Lost In Ethiopia

Somalia

2007-04-30T08:17:00.000-07:00

This is the best article I've come across for the situation in Somalia:

http://www.asiantribune.com/index.php?q=node/5492

California

2006-08-23T18:52:00.000-07:00

I posted an update several weeks ago, and have only recently realized that it did not make it through. So, to those two or three people wondering where I am, I'm in California. Monday I start a PhD in Philosophy of Religion and Theology at Claremont Graduate School.

I took a few pictures with my phone. Enjoy. (And yes, that's smog.)

Ethiopian English

2006-07-06T22:23:00.000-07:00

Too; a large amount, in contrast to the standard usage of in excess. "That girl is too beautiful," or "I received too many A's on my report card."

Play; say something, talk. Comes from Amharic translation of tajiwot meaning either speak or play. "Play Michael, play."

Class; any kind of room in any location. Comes from classroom. At the hotel: "Do you have any class available tonight?"

Let's move; let's go. "Are you ready to move?"

Fine; good or well. Do not reply "good" when asked if you are "fine". Example: "Are you fine?" "I'm good, thank you." "What? Are you fine?"

Sweet; suit. As in, "I bought a new tailored sweet yesterday." (Easily forgiven... English doesn't make much sense here. Stick an "e" on the end and its back to being sweet.)

Ethiopia on Tap

2006-06-23T04:59:00.000-07:00

23 June 06

I used to have several friends that participated in a weekly discussion called, "Theology on Tap." The idea was to bring together people who were on the fringes of the Christian community but yet were interested in discussing the deeper aspects of theology. The man who brought the group together felt that rather than pushing people away based on one aspect of their lifestyle - they knew how to enjoy a premium malt beverage - he would "meet them where they are."

Whatever one's thoughts on the holiness movements general teetolatarianism, I find beauty in the idea of sharing a common cup, and the unity that it brings between people who drink together. After living in Ethiopia for nine months, last month I began to drink the water - strait from the tap. Those who have read my blog will note that at least on one occasion in the past I've swallowed a healthy mouthful of tap-water, but that was more of a mistake than anything. I now proudly ask for "water" in the restaurants, rather than for "Highland," the common nomenclature for bottled water. The result? I'm healthy, if that matters much. More importantly, though, I should add that the people around me immediately recognize what I have done. The locals are so accustomed to foreigners drinking only bottled water that to see me do otherwise is a shock. I doubt that it instills some idealistic sense of commonality in their minds towards me, but in a small way it does from me towards them. For better or for worse, we drink the same water. I have always had a philosophical hatred of bottled water, but my sense of hypochondria got the better of me for nine months. Can there be anything more insulting than saying to people, "you water isn't good enough for me?"

Alas, my feelings of commonality only go so far. A few days ago I joined a group of Ethiopians on a contract mini-bus to go to the other side of Jimma. There are two types of mini-bus taxis; the one is a daily route and price-fixed. The other is created on demand when a group needs to go in a direction not normally served by the daily route bus. The latter has no fixed price. On this occasion I made the mistake of not negotiating my price beforehand; when I got off the bus the driver asked me for thirty birr. Anger - hot, flush, boiling. I wanted to start screaming and using the various words that the kids have taught me over the past year (the ones evangelicals aren't supposed to say). Thirty birr should be the price for the whole bus, which was to be shared ten ways.

"No," I laughed, keeping my composure. "What is the price?"

"I'm sure - it is thirty."

"No, tell me the price," still smiling but starting to crack.

"Thirty birr."

"What is the price?" - this time directed to the other passengers. They kept quite. What good does it do them to support this thief? It is scenes like this that make me feel thousands of kilometers separate from Ethiopians, even though I am a meter away. It would be wrong to characterize all Ethiopians as willing to steal from foreigners, but this type of treatment happens far too often. Often enough that I am tempted against my own desire to generalize in an unfair way the people I have come to love. To my own question, "Is there anything more insulting than saying 'Your water isn't good enough for me'?" The answer is Yes - taking advantage of the alien, the outsider in your midst.

"Fifteen," someone finally mediated from the back. Fifteen is a ridiculous price. Fifteen is an insult to my intelligence. Fifteen is the mediators attempt to help broker a theft; they will probably get a 'thank-you' bonus. Perhaps their fare will be free. I shake my head, reach for fifteen birr and - pause. I don't want to pay. I want to spit at him, grab my bag, and walk away. Let him be so bold as to try to accost a foreigner on a busy street. I have no doubt that I could have walked away free. I didn't - I threw the money on the seat and walked away. I won't take him to account. He both won and lost that day.

Brief moments of xenophobia aside, I am more at ease now than ever. To think I am leaving in less than a month is as of yet incomprehensible. I know that I am leaving, and am in fact studiously preparing for my exams in August. But the reality of not being here has not yet taken.

It will though.

Michael

2006-06-10T11:29:00.000-07:00

PLNU Pics

Moustache...

All Blogged Out

2006-05-24T00:11:00.000-07:00

23 May 06

The team from Point Loma University has now been here several days. Things seem to be going fairly well, despite a persistent drizzle that makes building a mud home, well... muddy. Anbessu told the group his story tonight. I would love to blog Anbessu's story, but its almost too amazing to put in a blog without coming across as exploitive.

In other news, the Ethiopian government blocked a number of websites through Ethiopian Telecom. I can only post to blogger because of the "email post" function, as I can no longer access any blogspot address or the blogger.com engine itself. In an effort to curb anti-establishment speech in Ethiopia, apparently the government has decided that blocking all blogspot blogs is a smart move. The irrationality of this move simply stuns me. Aside from the moral/ethical issues involved, this is just generally an ill-informed and not well thought out strategy. Oh well, I'm clean; I got my Fayyaa ID back.

To read more about this visit: http://www.meskelsquare.com/archives/2006/05/blog_gone.html

To circumvent the block within Ethiopia visit: http://securebar.secure-tunnel.com/cgi-bin/nph-freebar.cgi/110110A

Haven't heard from your sister in awhile, but perhaps her emails haven't made it past Telecom filters.

Michael

2006-05-19T07:30:00.000-07:00

Yes, I do take pictures of bridges

Sudanese fellowship

Balcony of District Center

Southern Peoples

If I could pull this style off, I would

Yes!

No, it isn't

Which one of these, doesn't belong

So hungry...

I run this church for loggers...

Only one...

Nazarene...

Wonderful...

Ethiopian "Fonzi"

2006-05-19T05:59:00.000-07:00

Some favorite pics...

No problem

2006-05-12T00:08:00.000-07:00

12 May 06

Just after my last post, I picked up Lowell and Robin Adams, who were arriving to teach a one week training seminar on Community Health Evangelism (CHE), from Bole airport. (An aside: at one point early in the week Lowell said, "I really do believe Che was a gift from God." I burst out laughing and told him I couldn't agree more. Leftist "reds" like myself will get this - others disregard.) They served in Ethiopia for a short time as missionaries, and we quickly began to chat about life in Addis Ababa and in Ethiopia in general. To get from Bole to our destination, the new "ring road" is by far the quickest and easiest route, and I started to brag on the new road and its efficiency. "There's never any traffic on the ring road!" Just as I pulled onto the highway, however, we came to an immediate stop. For the next 30 minutes we moved maybe 15 meters, and I kept saying things like, "I've never seen anything like this on this road."

Finally we reached the problem. The federal and city police had set up a road block and were checking each vehicle that passed through, one by one. My heart sunk; I didn't know where my license was. As the soldier approached my window, I smiled and asked what he needed. Of course, he asked for my license, to which I responded I couldn't find it, and that I thought maybe I left it in Jimma. "Big mistake," he answered. "Oh, I agree it is a big mistake - but I do have a license so its really not a problem." "No, big mistake. You, me, this car - prison." Don't get me wrong, under the right circumstances I think it would be fun to drive to the prison with my new soldier friend, probably driving in circles for awhile as he attempts to get a bribe, and finally showing up at the prison/police station a few hours later to pay the fine. Hey, in the best case scenario, I might even get held in a cell for a few hours while they call someone to come sign for me. In this case, however, I had two guests to the field in the car and didn't much like the idea of an armed soldier getting into the vehicle to drive us to prison. I asked the officer to get someone else. He said no, he is getting in the vehicle, and we are going to prison. I told him I wasn't allowed to let anyone in the car. That seemed to confuse him a bit (and rightfully so), but it delayed him so I guess it worked out alright.

He directed me to drive to the traffic circle and come back in the opposite direction, where he would get in the car. I swung around but apparently pulled into the wrong section of the highway, and he began to berate me to pull the car onto the access road. At this point, however, there was a concrete median between me and the road, and the next open section was 3km or so away. "How can I drive over there?" "Just drive over there!" "How can I drive over there?" "Just drive over there! Don't you understand me?" "No, I don't understand you. How can I drive over there?" "It's no problem! Just drive over there!" Of course I understand the officer perfectly but am looking frantically for a way to get out of this. Did he just say no problem? I ask myself. "No problem?" this time out loud. "No problem!" I hit the gas and never looked back. "You heard him say no problem, right?" "Yeah, he definitely said 'No problem,'" Lowell laughs.

As I'm falling asleep that night, I start to think there might be a problem. I get out of bed and began to look for my Fayyaa ID card, and quickly realize its gone. During the nights events I handed the officer a copy of my passport and my ID card. He handed the passport copy back to me and my mind took that to be both documents. Personally, I would have just let the issue go, but Anbessu, the director of Fayyaa, was adamant that we get the card back. Fayyaa works closely with the government and has an excellent relationship, and Anbessu also had the worry that the police might show up in Jimma some day to pick me up. Yesterday we went to the police station and picked up the ID card. Ironically, I had to give them my license to get the ID. Today I'll go to another office to pay my fine (about $7), then show the payment receipt to the previous office to pick up the license. So, I'm back to driving without a license. Oh well.

Since then, I've hosted both the Adams and some folks from California interested in both CHE and water well drilling. In the last two weeks I've been to Awasa, Agre Salem, Arba Minch, Jinka, Salem Ber, and a host of towns and villages in and around these. I spent my birthday in a small village outside of Jinka. Glance at a map sometime - Jinka is considered the "last city in Ethiopia," and feels like an outpost of civilization. We drove through the Great Rift Valley to get there, and it would have to be one of the most desolate and harsh places I've ever seen people actually living in (except Las Vegas, but thats a bit different).

After visiting these places, there is no question (if there ever was before) that water is a significant problem throughout Ethiopia, and not only in the most publicized places such as the Kenyan border zone and the Somali zone. At this point we are trying to combine a Community Health approach with water solutions, and ideally with water solutions that can be undertaken by the community itself. In some cases the only solution is to bring in a large, expensive drilling machine. Whenever possible, however, we are trying to teach our churches that they can solve the majority of their problems, and in many cases even their water problems. How best to integrate a massive deep water project is still in discussion, but however it is done, it cannot be done at the expense of the sustainability of the local community and congregation.

Why your sister thought I would like pink doilies I'll never know, but thank her for them all the same.

Michael

Purified Water?

2006-04-18T23:08:00.000-07:00

18 April 2006

Well folks, I've been swamped. Tomorrow may be a relative free day for me, what will be the first in some time - including the weekends. Last week I taught Doctrine of Holiness from Monday to Friday for some students pursuing ordination, and on Saturday I taught the second of four seminars on Science and Religion. I enjoyed the process, but teaching from 8am to 5pm six days strait was tiring to say the least. As soon as I finished teaching on Saturday I jumped on a local bus to meet the rest of the team at a conference center about an hour and half away. As the bus was pulling out of the station, I remembered I promised someone to pick up several newspapers on my way out of town. I noticed a vendor walking along the bus windows selling papers and waived him over.

Now I've never purchased a newspaper in Addis, for the obvious reason that I can't read the language. Sure, you can find papers written in english, but in this case I was looking for Amharic papers and didn't have any other options anyway. Because I've never purchased an Amharic paper, I had no idea how much they should cost. I asked through the window, "Cint eh noew?" and received an answer that I somehow interpreted as "15." Given that I was asking for three papers, I calculated that they must be 5 birr - $.55 - each and began to rummage for the birr. I only found 13, but because the bus was pulling away I stuck the money out the window and tried to grab two papers so I wouldn't be stealing from my newsy. He insisted I take three with a quite confused look on his face. Had I been standing next to him with a bit of time on my hands, I am certain that I would have realized 5 birr is an outrageous fee for a newspaper in Ethiopia. A combination of my exhaustion and the fact that the bus was pulling away from the vendor as I was talking to him threw me, however, and I missed out on the correct price. I am fairly confident the price should have been 1.5 birr per paper, or a total of 4.5 birr. 1.5 to 15... so my Amharic is off by a factor of ten, big deal.

Because of my teaching schedule, I slept in a hotel next to the field office all of last week. I've stayed at this hotel a half dozen times now, often for extended stays. When I arrive I'm greeted with shouts of "Mikiel!" and various greetings asking me how I'm doing. I've taken to ordering room service for dinner, since the price is the same and it keeps me from being stared at in the restaurant. Friday night I ordered a 1.5L bottle of water with my dinner, as I often do, so that I can keep the bottle the next day as I teach or do whatever it is that I'm want to do. By mid-Saturday morning (Saturday mid-morning?) I had gone through about half the bottle when I began to fidget with the cap as I taught. I noticed that the little perforated band at the bottom of the white cap had come off with the cap instead of staying on the bottle. Thinking this odd, I glanced down at the bottle and saw that another band - a blue one - remained on the bottle. I stopped teaching in mid-sentence and began to laugh. When I explained the situation to the class their eyes got big. "You got a refill!" I've heard of this practice going around Ethiopia but have had no experience with it before this. Whoever did the forgery took their time; I distinctly remembered pulling off the clear outer seal the night before. So, did the hotel sell me tap water? I'm confident they didn't mean to. I described my relationship with them above to highlight that I'm a reliable customer, well known, and tip - something Ethiopians generally don't do. All told, they wouldn't risk my business with something like this. I suspect some kid is making money on the side by putting forgeries in his delivery shipments. Oh well. So far I'm not sick... maybe I'll just start drinking the tap water anyway.

After the busyness of last week, I started working on a food and seed distribution program to areas of the Horn hit by the current drought and famine. I'm exhausted, but as of today the proposal is submitted and we have a guaranteed approval for the first phase of the proposal despite that the proposal itself won't be fully processed for nearly a month. This is the kind of proposal that makes me excited to be a part of the church. In the areas that we will be working, there truly is no other response, and from all reports there is no other organization capable of making a response due to security issues. If the full proposal goes through I'll be doing another round of traveling to make sure reports get written and submitted, although unfortunately I'm not allowed to enter the areas themselves for safety reasons...

The next two months are going to be non-stop, but I'll try to give updates as I can. In the first week of May I'm hosting an exploratory team to investigate sites for drilling deep water wells. This will be one of the biggest projects NCM - HoA has ever participated in and I'm excited about the possibilities. Access to potable water is a major concern in southern Ethiopia and we are on the verge of a significant contribution in this area.

Tell your sister I prefer nutmeg to cinnamon,

Michael

What's Next?

2006-04-13T05:59:00.000-07:00

I'm rather late for a full report on whats gone on here in the last few weeks, but I did want to give an update on whats next for me. Today I accepted a fellowship offer at Claremont Graduate School to pursue a PhD in Philosophy of Religion and Theology. Those of you familiar with DZ Phillips will understand my excitement in the decision. I'm asking that Phillips be my adviser and based on our emails this seems as though it will be the case. Those of you not familiar with DZ Phillips will understand my excitement to live in SoCal.

I'll post more about life in a day or two.

Michael

2006-03-26T07:11:00.000-08:00

19 March Cooking dinner, Gich Camp

20 March Dan & Hannah, Gich Camp

21 March Baboon, Chenek Camp

22 March Heading to Ambiko

22 March From Bwahit Pass, Small trading camp

22 March Summit of Bwahit Pass

23 March Summit of Ras Dejen (Ras Dashen)

23 March Michael & Gitachew (Guide)

19 March Trek to Gich Camp

Hannah purifying water

21 March Wild Ibex near Chenek Camp

22 March Cooking at Ambiko Camp

23 March Preparing to leave Ambiko

If They Say "YOU!" One More Time...

2006-03-15T05:01:00.000-08:00

15 March 06

In an email, Sandee Townley mentioned that reading my blog, she is sure that I must be developing the gift of patience. Outwardly this is more or less true, though I must confess often my patience is shown its limits. A few recent examples. Last week Anbessu left and took the Land Cruiser with him (at least, so I thought... it turns out the Land Cruiser has been in Jimma all week being "painted" though I don't think they have started yet). This left us with only the old, beat up Hilux for transportation. Alemu needed to go into the field to deliver some papers to various government and school officials. Just as Anbessu was about to get on the plane, he called me from Addis and said, "Don't let Alemu drive. Our insurance has lapsed and he only has a Class 2 license. If he needs to go out you must drive him." First of all, the logic of this request makes absolutely no sense. I also only have a class 2 license, but the license class is irrelevant for insurance purposes. Moreover, if there's going to be an accident, we are much better served by having an Ethiopian as the driver and not a white foreigner. A white foreigner involved in an accident without insurance will end up paying thousands of birr, if not dollars. In any case, I drove Alemu as requested. This involved driving to remote, hillside villages throughout Jimma zone. I was stared at and called to a few thousand times before I finally thought we were finished. "One more school," he requests. As we drive up, I know I'm in for a zoo. In this case, however, I am the animal. School had just let out, and a few thousand children were milling around the school yard. As I parked in the shade of a tree to wait for Alemu to deliver his papers, the mob surrounded the truck.

"Name, my is what... what name is my... what are my names," they struggle to ask me. Finally one gets it right, "You! What is your name," and the murmur begins as they realize the right sequence. "What (what what) is your name?"

"Michael," I respond.

"What is your name! What is your name! What is your name!"

"My name is Michael," I reply, wondering if they are deaf due to the ridiculously loud level they play their stereos.

"Michael! Michael!," they call, "What is your name?"

At this point I'm just laughing, realizing this is their only English phrase, and they are going to repeat it ad naseum whether they know my name or not. If I wanted to get out of the truck and follow Alemu, this option is now gone as I would have to punch my way through a few hundred kids if I opened my door. The teachers decide to take up my cause, and begin "switching" the kids closest to the truck, beating back a perimeter. When the backs turn, the rush to the truck continues. Again the teachers push the wave back, simulating a rapid tidal force. Alemu charges through the crowd, jumps in the truck, and as I pop the clutch to get out of dodge the throng follows closely at our rear.

I've also recently purchased a road bike to replace the hulking monstrosity I inherited from a previous missionary. Finally getting back into road biking has been a wonderful outlet for me, but it does draw considerable attention my way. However, he attention I receive on the bike I tend to actually enjoy. When I ride in the countryside its like I'm riding the Tour de France. Locals cheer me on, give me thumbs up, and try to run next to me for a few hundred feet. Most foreigners who come to Ethiopia speed through the small towns in air conditioned Land Cruisers. When I arrive on a bike the locals are ecstatic that I would travel in such a way through their country. This is similar to the reception I receive when riding the bus, except that long distance sports (running and cycling) are highly valued in Ethiopia. When I ride my bike in Jimma, though, the attention gets old in a hurry. In the countryside the attention directed my way is spread out. In Jimma its far too compact. A few days ago I was riding with a friend to the marcato, the densest part of the city. Shouts of You! came from all directions. From atop a large truck to my right, three guys were screaming YOU! at the top of their lungs. For the first (and hopefully only) time in Ethiopia, I lost my temper. I doubt they even realized it, but I responded by turning and yelling WHAT?! back to them. One of them stuck out his hand and said, "How are you?" I smiled regaining myself, shook his hand, and said, "I am fine thank you." They say there is a culture shift at the six month mark in a foreign country. I can't remember if this one is supposed to be a good shift or a bad shift, but perhaps my response to them was caused in part by this "sixth-month change."

Overall the last few weeks have been pretty laid back for me. Next week I'm going to take a break and go backpacking with Dan and Hannah in the Simiens, what should be a beautiful trip. One thing I want to blog about sometime soon is the different way that money is viewed culturally here, and the way that international NGO's exacerbate common problems. That, however, is for another time. I've finally - and mysteriously - finally gotten the picture function to work again. I'll post a few more before I disappear for a couple of weeks in the north.

2006-03-13T10:08:00.000-08:00

Are you happy?

Sunset from my balcony in Lalibela.

I'm glad we didn't get lost...

Lake Tana, reed boat just past the island.

Mom and Dad, Lake Tana behind.

Future so bright...

One of the rock churches of Lalibela.

Mom in Lalibela.

13th Century Ethiopian Art.

Do not insult the umbrellas.

2006-03-13T08:01:00.000-08:00

Choir at SW Ethiopia District Assembly

Tadesse, Assistant District Superintendent, at SW Ethiopia District Assembly

SW Ethiopia District Assembly Attendees

Alemu pretending to be a pop-star (he can't play guitar)

District Assembly Food Line

I had to pose behind the podium. Like an imperialist fool I am raising the wrong fist.

2006-03-13T07:40:00.000-08:00

AIDS Day Crowd

AIDS Day Crowd

Anbessu speaking at AIDS Day

Ethiopian Federal President speaking at AIDS Day

Stuck in Addis

2006-02-28T07:28:00.000-08:00

28 Feb 06

I live in Jimma. Really, I do. Granted I may not be there now, or the last five times that I've posted to my blog, but I really do, at least occasionally, live in Jimma. This weekend I came to Addis to teach a class for the field ordination program. I'm teaching "Science and Religion" on four Saturdays from 8am to 5pm. The plan was to head back on Monday. I came to Addis by bus but reserved a return flight in advance for Monday morning. By the time I reached Addis, I had already spoken with the NGO director several times, and of course had received additional projects. In one of the conversations I was instructed to attend a meeting with a partner organization on Tuesday afternoon (now). I arrived at their offices at 1:30pm, just in time for the meeting, only to find out that the meeting is actually tomorrow. So, not only do I get to stay in Addis an additional day, but I'll miss my flight. Luckily (?) Dan is driving to Jimma on Friday so I'll now be driving with him. Or so we hope. His car is supposedly coming out of the shop this afternoon, but you never really can tell.

Teaching the class was fun, and certainly a different experience than I'll ever have teaching in the states. I am teaching a make-up class for some of the district licensed pastors who are closest to reaching program completion. Because its not part of the regular rotation, I only have four students, one of whom missed on Saturday for family reasons. That left only three, one of whom speaks only passable English. The class is fairly heady stuff to begin with without adding in the complication of language, but I was quite happy with the results after the first session. They are all intelligent and eager to learn, and I expect that I'd be lucky to get three interested students from a class of twenty in the states anyway.

A few questions and requests:

1) My grandmother has my entire family on my mom's side frantically searching for a song written pre-prohibition encouraging people to vote for prohibition. Apparently it has something to do with yelling KERPLUNK and stomping one's foot. If anyone has information about this song, I am sure my family would appreciate.

2) I read something in the manual (of the Church of the Nazarene) the other day that I am curious about, and wondering if any of you Nazarene historians lurking on the blog can help me figure out. There is a line in the manual that states (paraphrased closely), "In world areas where it may cause inter-faith difficulties, regular bread may be substituted for unleavened." I can't make sense of this. I know of no-where in the world where any other faith would care that the Christians were eating unleavened bread. The only thing I can imagine is that in some parts of the world the Christians have a problem eating unleavened bread because they feel that's "Jewish." If this is the rational behind the manual insertion, then in effect the Nazarene Church is supporting anti-Semitism. I can only assume this isn't the case, which is why I want anyone who knows why to explain to me the inclusion of this line.

3) Finally and most importantly, I am trying to help Fayyaa raise funds to purchase a Land Cruiser. We have already raised 25,000 of 30,000 USD but are still 5,000 USD short. As you'll remember, Fayyaa is an NCM partner organization working on AIDS relief and prevention. For details on the project and this particular need please email me. This would be a great help to us. I'd love to see a congregation or two pick this up as a missions project, or for an individual donor to contribute any amount you are willing. In any case please continue to remember Ethiopia in your prayers.

Tell your sister I said the minstrel is in the show. She'll know what I mean.

Michael

Random Thoughts, Clarifications, and Greetings

2006-02-14T22:18:00.000-08:00

15 February 06

First, Greetings to RCN friends who are seeing the blog for the first time. I thought I had given the blog address to you when I first arrived, but it sounds like I must have forgotten. I could not be here without the support of RCN as well as other churches, family and friends. Please stay in touch.

Also, Sandy mentioned she's worried about me being robbed so much. I should point out that when I mentioned in a previous post that I have "been robbed 4 times now," I only meant that one of those thefts was in Ethiopia. One happened in France and was done, we can only guess, when we left our bag on the beach to swim (we swam, the bag on the beach stayed there). I've had my vehicle broken into twice (both on college campuses in the states), making a total of four. This is the only case of being robbed to my face.

I'll post a more lengthy weekly/monthly summary sometime soon. Not too much to report of late. I have an offer from one of the schools I applied to for PhD work but haven't heard from most of the programs yet. When I decide where I'm going I'll let you know.

Michael

Audit & AIDS Day & Audit

2006-01-30T00:14:00.000-08:00

29 January 2006

The last post was "Whirlwind Tour," and little seems to have changed. Since
last, I have traveled again to Bahir Dar, conducted an audit, traveled to Addis,
traveled to Jimma, traveled to Aggaro for an AIDS Day, traveled to Jimma,
traveled to Addis, traveled to Jimma, traveled to Mizan Teferi, conducted an
audit, and finally back to Jimma. I will be here all of a day and a half before
traveling to Addis for training on something or other from FHI.

The first audit in Bahir Dar was so extraordinarily bad that my job was easy.
During the past year the records were stolen twice by deserting District
Treasurer's, and the District Budget Allocation was stolen once by the second
AWOL treasurer. They records they did have were generally incomplete,
illegible, and rarely corresponded in any meaningful way with Field records.
This doesn't reflect poorly on anyone currently active in the District, since
none of them had anything to do with the record keeping, nor (hopefully) with
the theft. In any case the audit was fairly straightforward: "nothing
reconciles and no records are available to balance." Basically we hit the reset
button on the district balance and have (again, hopefully) taught them how to
keep records this year.

This trip was my second to Bahir Dar, following the trip with my parents the
week before. The first time around I couldn't enjoy the city for the general
level of attention and distraction afforded three white tourists walking around
the city without a local escort. During the latter trip I was with Ethiopians
and was for the most part ignored by the town's population of beggar's and "tour
guides." I also had the opportunity to visit one of the many island
monasteries. The monastery was built in 1313 and has been inhabited by monks to
date. I spent a considerable amount of time talking with one monk in particular
who moved to the island 30 some odd years ago. He speaks impeccable english and
is obviously well educated; he told me he worked for the government of Hailie
Selassie before suffering severe injuries in an automobile accident. While
incapacitated in the hospital, he told God that if he was to be healed, he would
move to a monastery and serve the rest of his life there. He has not left the
island since. This man has lived on a secluded island monastery through two
hostile regime changes, including the "marxist" regime of Mengistu Mariam and
the "democratic" regime governance of Meles Zenawi. Strikingly, he asked one of
the elderly churchmen of our party to pray for him when we were preparing to
leave. For my stay in Ethiopia, this has been a singular event of reciprocity
between evangelical and orthodox. By no means does his action reflect a policy
of either group, but it was a spectacular moment for me. I am continually
trying to encourage the Orthodox and Evangelicals to consider one another as
Christian brothers and sisters, but the overwhelming tendency on either side is
to consider the other a perversion of the "true" faith.

Other than having a friends laptop stolen from his hotel room while we were
having breakfast, the trip was basically a success, after which we woke up at
3:30am to travel back to Addis. A bridge midway closes for construction between
10am and 2pm, and to be there before 10am you must leave Bahir Dar by 4am.
After a brief nights sleep in Addis I drove to Jimma with several guests for the
upcoming AIDS Day. Some of you may know that the international AIDS Day was
sometime back in December. We originally scheduled our event to coincide with
the international day, but because of political instability we were forced to
reschedule. No one is sure how, but Anbessu (the Director of Fayyaa) convinced
both the Federal President of Ethiopia and the Regional President of Oromia to
attend the event. The event was magnificent, and a rough guess of attendance
would be in the vicinity of 30,000. I haven't seen it, but I am told I appeared
twice on Ethiopia Television (ETV - the only public TV station) news broadcast,
and my interview is scheduled to appear in a longer profile on Fayyaa and the
AIDS Day to be aired sometime this week. Dan thinks this is an excellent
example of the denominations encouragement for NIVS to keep a low profile. I'm
also fairly certain that the Director of the Oromia HIV/AIDS Prevention and
Control Organization (OHAPCO) whom I met at the event thinks that I am somehow
affiliated with a giant donor organization, as he seemed overly enthusiastic
about making my acquaintance and inviting me to visit his office next time I'm
in Addis. I didn't have the heart to tell him I'm a volunteer.

An interesting aside: on the morning of the AIDS Day I called Anbessu to ask him
if I needed to take anyone else with me from Jimma to Aggaro. He asked that I
stop at Central Hotel were the government officials were staying and just wait
for them to leave. If anyone needed a ride I'd be there with extra room.
Apparently Anbessu never mentioned this to any of the officials, and after
arriving at Central Hotel I sat with the guest from FHI for about an hour and
half while we waited on the President to finish breakfast. When they were ready
a caravan of maybe 12 new Toyota Land Cruisers followed by 3 flatbed trucks with
soldiers left for Aggaro. During this time no one ever spoke to me or asked for
a ride, so I fired up the truck and followed the convoy. Before we left,
several groups of soldiers went ahead to close and secure the road for the
President's safety. After following at the back of the group behind the
soldiers for 10km or so the soldiers began to wave us away. I ignored them,
knowing that I of course belonged with the group (I had, in fact, written the
letter of invitation to the President's office). After a km of waving, they
radioed to a group of elite soldiers (blue uniforms) who dropped back and drove
beside me with angry faces and AK-47's ready (I actually have no idea what kind
of guns they use). They swerved behind me and tailed me for a few km's, came
alongside again, waved me off, and finally sped off to rejoin the other
soldiers. During this time no gun was ever actually pointed at me, which I
took as a sign that they couldn't really want me to go away. At some point
one of the vehicles in the convoy had to stop to add water. I pulled up to
wait, and someone must have realized that I really was part of the assembly.
After that stop I drove in style, safely inside the perimeter of soldiers.

The day after AIDS Day I drove back to Addis, again slept briefly, and woke up
at 4:30am to drive back to Jimma. Typical for Ethiopia, we made the 7hr trip
with 7 people in a vehicle that is tolerable with 5. I was dropped off in Jimma
to spend the night in my own bed and to meet with the district treasurer to
complete the SW District audit. Unlike Bahir Dar, SW Ethiopia District had near
perfect records, and the treasurer seemed genuinely troubled when I discovered a
10 birr ($1) transcription error that didn't affect the overall records in any
way. The difference between the two audits was striking, and I am told by the
assistant field director that this was the most positive audit of any district
yet in the Horn of Africa. The morning after the audit we were scheduled to
drive to Mizan Teferi for the assembly, but due to legal proceedings we couldn't
leave until around 3pm. This put us in Mizan around 9pm.

We stumbled into our hotel and were guided to our rooms. Mine was the only room
on the top floor of the hotel, which basically amounted to the roof. Mizan
suffers from a general water shortage meaning none of the rooms had fully
functioning bathrooms, but my room didn't offer anything by way of toilet
accommodations. I couldn't even find a public bathroom in the hotel, leaving me
with an empty water bottle in the corner. The several layers of linoleum
flooring were cracked and peeling, often revealing the concrete floor underneath
and providing ample opportunities for the various species of insects and
arachnids to move in and out of their dark abodes. Three empty glass bottles
were tossed in a corner. Open plumbing dominated another corner, I can only
guess as the interrupted attempts to provide toiletries. The cracked, faded
blue paint crumbled from the wall, especially in the far corner from the bed
which is apparently a water runnel in the wet season. I sat on the foam
mattress with that disquieting feeling one gets when they've sat too hastily on
a couch long past its prime, sinking farther than they ever thought possible.
Not to worry of course, I still had firm support for my back; by the time I
stopped sinking I was rooted firmly on the plywood base (at least, in the parts
of the bed covered by the plywood). On top of this, Mizan is oppressively hot
and doesn't seem to cool much at night. I slept without a sheet and with the
window wide open, hoping to catch even the faint whisperings of a breeze. My
sweat would have kept me up if I had ever to fall asleep. It seems the best
time to grind coffee in Mizan is 1am. "Grinding" coffee in Ethiopia consists
not in the speedy whirring of a machine, but in the slow pounding of stone
against stone. A friend on the floor below (the one whose laptop was stolen in
Bahir Dar) told me he actually got up to answer his door after the first half
hour, ready to shout "WHAT?" to who-ever it was that just wouldn't give up
waking him. At 6am the next morning someone did bang on my door, raising me
from the first full hour of sleep I had all night. Of course who ever was
banging on the door didn't speak a word of english and clearly wasn't looking
for me - unless to rob - so I didn't answer the door. To summarize, had I been
to Mizan to see Mizan, the trip would have been an abysmal disappointment.

Nevertheless the trip was remarkable for the district assembly. This was my
first experience with a large, vibrant Nazarene (or any other) worship service
in Ethiopia. The Jimma church is the largest of any "urban" community we have
and can be quite interesting at times, but is tiny compared to the throngs of
people packed into an old qabele "town" hall, screaming praise choruses at the
top of their lungs. I am certain I will be deaf when I leave Ethiopia. During
the assembly we also incorporated a small indigenous denomination into the
Church of the Nazarene. Through an apparent hodge-podge of theology, these
loosely Lutheran affiliated churches joined a Wesleyan-Holiness denomination.
How ironic. If either spins in their grave I would assume it to be Luther.

In any event I'm now back in Jimma enjoying a few hours of down time lying on my
bed, writing emails and listening to Hank Williams (courtesy Nana Guillot). In
a few days I'll be back in a hotel somewhere in Addis so I'll enjoy my room
while I can.

Until next time, apologize to your sister for my negligence. I'll write her soon.

Michael

Whirlwind Tour

2006-01-16T05:10:00.000-08:00

16 Jan 06

My parents have now safely arrived and resumed normal life after spending two weeks with me in Ethiopia. After a brief respite on MLK day they'll have to return to the daily grind. (Actually, mom has to work on MLK day. Sadly my Alma Matter, Southern Nazarene University, continues its RACIST practice of beginning school each spring semester on MLK day. I encourage any current students or faculty to simply boycott class on this day. Don't even hand out syllabii - just don't show up.) I am sad to see them go, but it was wonderful to have them here. The following is loosely revised from my written journal during their trip here.

03 Jan 06

After considerable confusion and discussion, I have rented a Land Cruiser from a man named Bantomlick (Banty). During the process I alternated between being tired and extremely frustrated, or both. The man I originally rented from changed the agreement on the last day and informed me we could not have the car without a driver. I contacted a friend of mine, who assured me he could find someone willing to rent to me without driver. After calling about 30 people, and having two agree and then change their mind within 30 minutes, we ended with no vehicle or driver. I had to pick my parents up at 7pm at the airport, so at 6pm I told my friend to just get me a vehicle, driver or not. Through the confusion of the itinerary, etc, we ended up with a much older Land Cruiser, a cranky driver, and no air conditioning. When the driver picked me up the Land Cruiser had 4 ethiopians already in it, leaving barely enough room for me, let alone my parents. During the drive to the airport there were heated debates between the ethiopians regarding the fact that they had to go to the airport at all. Aparently my contact person didn't work this into the agreement. At several points the driver pulled over and refused to drive at all. I sat through all of this in silence, too tired and sick (I contracted tonselitis during all this) to participate in the fight. When we arrived at the airport I made my only demand - that none of the argument continue in front of my parents. Now my parents have arrived and we are sleeping at the Miller's. Tomorrow we'll drive to Jimma, hopefully with a more workable driver.

08 Jan 06

Driver issues ended up working out. The owner of the Land Cruiser showed up as the driver the next morning, giving us a fresh start. His english is decent, and he has bent over backwords to help us and make our trip go well. I think I still would prefer to not have a driver, but having one has had significant advantages.

Arrived in Lalibela today around 5pm. Staying at the Jerusalem hotel with prices far above normal Ethiopian rates. The view, however, makes the rate well worth it, and the rooms were a nice contrast to the room we had in our overnight stop in Dessie. Mom thinks the room in Dessie is the worst she's ever stayed in. I didn't think it was that bad so if you want details maybe she'll post them in the comments. (I can't get pictures to upload right now, but hopefully in the future you'll see the pictures from our balcony here. In the states I can't imagine how much you'd pay for a room with this view.) The drive was similarly gorgeous, though an air conditioned vehicle would have made a huge difference. The weather was actually rather cool, but to keep the inside from boiling you had to have windows rolled down. The roads are mainly dirt, and given the general lack of rain during this season, produce huge clouds of dust in the wake of passing vehicles. We are all coughing and sneezing from dust and coal fires.

Also during the drive our driver became sick, ostensibly from the yellow pastry/cake he had for breakfast. He stopped several times to, er, return the cake to the world, and ultimately had to ask me to drive. Ironic, eh? Driving was fun, but I admit rather taxing, and I'm glad I don't have to do it eight or ten hours a day. Upon arriving in Lalibela Banty also helped us hire a guide. Aparently this turned out for the best as well, as another couple touring the churches seemed to get rather angry at their guide when they found out how much less we payed ours.

09 Jan 06

Toured the first half of churches this morning. The guide broke the churches into three groups. The first symbolize the earthly Jerusalem, the second Noah's Ark, and the third the heavenly Jerusalem. The first group includes the largest two churches, and are supposedly the most impressive. Because they are protected by UNESCO scaffolding and awning, however, their full grandeur is somewhat lost. As such, I found the second group by far the most impressive.

At the church of St. Michael I received blessing from the priest and kissed the cross of St. Lalibela. I tried to appropriately cross myself afterwords but I'm fairly certain I did it wrong. I think this was the only time I saw a high priest smile. In another church I didn't pull out my camera to take a picture of the cross, and the priest seemed surprised. To oblige him I took a picture, realizing the expectations the priests have. Our guide told us the priests are addicted to pictures. All of the priests wear sunglasses inside the dark churches. I have no idea what the reason is for this but I do enjoy the look it gives them, dressed in traditional Ethiopian Ortodox robes holding 800 year old crosses, wearing modern 5 dollar sunglasses.

To reach the various churches we've had to do quite a bit of walking on old, steep cobblestone paths laid by the Italians. This has slowed my parents down a bit, which is understandable given my new gps shows the elevation to be 7900'. I'm now sitting on the balcony of my hotel room, enjoying one of the most spectacular views I could hope for. Children yell hello to me from the dusty road below. Women are gridning grain and coffee. Eucalyptus trees rustle and bend in the wind. Tomorrow we will move on to Bahir Dar but I could stay here a very long time.

10 Jan 06

Arrived in Bahir Dar around 3pm. staying at the Dib Anbessa, a beautiful hotel overlooking the lake. After lunch yesterday we finished the tour of Lalibela churches by visiting the set symbolizing the heavenly Jerusalem. During this final set of churches we visited "hell", a 75 meter tunnel connecting two of the churchs. No lights, no hand rails, low ceiling. I walked mom through extremely slowly. Aparently there is a network of tunnels connecting the churches, but most are now closed for security and safety reasons.

After arriving at the hotel today we spent a short amount of time walking the streets. We fairly quickly withdrew back to the hotel, as every time we tried to move out we were surrounded by beggars or people trying to sell various things to us. I am more used to this than my parents, but even for me it is extremely tiring and Bahir Dar was worse than normal. Everywhere we go we are seen as sources of money. I have come to terms with being stared at or called to; occassionally a child will grab my hand to walk with me for some distance, content to just be near me. Most of the time, however, I am more likely to be nearly assaulted for money. It isn't as bad in Jimma anymore since people are used to my presence, but in other areas the feeling is intense. Here [in Bahir Dar] it is impossible to walk without a beggar following on one side, a child following behind trying to sell tissue, and a group of young "tour guides" on the other trying to hire out their services. I have been told by others who want to justify this behavior that "this is just a different culture - its acceptable here." Frankly, this isn't true. Begging is excepted, but the constant barrage and solicitation towards foreigners would never be tolerated by a local. Foreigners are targeted because they are greater sources of wealth. This is something I will continue to struggle with; I want to be sensitive to the obvious wealth disparity and find a way to better the plight of others (I did sell everything and move to Ethiopia), but the targeting of white tourists or ex-patriats will do nothing to help the long term economic situation in Ethiopia, and can only harm it.

13 Jan 06

Friday the 13th. Did some shopping with Sheri Miller today and parents picked up their last few souvenier items. Finished the evening by dinner with the Miller's at a restaraunt overlooking Addis, build on the side of Entoto [mountain]. Dropped my parents off at the airport just a bit ago and will sleep following another chapter of Kafka. I'm ready to sleep in my own bed again, but it looks like that's at least a week away still. I have to travel back to Bahir Dar on Wednesday to conduct the Northwest Ethiopia District audit. The following saturday is the District Assembly. Sunday drive back to Addis, Monday jump on a plane for Jimma. Tuesday Fayyaa is conducting a community AIDS Day with an estimated 30,000 in attendance. Wednesday I'll do the Southwest Ethiopia District audit, then drive to Mizan for their District Assembly. Someday it'll slow down...

30 Seconds Short of a Great Day

2005-12-23T06:37:00.000-08:00

23 Dec 05

I'm now in Addis again, this time for the holidays. I arrived by air this morning, which set the day off to a fantastic start. I've mentioned that the bus system, though extensive and inexpensive, is not exactly luxury travel. Traveling by air is for me something of a rare treat; this is only the second time I've flown. As I jumped off the plane my mobile phone rang. It was Getemesey telling me the man who is willing to rent me his Land Cruiser is waiting for me at the district center. Another win. I've been trying to confirm that I actually have a vehicle to ferry my parents around, and started trying to get ahold of the right person about a month ago. I hopped on a contract taxi - another treat as I usually opt for the cheap group taxis - and headed for the district center. I did this as there strangely were no group taxis in sight when I left the airport. My contract driver explained to me, once on the road, that there was a disturbance again today and many drivers were staying off the roads.

When I arrived at the district center Getemesey and his friend were waiting for me with a Land Cruiser in fantastic condition. The price was somewhat high, but I played the "I'm a volunteer and just don't think I can pay that," card and got it reduced. He agreed to rent to me as a "soft-rent" which means he'll rent to me without a certified driver. This is somewhat of a risk to him as I might drive like I do (ha) and damage his vehicle. Once we agreed on a price he asked where I was heading. He agreed to drop me off on his way to wherever it was that he was going. I stopped at a new mall near the Miller's home, and spent several hours shopping in a bookstore and then reading my purchase in Kaldi's - a Starbucks clone except with better coffee and much cheaper prices (what do you expect in Ethiopia?). I also realized while there that I hadn't eaten lunch so I ordered a pizza. By the time I left for the Miller's I was in a great mood and enjoying one of my best days in a long time.

I took a group taxi to the turnoff to the Miller's, and then walked to their house from there. On my right side hung my attache style bag with laptop, camera, and mobile phone. On my left hung a duffel bag with books and clothes. Along the way I chatted with school children who are always eager to show off their english, and nodded to the elderly men who bowed and smiled to me. Pass the tea shoppe on the left, past the small grocery shop on the right. Down the dusty road. Passed by a taxi, and huddle with the locals as we keep our heads out of the dust cloud that rises in the van's wake. Finally turn right onto the last leg of the walk to the house. In the distance a group of children walks along with a parent or older brother. Quick running footsteps come up behind me. A young man is suddenly by my side. I turn to him and smile, thinking he is one of the many who run to me to use their english, ask where I'm going, etc. He says "money." I smile and shake my head no, by now used to being asked for money on a regular basis. He starts putting his hands in my pockets. I shove him away and say no. This is somewhat typical as well, and isn't regarded as violent or "mugging," at least not when its done by someone obviously in need. In this case the young man seemed well dressed and not particularly hurting. He continues to try to get into my pockets and grab my back. I am somewhat forceful in saying no, and beginning to realize this isn't the typical begging I experience in Jimma. He raises his right hand high in the air and reveals he's holding a large rock and tells me to "Stop!" Now its not that I'm particularly brave, but something about the situation struck me as funny - a skinny Ethiopian holding me up with a rock, as if we're not walking on a gravel road and I can't bend down and pick one up too. I smile at him despite that he's trying to attack me and tell him no. He seems confused and doesn't know what to do, obviously more scared of hitting me with the rock than I am. It was clear to me from his reaction that he had no intention of attacking me. I thought I was home free.

Of course, it can never be that easy. No self respecting Ethiopian thief would ever rob someone by themselves. Two of his friends run up. As I said, its not that I'm all that brave, its just that if someone is going to rob me they're going to have to work for it. Alright, sure, if someone holds a gun or maybe a knife to me I'll throw my hands up. But two empty handed Ethiopians and one scared guy with a rock aren't going to intimidate me. Nevertheless, I only have two hands and they have a combined six, not to mention that its not really in my nature to strike back. I do my best to keep them from reaching into my pockets, but in the meantime one has grabbed my arms and the other two have grabbed my bags. Had I let up, I don't know how much they would have taken. As it was they seemed to want to get away in a hurry, either worried that I might decide I've had enough or that someone else might decide to help. They are, after all, robbing me in broad daylight. Before I could grab my bags back away from them, one of them had taken 100 birr (12USD) from my pocket, and the other found my mobile phone in my bag. I was angry enough that they got that much, but felt lucky they didn't just run off with the bag. I would have lost a laptop, ipod, and digital camera, not to mention my passport and a credit card. It doesn't make sense to me for them to let me keep my bag, but as I said, they weren't exactly hardened gang members. I suspect they'll sleep uneasy for the next few nights, worried the police will show up.

The Millers will probably want me to report the incident, but I don't think I will. The policy of the police here is to arrest at random a group of young people in the neighborhood, and then beat them to make a point to the community. The idea is to make the punishment on the community so bad that the community itself turns against the criminals. I also always harbor a sympathy for the criminals who rob me (this is my fourth time to be robbed, though the first to be done to my face). In fact, my anger towards those who steal from me is not so much rooted in my loss of property, but in the inequitable exchange of property. The 100 birr I don't mind losing, and view it as an almost justifiable exchange of resources from the rich to the poor. However, in stealing my mobile phone, they will likely make another 100 birr selling it on the black market. Granted, I could buy it back from the black market and thus make the exchange of property equitable, but since I originally purchased the phone legally for 500 birr, there is an effective loss of 400 birr in the exchange. I'd rather the theft go like this: theft of 100 birr, theft of mobile phone. After we all agree the theft event is over, haggle over the price of the phone. I could offer them 150 birr, giving 50 birr more than they'll make selling it illegally, and saving me 350 birr to buy another one new. Obviously this would never work (if I have another 150 birr on me they'll just steal that too) but it should work, if only we could sit down and reason together.

Anyway, after a short party for my pitties, I'm now alright. No major harm was done, and I've lost more total cash bribing my way out of Mexico. The Miller's will be back tomorrow, and Sunday is Christmas. My parents are coming Jan 3 and I've got a Land Cruiser. What more do I want? Well, a mobile phone for one. But other than that...

Michael

In Memorium

2005-12-14T21:39:00.000-08:00

Received this ePostcard from a missionary on the Horn of Africa field:

Our field is deeply saddened to announce that Brother Alpha has passed away from natural causes. Brother Alpha was one of three survivors of a fellowship of believers who were martyred in the mid-1990s. In recent years, Brother Alpha had witnessed the rebirth of the church and the launching of a half dozen house fellowships in his home community. He will also be remembered for his sacrificial care for a wounded brother.

Brother Alpha was among the longest surviving believers among his people. He became a Christian in 1986.

When his country was wracked by civil instability in the mid-1990’s, lists of known Christians were printed on flyers, and Christians on those lists were hunted down one by one. Of those who were known Christians, only three survived. Two fled into exile in other countries; only Brother Alpha remained in his homeland. He survived by going into deep hiding.

A few years later, circumstances changed sufficiently to allow Brother Alpha to begin cautious evangelism in his community. Brother Alpha became the leader of a zone of house fellowships. He was known as a wise and prudent man, who led the church effectively while putting neither himself nor others at unnecessary risk. His home was a haven for believers. And believers always knew that they would receive warm hospitality from the family’s meager resources. At the time of his death, there were approximately 100 believers in his zone, of whom about 30 were a part of Brother Alpha’s house fellowship.

Recently, a district superintendent who was passing through his city was shot and injured in a robbery attempt. The District Superintendent was much better known for his faith than Brother Alpha. However, Brother Alpha risked his own life by personally caring for his injured brother.

Early this year, Brother Alpha became a teacher in an extension training program for pastors. His training provided Brother Alpha an opportunity to fellowship with Christians from other ethnic backgrounds for the first time. Those who were in class with him were deeply moved by his testimony and faith.

The family is being assisted in several ways. When Brother Alpha became ill, he was so highly respected that his neighborhood, which is almost exclusively Mu, collected money for his care. A memorial service was held by his fellow students in which $40 was raised to benefit his family. Brother Alpha’s own community of believers is also taking an offering. A fund has been established to assist Brother Alpha’s widow to launch a small business. Finally, Brother Alpha’s two surviving children have been enrolled in our child sponsorship program for pastors. Anyone interested in sponsoring his children may write to this e-mail address for further information.

The church in his community celebrates the faithful witness of Brother Alpha, and recognizes the crucial contribution he made to ministry among his people. “[He] has fought the good fight, [he] has finished the course, [he] has kept the faith.”

Only in my dreams

2005-12-13T03:42:00.000-08:00

13 Dec 05

While many of you are gearing up for the xmas season, the festivities have for the most part passed me by. I worked on Thanksgiving day, and have yet to see a Santa Clause. The daily high of 85 doesn't do much to instill seasonal feelings either. Last week I visited the missionary family that has been hosting me here, and for the first (and only) time this year I saw a xmas tree with lights, presents, and even an angel on top. The house was decorated for Christmas, with soft carols playing on the stereo and light by candles. When the song, "I'll be home for Christmas" played, it became my own. I truly am dreaming of a White Christmas and I will be home - if only in my dreams.

The situation isn't all that bad. For Christmas day I'll stay with the Miller's in Addis, and by the time Ethiopian Christmas rolls around (January 7) my parents will be here. We will make the grand north tour of Ethiopia, visiting Gonder, Axum, and Lalibela. If you aren't familiar with these places you ought to look them up on the internet - they're fascinating. By the time you schedule a day or two in Jimma, their 12 days in Ethiopia will fly by extremely fast. I just hope they don't get sick (but they probably will).

I spent last week in Addis to host both the regional and international directors of Nazarene Compassionate Ministries. They were both allot of fun, and it was nice to have some english speaking visitors again. We visited various Fayyaa projects, making sure to not hit the same ones we visited with Send-A-Cow. One family we visited is taken care of by the oldest sister, only 14 years old. Both parents died, the mother only 4 months ago. After our visit, one of the guys made a comment about how sad the situation is. He's right, of course, but I came away from the meeting with a different perspective. Because I live here, I constantly see street children, orphans, people living with AIDS, none of whom have the support these three children have. The community around these three children has rallied to their support, and with Fayyaa's help continues to support them in material and emotional ways. The children are without question at risk; the oldest sister is especially vulnerable to men who would like to take advantage of the situation. Yet I cannot help but be excited to see the work of Fayyaa in the lives of these children. What makes me sad is not that these children are at high risk, but that comparatively speaking they are at low risk.

Sometimes an argument comes up against aid that says something like this: people are poor because they don't want to work, and giving them hand outs just creates a dependency syndrome. This may be true in some cases, and I have seen it in Ethiopia. However, for the most part people seem eager to work but just lack the resources to do so meaningfully. Two of the caregivers to whom we gave heifers proudly brought us milk during one of our visits. They were excited to offer a gift to those who helped them get on their feet. Trino and I were the only ones brave enough to drink the milk. I was somewhat squimish but at this point, I'm of the opinion that my stomach can digest just about anything. Another family we visited consists of two grandparents and six kids. The elderly man was plowing the acreage behind the home with two oxen (donated by Fayyaa/NCM) and was happy to have us take pictures of him working. Like those with the milk, he was proud and excited to show off his work. The same couple was gifted carrot seed to start a small carrot garden. With the proceeds from the original sale of carrots, they now have a huge carrot garden providing enough income to keep all the children in school. We left with a pile of carrots for which they adamantly would not accept payment.

What's next? Who knows. I'll tell you when it happens.

Michael

Jimma News Update

2005-12-03T07:02:00.000-08:00

3 Dec 05

Because the last post about violence in Jimma got picked up by various blogs/forums of the Ethiopian Diaspora, I thought I should update and correct the report. When you're writing for family and friends details aren't as important, but if I'm a de facto news source I'd like to be a bit more careful.

The number taken to the hospital was eight, not nine. There were two females and six males. They have been discharged from the hospital, but are still in need of care. Students at Jimma University collected funds to pay the rent for a house for the eight to stay in and receive care, which they have also raised funds for. I am unclear why they need a new rent house; it may be that they were living at the Teachers College and were forced to leave. There is also talk of a protest/demonstration at Jimma University to protest the actions of the government, both in general but specifically in reference to this event.

Finally, I mentioned in the other post that some of the students were unconscious. I am unsure if this is the case. When I was told the event I tried to ask questions like, "were the blows to the head," and the tendency was for the questions to be answered with "yes." So it may have been translation difficulties that led me to believe any were actually unconscious at the hospital. The rest, however, is confirmed by various sources.

This Week in Jimma:

2005-12-01T23:24:00.000-08:00

2 Dec 05

We met with Send-A-Cow representatives. As somewhat of a pessimist (pessimists prefer to be called realists) I am a bit disappointed with the meeting, though in many ways it was encouraging. Anbessu, our eternal optimist, is confident that the meeting went well. In our final conversation they offered us technical assistance and supporting advice, but not a funded project. We are invited to visit their current project to see what we can integrate from their program and improve in ours. The possibility for a future funded project was left open. Anbessu believes - and he may be right - that they want to see our level of involvement and desire to implement regardless of funding. Frankly, we can use the technical advice, and in that sense whether we ever engage in a funded project with SAC the partnership can be rewarding on this level alone. Sometime in late January or early February Anbessu and I will travel to the southern highlands to meet with local farmers participating in the SAC project, and we will take some of our orphan caregivers who own small plots of farmland with us. The SAC approach revolves completely around sustainability and local empowerment, and this is exactly what we need to integrate and encourage in both our current and future projects.

Aside from the partnership aspects of the meeting, the day itself was extremely encouraging for me. Most of the time I stay away from the field projects, not out of lack of interest but out of courtesy to the NGO. That is to say, when the white people show up, expectations for cash handouts goes up drastically. Because of this, last Monday was really my first time to sit down and speak with the beneficiaries of the project on an individual basis. The first woman we met with was later described the the SAC UK representative as the poorest woman he had ever met. This comes from a man who spends his time traveling throughout the poorest countries in the world looking for people to participate in SAC projects. The woman is suffering from AIDS herself (she said asthma but her true condition was clear), is taking care of five orphans, and has no source of income. She lives in a mud hut that Fayyaa built, in which she keeps the five children, herself, and the cow that Fayyaa bought. The heifer only gives milk for 5 months or so after giving birth, and thus hasn't been any real use to them in several months now. Her home is on a piece of land hardly bigger than the hut, allowing no potential for a kitchen garden or other forms of income. Where would she be without Fayyaa? The children would certainly not be in school, and the little income they raised from selling excess milk from the cow would be gone as well. They would have no home, most likely living in the stable of a friend or relative. She still has a long way to go, but it was encouraging to see the progress she has made because of the participation of her community in collaboration with Fayyaa.

During the first round of caregiver support Fayyaa started with a small number of beneficiaries. One of the requirements Fayyaa requests of the community is 10% cash support for the program, which brings the community into the project and gives them 'ownership'. Cash was raised by community leaders going door to door, asking for 1 or 2 birr (10 or 20 cents) from each person. For many this is a significant contribution. Contributions were reluctant and sometimes given grudgingly. By the second round of caregiver support, the community gave without question, with many offering to give extra. The community sees the benefit and change to the way of life of the people supported and wants to help.

We met various people whose stories are encouraging. One teenage boy, an orphan himself, is now the primary caregiver for 6 brothers and sisters. Fayyaa bought him a horse cart and horse. From the initial gift, the young man has raised enough money to keep all of his brothers and sisters in school, buy a second horse to replace the first, and purchase 2 heifers. He is now in the process of purchasing land and building a home for his family. He is now a respected member of the community, and others come to him for business advice - not to mention loans!

My favorite of those we met with, however, came at the end of the day. I suspect Anbessu saved 'the best for last'. One of our projects we refer to as "vulnerability reduction," and targets young women working in high risk jobs, especially commercial sex work in hotels. They receive counseling, sero-status testing (HIV positive/negative), and if they choose to leave their job are placed in any of various income generating models. We met a woman who now runs a coffee house in Limmu Gennet, previously a commercial sex worker in the same community. Her family was destitute, and rather than starve she moved 150km away from her home community to work as a prostitute. The shame of the position kept her from taking this kind of work in her local community. One of the questions SAC asked her was to compare the amount of money she makes now with the amount she was making at the hotel. She didn't answer directly, but responded that it didn't matter, now she is happy. She smiled and said, "my name is changed - no longer am I called a bar lady, but now I am a business woman!" She too is now a respected member of the community, and has even been married since she left. This alone marks a significant change; no one in rural Ethiopia would marry a sex worker. The fact that she has a husband marks the communities acceptance and recognition of the change that has taken place in her life. Her name has changed.

Fayyaa can do better. There are things that can be changed, and should be. But one cannot meet these people and not be proud to see the work that is already going on.

---

Also this week in Jimma, violence found its ugly way into our quite streets. Students in the Jimma Teachers College invited a member of the government to come for a panel discussion and to raise complaints about current policies. They were told the official would come on Monday. When they gathered for the discussion (rally, protest, etc) the official did not arrive, but in his stead the compound was surrounded by federal police. The students began to chant slogans and protests against the police and administration. It is unclear if the demonstrators ever turned violent - I suspect and am told they did not - but in any case they were severely beaten. Nine were taken to the hospital, where the police prevented the doctors from treating the patients for a lengthy period of time. They were left outside on stretchers as many of them bled from open wounds or sat unconscious from blows to the head. This report came from witnesses first hand, whose names or details I won't report for their safety.

I doubt you will read this report anywhere but here. I've searched the web in vain for a news bulletin on this. I have heard second hand dozens of these kinds of incidents, though most of them have taken place far from Jimma. Mostly when you hear these things you try to discount them, and since you can find no evidence in the international media referring to them you choose not to believe. This incident makes me wonder just how many of these cases are occurring throughout the country without being reported. Stories are filtering down of thousands of young people being held in makeshift, open air prisons (read: concentration camps) and about the ways in which they are being treated. I hate seeing this, I hate hearing this, and I don't know what to make of it. I want to hear more stories about commercial sex workers getting new names, and less stories about torture of political prisoners.

If you pray, pray for peace in Ethiopia - but expect that peace may not look like what we assume it will.

Michael

Chocolate and... soap?

2005-11-27T01:33:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-21T09:10:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-16T02:55:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-15T08:05:00.000-08:00

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

2005-11-04T04:21:00.000-08:00

(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

Pale Blue Walls

2005-10-17T04:27:00.000-07:00

(Noon, Monday 17 October 05)

One thing has bothered me the past few weeks, especially as I sit in my office of pale blue walls. Despite that I live in rural Ethiopia and work everyday with native Ethiopians, I have little if no contact with those I am ostensibly here to serve. I do not encounter orphans, their caregivers, or people living with AIDS. Certainly I am less isolated from their problems than I was when sitting in the blue room of Bridwell Library (in contrast, its walls were a dark, deep blue highlighted with brilliant white wood accents). Yet to some extent my pale blue walls have become my new chamber of isolation, if ever so different from my old.

Mostly it is selfishness that draws me to spend time with those I am helping. It is much easier to motivate oneself when continually seeing the fruits and necessity of labor. To serve without seeing or feeling either the need or effect - this is difficult.

However, my isolation isn't so profound as I once though. There are continually people walking into our office to meet with the various case workers we have at the compound. A few days back I was sitting in File's office when a woman around 30 came in. She sat down and began to talk with File. He introduced her to me, and without even thinking I stood to shake her hand. She seemed surprised. File began to explain who she was - her story - with me. She contracted AIDS several years ago and has been struggling to make ends meet since. She is now doing much better than before, through counseling from Fayyaa and re-education in ways to sustain herself economically.

Had I known she had AIDS when she walked in, I still would have undoubtedly shaken her hand. I honestly don't have enough experience with AIDS to be afraid of it. And in any case, my scant education on the virus does let me know that you can't get it from shaking hands (well, unless you both have open sores on your hand...) Yet despite knowing better, I began to run through everything I knew about AIDS in my mind. I suddenly had the desire to wash my hand. These thoughts were fleeting, and I quickly pushed them aside. Through translation we spoke for a few minutes before I crept back into my pale blue chamber.

Hung on the pale blue walls are three posters. One is a map of Ethiopia. Another is a workplan I had to prepare when I first arrived. The third is produced by UNAIDS and says across the middle, "These are some of the most painful symptoms of HIV and AIDS." Surrounding the words are dozens of pictures of people living with HIV/AIDS. Under each is a description of the way their community, friends, family, and loved ones responded to them after learning they contracted the disease.

"Get away from me."
"You deserve it."
"The wedding is off."
"You disgrace the family."
"I thought you loved us."
"Mom said you will be dead soon."
"I'm afraid of you."

The list goes on. I realized that if I - a volunteer who moved across the globe to help fight the spread and effects of HIV/AIDS - am tempted to think about AIDS in the manner in which I did, that without question others do as well. What a hard life! And yet the few people living with AIDSI have met exude a sense of hope for the future. They are still able to laugh and smile and carry on with their life.

I hope to meet some of the orphans and their caregivers soon. As I said above, I must be careful about this. My presence "on the field" can cause unnecessary complications for the NGO. Nevertheless, it is important, I think, for me to see what we are doing here. And, perhaps almost as importantly, for me to shake people's hands.

Michael

Everytime I think I'm out, they pull me back in!

2005-10-08T08:24:00.000-07:00

(Saturday, 08 Oct 05)

Given that last week was an exercise in some kind of quasi-philosophical rumination, I am somewhat behind in describing my life here. For the most part, the days are fairly similar one to another, so I do not have much to report. A few thoughts on the past couple of weeks:

I mentioned last post that I observed an Orthodox holiday known as Meskal. The event celebrates the re-discovery of the cross Jesus was hung on. So the story goes, after Jesus was buried by Joseph of Aramathea and other followers, the group realized that the cross had already been removed from Galgatha. Foreseeing that the murder weapon of their politico-spiritual leader would someday be a religious icon, they were greatly disturbed. The pre-church members called a meeting, which turned into a prayer vigil asking that God guide them to the lost cross. I suppose it either got cold, or one of the members had the wisdom that it would be easier to find the cross with light, so they formed a large bonfire. The smoke from the fire rose in a pillar, then bent back towards the earth ultimately leading the searchers directly to the cross. I suspect this story is told somewhere in a pseudo gospel, or perhaps is loosely based on another story in the Apocrypha. If anyone knows where to find the origin, I'd love to hear. To celebrate this rediscovery, all of the Orthodox churches come together in a stadium. In the center of the stadium, each representative priest lays his copy of the ten commandments around a large, unlit bonfire. After a service of singing and preaching, the bonfire is lit. As the fire grows, the priests retake their copy of the commandments, and march out of the stadium while the crowd chants, sings, and throw additional logs onto the bonfire. The center of the fire lifts a cross surrounded by green plants, causing the fire to produce more smoke than otherwise. Finally the crowd squeezes out of one small gate to the stadium, still singing and chanting. The total affect is quite grandious.

Also, I have now walked to the top of the hill overlooking Jimma three times; on all three occasions I have visited (to one degree or another) the castle of King Abba Jiffar. The first time the castle compound was closed to visitors. The second time I was not allowed in because I had not brought enough for the "foreigner's fee" to enter the compound. The third time we convinced the ushers to let me in free because I work for an NGO, and to let us take pictures for a one time fee of 5 birr (55 cents or so). After touring the grounds and hearing the history from the usher, we pulled out the camera for a few pictures. The battery was dead. The guard told us we could buy batteries at the sook (small shop) down the road. I don't think I was ever able to explain that you can't buy lithium-ion rechargeable batteries at rural shops in Ethiopia, but in any case we didn't get any pictures. After leaving the castle the third time, Bikela (the guy whose name I never knew) and I walked to the ends of the earth (or so it seemed) on trails that lead to villages completely inaccessible by car (the Ethiopian government estimates 80% of Ethiopians live a full days walk from a 'highway'). I fell in love with a village of 5 buildings on the side of the mountain I hiked to and climbed. Its called "Kujae" and when I asked locals in Jimma about it none of them had ever even heard of it. I keep saying "this time it was really remote" but I am continually relearning what this word means.

Today we had planned to go again, because Gimitchis is back in town and wants to see it as well. He hasn't been in 15 years. However, I am scheduled to take the GRE on Oct 22 in Addis Ababa, so I forced myself to take a full length practice test today, and am doing the same next Saturday. By the time I got back to the house we ate a late lunch, after which Gimitchis fell asleep. He woke up around 2, which didn't leave us enough time to go up to the castle, look around, and get back in time for his prayer service.

Speaking of services, as I'm leaving work late Friday, I notice Anbessu is still there as well. I poke my head in, say goodnight, and ask if he needs anything else. He says no. As I'm leaving the NGO compound, he comes running up behind me and asks if I'll preach. Thinking he means in a week or two I start stalling, then think to ask when. Yes, he means Sunday. This Sunday. Tomorrow. Don't get me wrong, I have a few canned sermons up my sleave. He managed to talk me into it, so I'm sure I'll be using one. My only fear is that canned sermons won't translate well. For instance, many of you probably have heard the sermon about the women at the well. I call it the "wal-mart" sermon because the first part is a story about nearly getting sued by wal-mart. I'm just not sure if a story about the largest retail chain in the world will translate well, especially when it has to do with automated answering machine messages and the like. Needless to say, this isn't the sermon I'm using tomorrow. I started to get worried about preaching long enough, but realized that if I can hit 15 minutes I've really preached 30 with a translator. So that is one nice part of preaching on the field... your sermon times get doubled. I may try to preach a solid 45 minute sermon which would translate into an hour and half. Maybe that way they'd never ask me to preach again! I'll show them...

For those of you who are curious about the political situation, everything seems to have calmed down. The opposition party cancelled the demonstrations and the strikes, and the ruling party is inviting them into discussions about changes in government practices. Ethiopia is now the seat of the African Union and the United Nations - Africa headquarters, and there are going to be a number of summits in the near future. Most people suspect the ruling administration made some concessions to keep things peaceful so that the summits would move forward without any problems.

While I've got your attention, I hope that you are keeping up with what's going on in Mexico and Guatemala. They suspect thousands are dieing in Guatemala due to mud-slides. Some of you were with me on a mission trip to a small village near Pana Jachel on Lake Atitlan in Guatemala. The reports are that this is the area being hit hardest. The loose volcanic soil turned to mud is simply washing entire villages away. If anyone has any information on this area or our church there, please let me know.

I've sent a few pictures as well. Hope you like them.

2005-10-08T08:21:00.000-07:00

Gemitchu and Lemone

2005-10-08T08:18:00.000-07:00

Gemitchu and Lemone feeding each other

Tenaya preparing coffee (boonah).

Reflections from a displaced other

2005-09-30T05:26:00.000-07:00

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

2005-09-26T10:50:00.000-07:00

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!

2005-09-25T10:20:00.000-07:00

My room again.

2005-09-25T10:13:00.000-07:00

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

2005-09-25T10:10:00.000-07:00

My house.

2005-09-25T10:06:00.000-07:00

Tenaya and Teressa cooking my dinner.

2005-09-25T10:01:00.000-07:00

My room...

Coup d'etat

2005-09-25T06:09:00.000-07:00

(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

2005-09-18T03:28:00.000-07:00

(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.)

2005-09-12T07:44:00.000-07:00

Monkies outside Fayyaa offices.

2005-09-12T07:42:00.000-07:00

Monkies outside Fayyaa offices.

Happy New Year!

2005-09-10T22:52:00.000-07:00

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!

2005-09-09T00:59:00.000-07:00

Drive from Limu Shei to Agaro.

2005-09-09T00:57:00.000-07:00

A coffee plantation between Limu Shei and Agaro.

2005-09-09T00:55:00.000-07:00

Driving out of Limu Shei.

2005-09-09T00:52:00.000-07:00

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

2005-09-09T00:48:00.000-07:00

Jimma Bus Station

2005-09-09T00:46:00.000-07:00

From behind a coffee house. (Drive to Jimma)

2005-09-09T00:43:00.000-07:00

Me. (Drive to Jimma)

2005-09-09T00:40:00.000-07:00

Drive to Jimma.

2005-09-09T00:39:00.000-07:00

Traditional huts. (Drive to Jimma)

2005-09-08T07:57:00.000-07:00

Traditional huts. (Drive to Jimma)

2005-09-08T07:56:00.000-07:00

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

2005-09-08T07:55:00.000-07:00

Receding lake. (Drive to Jimma)

2005-09-08T07:53:00.000-07:00

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

2005-09-08T07:52:00.000-07:00

Homes on stilts. (Drive to Jimma)

2005-09-08T07:50:00.000-07:00

Middle class neighborhood in Addis Ababa, taken from Nazarene HQ

Living In Jimma

2005-09-07T07:23:00.000-07:00

(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

First Days

2005-08-31T22:56:00.000-07:00

(Evening 31 Aug 05)
For those who have been wondering - Yes, I have arrived safely. Moreover, even though I have been with a family almost continuously since arrival, I have already felt a bit 'lost in ethiopia'. Even amongst poor nations Ethiopia is one of the - perhaps the - poorest, and a certain amount of culture shock is necessary when traveling from the world's most affluent nation to the world's least.

The capital city of Ethiopia - Addis Ababa - is a city of contradiction, as many major third world cities are. Towering centers of wealth and commerce are interspersed amidst poverty. Dan pointed out that areas of Addis that would be considered 'slums' in a city like Nairobi are not 'slums' in Addis; they just are the city. Despite this, as someone noted, Addis Ababa and Ethiopia in general harbor a functioning economy. From an outside perspective, it is just immediately apparent that it functions at a much, much lower level than that to which we are accustomed.

My first tastes of adventure came today. I had my first traditional Ethiopian lunch, which consisted of a flat sponge-like bread served as a giant circle/platter upon which various thick sauces and vegetables were poured. You tear off pieces of the sponge, then soak up or scoop up the various sauces poured on it. Before we left for lunch I was promised an amazing drink of fresh juices blended together into a "rainbow" juice drink. Aparently the juices separate into their various weights leaving a ranbow effect on the drink. By the time we got around to ordering, however, we forgot the juice drink and ended up with the extraordinariliy original coca-cola. I am now promised the juice drink in Jimma, where it is supposedly better anyway.

The more adventuresome part of the journey centered on the taxi driver and his 'passionate' driving style. Now, I have, like many of you, ridden on any number of taxis and buses in Mexico, as well as both urban and rural Guatemala. No experience in either country was anything like this taxi ride. He drove against traffic on a regular basis, accelarating and braking constantly on slick roads surrounded by heavy traffic. A number of times I was convinced we were going to hit someone, and just kept brasing my legs against the seat in front of me. I remained brave enough to keep my mouth shut throughout the evening and our various stops, assuming this was normal behavior for an Ethiopian taxi. I found out later in the evening that his driving was far from normal, and the preferred assumption is that he was high on a legal drug something akin to marijuana. Its good information to know, as about half way through the ride I decided to stay away from the private taxis and stick to the group taxis, which rarely seem to get over 20km/hr.

(Next Morning 1 Sep 05)
I am doing an email dump, waiting on my coffee. The coffee here is wonderful, and for those who think they are drinking "fresh" coffee because they grind it themselves after purchasing it in sealed bags from Starbucks, at this point I'll have to disagree. In the morning our maid picks green coffee beans from the plants, roasts them on the stove, grinds them against a stone, and brews them while you wait. I hear the water boiling so my coffee must be close.

Today I am receiving an Ethiopian drivers liscense. I thought this might be something we would skip, but aparently its necessary. After last evenings taxi ride I don't think I ever want to drive on these roads, but perhaps it'll come in time - as all things must.

Until next time,

Michael

Early Phases II

2005-06-26T11:09:00.000-07:00

Greetings from Pasadena, TX. No, I'm not lost in Ethiopia yet. At this point, I'm still trying to get there; then I'll worry about getting lost. Or found. In any case, I'm finally sitting down to write a few thoughts about the upcoming year, and let people know exactly what I'll be doing (as exact as I know).

In August of '05 I'm headed to Ethiopia with Dan Miller & Co., and after a short stay in the capital - Addis Ababa - I'll be moving to a town in the Southwest called Jimma. Once there, I will work with a local relief agency - Fayyaa - which is Orominya for "Health" or "Well-Being." At this point they are primarily involved in AIDS relief, though they have recently expanded into other area programs like building footbridges, etc. The folks on that side of the Atlantic (that side of the Pacific too... And Indian. Also Red Sea if you went through the middle east. Most do not. I will be going east through Italy, so I'll stick with 'That side of the Atlantic'.) have encouraged me to learn Afaan Oromoo, the language of the southern region of Ethiopia as well as northern Kenya.

Once settled in and language skills begin to slowly come along, I will be the Nazarene representative to Fayyaa, involved in various administrative and fundraising projects, as well as curriculum development, etc. To whatever extent possible, I will also be helping local Nazarene congregations and any Nazarene efforts in the area (I'm thinking W&W team liaison, etc).

In the mean time I am still traveling around the US, raising funds and spending time with family and friends. This morning I spoke for a few minutes at a service in Lake Houston, and tonight I'll do the same at Pasadena First Church of the Nazarene. Tomorrow I'll jump on Greyhound back to OKC. After a few days I'm off again, this time to Arkansas where I'll spend time with grandparents and speak at the Nazarene church in Mtn. Home.

If you know of a Church that needs a speaker in the OKC area on July 17 or August 6, please let me know. These are the only two days left open on my calendar.

Any giving done through a church can be written to the local congregation, with Michael Rodgers - NIVS written on the memo. The church can then write a lump check to Kansas City, with my name - Michael Rodgers - written on it, as well as NIVS and Ethiopia. I need between $10k and $12k dollars for the year.

Thanks for even taking the time to read this, and keep me in your prayers.

Peace

Michael Rodgers

Early Phases

2005-06-15T12:24:00.000-07:00

One cannot understand the face of a dog smiling, or the voice of God speaking.

- African Proverb