Just one item this week...

Hippos and Hijacking

There is only one item for the blog this week.

My friends David and Maureen have been on tour for the MoE and Awassa was the last set of visits on a long month's tour. Paul and I said we would look after them and pamper them, help them rest and show them the sites of Awassa. I think it will be quite a while till they visit Awassa again!

One of the highlights of Awassa is a boat ride on Awassa Lake to see the Hippos. Having checked various places and prices we decided on taking the boat from the Lewi Hotel – one of the few five start hotels in Ethiopia. A lovely spot to chill out with a (rather expensive) beer.  After a macchiato we were ready for our trip. Paul and I had previously been out on the Lewi boat and we had a very nice driver / pilot. This was Paul's sixth trip on the lake and for me the fourth, but we still both love a look at the hippos. This time the boat was jammed packed full of people – Ethiopian's and ferengi alike.

It was a lovely morning and everyone was buzzing with excitement. The only thing to disturb our peaceful journey was the little speedboat from the hotel which sped past us, disturbing the waves. Our worry was they would upset the hippos and scare them off.  But by the time we reached the hippos the speedboat was on its way back, short trip which smacked of 'I have money and can do what I like' attitude. But it meant we could watch the hippos in peace. And we were well rewarded for our patience. I have never been so close to these majestic creatures. They have enormous heads – I mean really huge and they had more than their nostrils and tiny flappy ears out of the water. I felt truly privileged to be so close to them. All too quickly we had to head back – it was after all only an hour's trip. But the trip back lasted two hours!

As we proceeded back to the hotel the driver of the boat slowed down. I noticed several row boats and thought – 'Oh hell we have driven over their fishing nets'. Fishing is a major source of employment and income for the fishermen in Awassa. Then we saw one of them holding a gun. Maureen thought it was a spear gun to get fish. Paul thought it was an excellent photo opportunity. Then we saw another boat with a guy with a gun, then another and another. We were surrounded by half a dozen rowing boats all with armed gunmen. There was a lot of frantic shouting in Amharic and we were being corralled into the middle of the lake. It was clear by now that something was 'going on'. The driver of our boat complied and we piloted slowly to the middle of the lake where we met up with the speedboat which was also being held at gunpoint. By now we thought that we were going to be robbed, and there was an amazing array of photographic equipment on the boat. The waiter from the hotel sitting next to me stuffed his money and his sim cards into his shoe. I did the same. It actually went through my head that they could have my phone but it was too much of an annoyance to lose my sim card – especially now that the cost to replace a sim card has gone up by 25 birr! There wasn't much money in my purse and no ID, thankfully. I even said to Paul to take out the memory card from his camera as he could replace his camera but not his photos. This too went down my sock! It is amazing how clear your head can be when faced with six guns pointed at you. I still wasn't convinced the guns were real. Everyone by now was thinking the same, that we were going to be forced to the other side of the lake and robbed. But then more frantic exchanges took place in both Amharic and Afan-Oroma (the language of the fishermen from the other side of the lake!) Finally an Ethiopian guy who works for the UN got up and starts shouting at the boatmen with the guns telling them (we find out later) to go away and leave us alone. Next thing we hear gunshots and in seconds we all hit the deck. This was now really serious. The waiter and one of the boatmen were first to the floor. Then the shouting got more and more frantic and with us all squashed on the floor of a rather small boat it was difficult to know what was going on. Slowly as the shouting stopped we one by one sat up again. The two Chinese people and the driver of the speedboat were boarding our boat. The gunmen took over the speedboat and told us to go on our way. They seemed anxious we leave quickly and there were cries of Amesaganallo (thankyou) as we drove off.

We all wanted to speed off back to the hotel but the pilot just cruised off, only to stop 10 minutes later to take a phone call on his mobile phone (apparently the noise of the boat made it difficult for him to hear). In fact he had been incredibly calm throughout the whole ordeal and was 'chatting' to the fishermen and seemed to know who they were. David thought the whole thing was a set up and he was part of it, to steal the speedboat. Someone else said it was a revenge attack for the death of two of their fishermen by the Sidamese fishermen (from the Awassa side of the lake). Either way it was a pretty frightening experience, though I didn't realize how scared I was till we finally got off the boat and my legs were shaking. Maureen flung her arms around my neck and cried – with relief. No-one was hurt. We all got back safely.

The reactions of people to the incident have varied. The Police were completely unconcerned and took no details, my colleague at work just laughed, my Programme Office hasn't bothered to call and the manager at the hotel (where we were FINALLY given a free lunch) simply said: "This Is Africa!" Though he was a lovely man and very attentive to us and apologized profusely. We have had phone calls and texts from concerned volunteers and the Country Director called us. But this still remains a country where guns are easily come by and civil strife between tribes spills over from time to time to non-locals. I have been told that the 'squabbling' between tribes is something actively ignored/encouraged by the government in order to divide and conquer. But where will it stop? Does it really need the death of a tourist to create an international incident and set people to action? And in the mean time who is concerned about the deaths of the two local fishermen? And what is being done to ensure the livelihoods of local people in one of the world's poorest countries? And what would we all be willing to do to put food into the mouths of our children in a place where the government looks the other way?

Rain and Sludge and Stuff

Rain and Sludge and Stuff
 
I have just completed a most satisfying job. It is one of those jobs that I am always meaning to do and never seem to have the time nor the inclination to get round to. I cleaned up one of my pen sticks. Actually I cleaned up three pen sticks. I no longer have double folders with the same names and documents with the same name just numbered 1 - 6 and I now know where everything is. And I am re-familiarising myself with all my school documents before this August. It only took me all afternoon yesterday and all this morning. But a strangely satisfying feeling! Only one small problem - I managed to completely delete my Poetry folder - and from the looks of things I teach a hell of a lot of poetry. I was quite blase when I realised what I was doing as I thought I'd simply recover all the documents and data from the recylce bin! But alas and alack no joy. Apparently when cleaning up and deleting from a pen stick the documents do not go into the recylce bin - I never knew that - so I have learned something in my time in Ethiopia! Thank goodness my hubby to be is an IT Guy, who spent an incredible amount of time recovering my data last night. That would be enough reasoon to marry him, but to be honest I am marrying him for his pancakes and the fact he has the complete series of West Wing!
 
In practice of my role as the dutiful wife I said I would cook dinner - we had agreed some time ago that as an example to Ethiopian men and young women Paul would do most of the cooking. Men here NEVER cook and would never dream of even entering the kitchen. Our (female) day guard's daughter thinks it is strange that Paul is even in the kitchen never mind he cooks while I lounge on the sofa reading my book. But it is all in the name of capacity building and setting a good example in the name of development! We had little in the house in the way of food, some tatties and a couple of ends of raggedy courgettes, so tatties and veg it seemed to be - till I was enlightened. A few days previously I came into the kitchen to the smell of raosting something. Almaz was roasting chick peas in the back patio. It was a lovely sight, her crouched over the tiny charcoal burner roasting chick peas. It was a delicious smell. The next day she arrived with a small bowl of shiro - chick pea powder - which she had obviously ground herself - truly amazingly fine - and she made a point of handing the bowl to me and not Paul - was she trying to say something? I think she is worried for Paul. She also likes to call me Jenny! So, I thought, we'll have shiro. Shiro and Tegabino are two of the most common dishes in Ethiopia. They are simply powdered chick peas made into an orangey paste and eaten with Injera. I love tegabino, which is usually thicker and spicier, having the spice berberry in it - a tastier version of chillie powder. From my vast knowledge of Ethiopian cooking I was aware that the shiro powder is usually cooked with some onion, garlic and burberry - which also gives it the lovely orangey colour and so I set to. The tatties were boiling and the veg roasting as I set my mind to the shiro - onion in, garlic and shiro powder in, cooked with water till the right consistency and eh viola - a lovely brownish sludge which tasted of nothing!!!! Serioulsy it was a brown sludge. I threw in the raosted courgettes and things seemed a little better, but it was fine with the mashed tatties - turned out to be a comfort food. But I think I'll stick to eating tegabino from restaurants. I also needed to hide my disaster from Almaz or she will probably seriously consider marrying her daughter off to Paul just to ensure he is being fed properly!!! But another reason for marrying Paul is he said he really enjoyed my sludge. We did try out other names for my cooking sensation like gloop - but gloop is always beige coloured to be and this was definitely a greeny-brown colour!!!
 
Or maybe it was simply that the electricity had gone out which gave the sludge its characteristic palate. You get used to the power going off here often, but last night it was perfect - we couldn't see what we were eating but we witnessed the most amazing thunder and lightening storm I have ever seen. The sky was electric with both sheet and fork lightening - it was like fireworks! And the constant rumble of thunder was strangely comforting. A truly amazing sight!

Bonga Bonga

Aha, the leak has stopped leaking! Why? Who knows, we are just thankful for the simple things in life. But to give the 'plumber' (he was a guy carrying around a wrench) his due he did say leave it a week, and he was right. Maybe the hay needs to swell or something.

Well it has been an interesting week. We went on tour for the REB to the west of Ethiopia to one of my favourite sounding places in Ethiopia – Bonga. I have to resist the urge to call it Bonga Bonga. The hours of neck-breaking (by the seatbelt) bumpy riding on the non-asphalted roads was worth the journey. Breathtaking scenery – oh so green and luscious – and there were trees – proper trees; if I squinted my eyes a bit and held my nose I could have been in England. Apparently Bonga is the birth place of coffee – but I imagine many places in Ethiopia can lay claim to this title. Our hotel didn't even sell tea – much to the chagrin of my travelling companion. But it is truly beautiful. What was also encouraging to the soul was to meet teachers and college lecturers working hard on CPD, and without per diem!! There are young teachers out there who want to improve the education of themselves and their students – and it is all the more heartening when you see how little resources they have.

I often wonder at the sense here of spending millions on 13 new universities when the school classrooms are so (literally) bare. And not just bare – but lacking sufficient numbers of desks for students, blackboards crumbling off the wall, 1 textbook per four students (if they are lucky) and 1 teacher for 75 students per class. It is funny how we look at development – all students in Ethiopia have free education right through to the end of university – including being given accommodation allowance. When I think of the debt our students come out with at the end of four years it is staggering – and yet Ethiopians all think white ferengis are loaded with money. Even in the remotest rural west in Bonga – where the sight of a white person is real cause for staring and commotion – there is the cry of one birr one birr, money money money!!! Do they get taught this at school I wonder! But again and again I am coming back to the notion of working at grass roots level – it is fashionable for NGOs working in development to alleviate poverty through working at the federal level. RUBBISH! Let's get back to simply building classrooms and giving schools and children proper places for learning with decent resources. How can we help alleviate poverty if the country won't help itself? The CPD team at the Ministry produced a manual to support teachers in their learning. All schools were to receive copies of this for their teachers and there is recognized funding set aside for this. It has been stuck in planning and procurement at the MoE for over a year now. When I kept chasing it up no-one seems bothered. How can you make a government care for its people? Why, I wonder, are we trying to introduce CPD in schools when teachers can't even get enough books and pens for theirs students and are paid a pittance for their trouble. Primary schools have on average 4,000 students and maybe 50 teachers. It gets back to the Ethiopian blame culture – no-one takes responsibility for their actions. The government blames teachers for the poor education of the students – even though it is not prepared to equip schools properly or pay its teachers a decent wage. Teachers blame their students for not learning even though they do not have the books to learn (students are regularly hit with sticks in schools). A volunteer mid-wife told me she was at a delivery and the baby was distressed and they assumed it was dead or dying. Not one of the Ethiopians took care of the baby. She had to insist on getting oxygen and stuff to revive the baby – which survived due to her care. While all this was happening all the Ethiopians in the room were laughing. When she asked about this she was told that no-one wanted to take responsibility for the baby in case it died and so avoided caring for the baby and used laughter to take away their sense of responsibility! The lack of responsibility is compounded by the fact there is so much 'Aid' money in the country that I think Ethiopians believe that is how you get money – through foreign aid and not actually working – hence the call for money, money, money from the smallest dirtiest child to the fattest well-dressed mama in the street. Paul's counterpart asks every day when Paul will give him his laptop. A friend lent an Ethiopian friend and colleague her camera and it was never returned.  When she asked for it back  her 'friend' said – I am keeping it, you are a ferengi and can afford to buy another one. When the ferengi pointed out that this was simply stealing the Ethiopian shrugged his shoulders and walked off – with camera!

Now there are genuine cases of poverty here – but it is getting harder and harder to distinguish who they are, and it is frustrating to have worked in a VSO placement where you thought you were going to be doing capacity building and sharing your skills when in actual fact they simply want you to do their work for them. So having travelled to Bonga has been a mixed experience. We were literally swarmed by children all trying to touch our skin, small children were actually being trampled on by other children to get to us. Real pop star stuff – but quite frightening and unsettling. I still do not understand the fascination they have for white people; it's a real mystery to me. People will literally stop in the street and stand and stare at you while you are having a coffee in a café. But I have come away remembering those teachers who are freely giving of their time and energy to improve things for others and their country. They are all young (in their late 2os early 30s) and I believe they are the great hope for their country. It is time for the new generation of Ethiopia to take over – and I wholeheartedly support them.