various projects tomorrow. I am hopeful for this project to succeed. If so it could mean a great deal to many families and impoverished people in the area. (I opened the website in the background to grab the URL for the link in this paragraph... apparently the site has various animal sound effects turned on and as I write I am continually hearing the barnyard sounds of cows and pigs.)

Finally, a word of greeting to any Italians showing up on the blog. I've received a link from an Italian blog. If any of you speak Italian, I'd love to know if I'm linked positively or negatively :-) . I will say that if any Italians are heading towards Jimma, let me know. I've made a friend here named Yewaleshet who was considerably disappointed to learn I'm from the states and not from Italy. He made friends with several Italian students (who nicknamed him Johnny) here a few years back and I don't think I'll ever be able to live up. He would be excited to know you're coming.

Peace,

Michael

Ethiopian Hippy

21 Nov 05

I recently came across the song Safe In My Garden by The Mamas and the Papas.  Aside from being a beautiful song crying out for social change against the oppressive force of 'the man', it also made me think about recent events in Ethiopia in terms of a desire for revolution.  The key demographic group in the recent demonstrations is college age young adults.  So much so, in fact, that the first response of the government to a threat of demonstration was to cancel the beginning of the fall university term.  Most of the universities across the country still haven't returned to a regular schedule.  Why?  Because the collection and discussion of so many young (and educated) people in Ethiopia is almost sure to cause demonstration, violent or otherwise (at least, so assumes the government).

I'm not sure exactly what this says about an administration but any conclusion I may be drawing I will keep to myself.  Lets just hope none of the local dissidents get ahold of the recent documentary about the Weather Underground.  Or maybe hope for the opposite, depending on your point of view.

By the way, do any of you know of any 60's/70's era songs written specifically about the WU?

Peace,

Michael

Life in The Rabbit Hole

15 Nov 05

The Wizard of Oz is written in just such a way that the adult reader is immediately convinced that Dorothy has merely had a dream.  When I was a child I was convinced that the adults in Dorothy's life, and perhaps in my own, were unable to see the truth of her journey.  What were they missing?  Lucy's adventures in the rabbit hole are somewhat similar, except that the storyline is left a bit more ambiguous about her waking status.  We know she's sleepy and disoriented, but it is unclear if she wakes into the real world or into the dream.  Dorothy finds herself in a world where things exist that shouldn't - there are monkey's that fly and horses literally of a different color.  Lucy finds herself not in a world where things exist that shouldn't, but in a world where things exist that couldn't.

Yesterday I once again got off the bus from Addis to Jimma.  Throughout the ride I slipped in and out of reality and dream.  I woke at one point with my finger stuck into the back of the man standing in front of me.  I don't know how long it was there, or why my dream world invoked me to poke my finger forward, but what I find amazing about the event is that no one in the "real" world thought it was odd.  The man never turned around despite that my finger was stuck in his back for at least several seconds, and the man sitting next to me didn't seem to find this situation all that interesting.  I'm living in Lucy's world, not Dorothy's.  In Lucy's world people turn when you don't poke them, not the other way around.

The trip was every bit as enjoyable as last time around, prompting me to push for our extra vehicle to be fixed.  We have a Mitsubishi Pajero sitting idle in Shebe, and since the funds don't exist to fix it, it has unofficially become mine.  I'll have it fixed up hopefully in time for the next trip to Addis.

Why was I back in Addis again anyway?  Last post I mentioned the escalation of violence in Addis.  Despite that no violence ever reached Jimma, the mission team decided it wasn't a good idea to leave me "down country."  Mostly I think this has to do with my status as a volunteer, and the extra precautions taken because of it.  In the event of a full scale evacuation, the team wanted me close by so that we could leave together (and not leave a volunteer behind).  Ironically, however, this took me from a rural town a days drive from Addis - and hence the violence - to the violence itself.  Life in the rabbit hole...

In any case, I didn't complain too much.  Sunday the 6th of Nov I jumped on a twin engine prop plane and headed for Addis strapped into my single isle fold down jumpseat.  When I arrived in Addis the missionary family I stay with met me at the airport and we headed to Babo Guiya for a weeks 'vacation'.  The week was very enjoyable, though vacation is bracketed because Dan and I ended up working most of it.  Despite our inclusion of laptops into most of the daily activities, we did take plenty of time to swim and canoe the lake, play games with friends we met at the resort, and climb a mountain complete with horses to get to its base. 

We woke up around 6am on a Thursday and met some locals we had scheduled to bring horses.  Luckily they had two western saddles; we had originally planned on me riding on a blanket.  Dan was convinced we would be back in time for lunch, so we only took a piece of fruit and a liter of water each.  By the time we reached the base of the mountain it was nearly 11am, and it took another half hour to find someone to take care of the horses.  We originally started up the mountain road on the horses but quickly realized they wouldn't be able to make it up, and there would be nowhere to keep them safe from theft in the forest.  We road them back down and negotiated a fee with a local to keep them while we scrambled up the face.  By the time we arrived back at the horses we were exhausted, thirsty, and hungry.  When we rode the horses into the resort at around 6pm to eat dinner I had the wind and sun burnt face, exhausted feeling you can only get on the side of a mountain.

Now I'm back in Jimma (thanks to the fantastic bus system) and working on the Send-A-Cow proposal.  I haven't slept a decent night since returning to Jimma, due to the dog barking constantly through the night.  I have come close to beating the dog to death several times but restrain myself.  I am someone who loves dogs but at this point I really am ready for this dog to die.

As always mention my affections to your sister, until next we can meet.

Michael

Michael and the Millers

Countryside near Debre Zeiyet

On horseback. Peak in background left.

Leaning on the rock...

I call this one the "High School Senior."

Babo Guiya

Hillside of Resort - Babo Guiya

Dan and beast of burden

Dan. Peak flat rock in middle/right.

From midway up mountain.

Dan on peak. Main peak across a valley we didn't know existed... 

Swimming Pools, Ticks, and Vomit on the Bus

(Friday, 04 Nov 05)

Hello again.  Sorry for the delay.  Life in the "Big City" of Addis Ababa wore me out, and gave little time for proper blogspot posts.  But I'm back, and perhaps better than ever.

I left for Addis on October 20, two days before the GRE.  I woke up at 5am to be at the bus station by 5:30, but realized while getting ready that I had forgotten my passport at the office.  Valid ID is required for the GRE, so I hoisted my 30lb pack on my back and began the 20minute walk to the office.  From there I would walk the half hour to the bus station.  Halfway there I realized I left my mobile phone at the house, and quickly decided that it too was necessary given I'd be in Addis for nearly two weeks.  When I arrived at the office compound it was still dark, and the compound guard was asleep in the guard shack.  Not waking at my knock, I threw a stone across the lawn, nailing the shack.  He woke up.  By the time I finally got the passport from the office I was convinced I would be too late at the bus station to get a ticket.  It was now 6am and I am still 30minutes from the station.  The buses leave at 7 but often fill long before then.  Luckily as I walked the first few paces on the road, the "early bus" came by and picked me up.  I ended up arriving in Addis nearly 2hrs before the normal buses.

The husband/father of the family I was to stay with in Addis was out of town on business, so given the culture here it was decided bad form for me to stay in the house.  Their compound includes a few back rooms not directly attached to the house, and one of these has been prepared as a guest bedroom.  Unfortunately they had just painted the room with a fairly naxeous paint, forcing me to find lodging elsewhere.  I ended up at a very nice hotel on the north end of town (they live on the south end) somewhat near the university holding the GRE exam.  The day before the exam I found my way to the test site to make sure I could get there the next morning.  The day finally arrived, and I showed up early.  Stupid American.  As if the test would begin on time anyway.  We started the test a little after 9 (supposed to begin at 830).  During our "ten minute break" they locked up the facilities and everyone disappeared for nearly half an hour.  By the time the test was over my ride had come and gone, having waited an extra hour and half for me to show.  So the test is finally over and behind me, which does little to remove the nervousness it has caused me for so long.  Still have 4 weeks left to find out results, and a fortnight has already passed.

I remained in Addis to attend a training session for the ABC Awareness Campaign Fayyaa is partnered with in an effort to prevent the spread of HIV/AIDS.  The training session was... informative.  I am grateful it was conducted, and believe the two project coordinators from Fayyaa who attended with me were greatly benefited.  I, on the other hand, have a difficulty sitting through training of any sort, especially "informal education."  Now I know informal or non-formal or "adult" education is the vogue these days, but frankly I find it annoying.  Granted, when educating people who left the formal education sector half their life ago or for people who have little or no experience in formal education, the informal setting is perhaps advantageous.  In this sense I don't fault those who use informal education - I just don't want to be a part of it.  The first half day of the training was spent denigrating formal education and promoting the value of informal education.  I suppose in some sense their points have merit, but the truth is that formal education is widespread for a reason: it is by far the most efficient use of time.  After the fifth group discussion and eighth memorization helping game I longed for them to just lecture us and get it over with.  I am convinced the five day training could be shrunk into a half day lecture and a half day practicum.  Oh well.

I did take a break from the training on Thursday to pick up an Ethiopian drivers license.  Thankfully the "utility" member of the district team went with me.  I doubt if I ever would have figured the process out on my own.

On both the Sundays in Addis I attended an english speaking evangelical church.  Felt odd to sit surrounded by white people singing traditional hymns after being the only cracker in site for months.  On Saturday we attended the "bizarre," an open air market aimed at foreigners.  In general the quality of materials are considerably higher, and so the prices.  You can also pick up various items unavailable in local markets, like pre-cut boneless chicken breasts and strawberry jam.  What fascinates one about the monthly market is the shear numbers of white people.  I asked Sherri where they had been hiding all of them.

The Monday before returning to Jimma we took a holiday and spent the day at the nicest resort/hotel in Addis.  We spent the equivalent of about 8USD to swim for the day.  The pool and its environ are beautiful.  I even ordered an americano coffee and had an individual carafe delivered to my lounge.  Can you believe I spent 2.50USD on this little luxury?!  This location, like the bizarre already mentioned, tends to attract the foreigners (who else could pay a months salary to swim?).  All in all I saw more white people - and spent more money - in two days in Addis than in two months in Jimma.

Of course, we may begin seeing less white faces.  Those of you keeping up with Ethiopian news will have noticed Britain is advising no unnecessary travel to Ethiopia, and the US Embassy directs its citizens to carry international id (passport) at all times.  Unrest in the capital continues for the fourth strait day, as opposition members continue to protest what they consider to be fraudulent election results.  Though the death and injured tolls continue to rise, it seems unlikely that anything significant will change anytime soon.  The opposition does not seem to have the numbers necessary to combat the ruling party.  In the last two days nearly 3,000 young people have been jailed on suspicion of unrest. 

In any case you needn't worry about me.  Some violence has spread from the capital into other parts of the country, but not to Jimma.  The people here are openly indifferent to the politics of Addis and the rest of the nation.  For the most part they just want to be left alone and live in peace.  Ironically, neither the ruling party nor the opposition party represent the majority ethnic population of Ethiopia, the Oromoo.  The Oromoo (Jimma included) are cynical about national politics, and fear the rule of the opposition as much - if not more - than the current regime.

I should also add that I am working on a project collaboration with Send-A-Cow.  I am impressed with their philosophy and implimentation policies, and they have returned an interest to partner with Fayyaa in the Jimma Zone of Oromia.  If successful, I will finally feel as though I have contributed something more to the work here than english translation and polished reports.

All of this, however, took place in Addis, including the meeting with Send-A-Cow.  I returned to Jimma on Tuesday, almost simultaneously as violence was breaking out across the capital.  My bus had dried vomit on the floor from the previous trip, and the elderly man sitting next to me smelled as though he had an accident on himself while riding the bus (or maybe before).  The smell was as bad as I could hope to describe.  The man across the aisle from me bought me a lemon to hold to my nose to help with the smell.  Add to this that I think we had the slowest bus in Ethiopia.  We were being passed by logging trucks loaded full.  Not to mention, of course, that we had two flats on the trip.  I left Addis at 530am and didn't arrive to Jimma until after 6pm.

As I took my cold shower the next morning (after two weeks of hot in Addis) and pulled a tick off my leg, I struggled with my attitude about life in Jimma vs. Addis.  But by today I have had a bowl of golden grams drenched in powdered milk and feel a little more "back at home."

Well I believe we are about to be served our afternoon coffee at the office.  Should be going now.

Tell your sister thank you for the cookies - she is ever in my thoughts.

Michael Rodgers