Finding 'Aman' in the Field

---

Cool story: I was sitting at a café last week enjoying a freshly squeezed avocado/mango juice (big thing here) and this young guy came up and introduced himself as “Yadi” - an Ethiopian by birth, currently living in the states, with family living in Ontario. We chatted for a while, but I was too skeptical to accept an invitation out for drinks with him and his friends later that night as any lone traveler would/should be. Given the opportunity again however... ... I opened yesterday’s paper to an article about the closing ceremonies of the African Union meeting held in Addis last week during which they revealed the newly redesigned AU flag. A picture of the designer - a familiar face - was cropped into the bottom corner of the article with a caption that read: “…a competition for the flag design was launched by the decision of the heads of state in 2007; the winning design went to Yadetta Bojia, an Ethiopian based in the US.”

I kid you not.

Mustn’t waste time on regrets! So another bit of cool news (though not quite as cool as meeting the AU flag designer) is that I got to have lunch yesterday at the Economic Commission for Africa (ECA) building smack-dab in the middle of a heavily guarded United Nations compound. The cafeteria had cuisine options from all over the world (Asia, America, Italy, South America, Africa…) and every meal came with a bottled drink and fruit cup. I indulged in a delicious Italian pasta dish served with a nice fluffy white roll on the side. I have to say that what I was most envious of was not the cafeteria or the library, but the wall covered in ads for available apartments to rent - if only life were that simple outside of the UN! *sigh* haha

Last thing, before I get to the meat of this blog entry (haha you will find out why that statement is incredibly ironic in about 30seconds), I have some MUCH less cool news: I have been sick for the last week with some sort of mystery stomach bug that even good-ol’ reliable Cipro couldn’t kill. Lots of theories floating around as to root of this: the bug bites on my arm, the raw meat, the roadside tea, too much tibs… …the list goes on. What I think we can deduce from this extensive list of potential causes, is that my poor belly gave me a two-week grace period upon arrival and is now telling me to ease off the new adventurous diet. Out of respect for poor belly, I took a few days off eating practically altogether and have now turned vegetarian - temporarily of course! Luckily, this decision coincides with the commencement of Lent, which here, in Orthodox Ethiopia, means 55 days of fasting - no animal byproducts allowed! I am feeling much better already which is great for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that I got away with being tucked up in a clammy ball in my chair during a meeting held under a tree on the weekend, but I’m not sure the same relaxation of common etiquette would hold firm in the conference room this Thursday.

Alright! Here goes!

Friday morning, we woke up a little later than usual having spent the previous night at a German Beer Garden off Bole where they serve beer in 5L tubes equipped with a tap right to your table. I’m not sure which part of the night I enjoyed the most: the garden's own brew which was phenomenal, the grilled cheese sandwich with french fries, or listening to G and his friend, Kusha, sing Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car” on the way home! We were therefore a little late leaving for the field, but managed to make it to Fiche (a small town just a few kms from Jarso) in time to meet our field staff for a lunch of shiro and veggies. The big shared plate was decorated with green chili peppers which “the guys” were eating like candy (chili peppers get chopped up and put into almost everything here: scrambled eggs, pasta sauce, shiro, salad etc.). G, being the lovely regional manager that he is, dared me to eat one, knowing full well by this point that I would not say no. I picked it up, took a bite, seeds and all, and this is roughly what happened: I said, “Oh! Its not so baaa… OH HOLY CRAP… OH IT BURNS… AMBO! AMBO!” and then my face went bright red and my eyes started to water. Here’s a tip for breaking the ice: being doofus makes people laugh, and nothing breaks the professional tension quite like a good inside joke among friends.

We met briefly with the Jarso Zone office that afternoon to share some information about our programs and to hear right from the local government what exactly the community needs most. Right now, in the lowlands there are a few villages at risk of losing their homes to landslides. Over 70 homes have already been lost, forcing the government to seek out a new site for relocation; the uprooted villagers will need access to all sorts of facilities such as schools, water wells, and health care centers once settled in the designated space. The region has already been deemed a hotspot for malnutrition so that is an ever-present challenge. It seems like such a daunting task on top of the issues that already permeate the region: HIV/AIDS, children with worms (that’s where the bloated bellies come from), malaria, harmful traditional practices (mutilation of all sorts), but it was only moments after leaving this meeting that everyone in the car got glimpse of how much aid is actually appreciated and what a lasting difference it can make.

We drove on through Salale and came across an old CPAR base camp that was handed over to the community many years ago. This camp was active under G’s supervision 20years earlier during the famine. Two elderly men at the gates told us that the community has left the space unused in hopes that CPAR will one day return. They also said that there had once been this great man called Gizaw (not recognizing the man he was speaking to at that very second) who had helped many people. Two decades after intervention, Salale is no longer a hot-spot. This is not to say that poverty does not hinder the lives of the people in the village - when you drive by numerous little boys, no older than 6, herding cows and sheep along the roadside you can SEE it, its tangible - but it is because of the community’s dedication to sustain aid programs, that Salale is now a relatively safe place to raise a family, a place where kids can get a basic education without having to walk for miles, and a place where well-irrigated nurseries are still actively producing food for sustenance and income.

We arrived at the base camp just before sunset. After a brief introduction to the field staff we all went for a walk maybe 100m down the road to the ridge of the Blue Nile Gorge to watch the sun go down. The distance from the top to the bottom is over 1000m. The red clay earth, spotted by towering eucalyptus trees, cactuses, and aloe plants, determines the twists and turns of a nicely paved road that crisscrosses the face of the gorge making the steep descent/climb possible for all sorts of modes of transportation from donkeys to dumpsters. A group of cunning little kids found their market for fossils from the Blue Nile lowlands in me and Anna who happily overpaid for a few stones each. After we watched the sun go down, we sat down together on some stones under a tarped hut on the side of the road and sipped on the best ginger ‘shai’ (tea) I have ever tasted.

In my personal journal I summed up this day with the following points: Today I…
- Brushed my teeth with a fibrous stick (worked really well!)
- Had a conversation in broken Amharic with a 7year old boy
- Was mesmerized by the starry African sky
- Entertained my coworkers in the car with an acapella version of Sir-Mix-A-Lot’s “I Like Big Butts”
- Slept in a room which, according to the site director, is “on the brink of collapse”

Back at camp we called it an early night after a dinner of injera and shiro with Friends reruns as our entertainment. 6:17am my clock went off. A select few of you know that I NEVER set my clock for generic times like 6:15 or 6:30; those of you who DIDN’T already know this, are probably now starting to realize just how nutters I actually am. I had made a brilliant decision the night before to sleep in my running clothes so that I could just pop on my shoes and go meet the guys a the gates for 6:30am, which is exactly what I did. AM and Mahlet also joined the group for an early morning walk, while the rest of us took off down into the gorge. This is the first time I have really run in about 7-8months due to a knee injury I sustained playing soccer in the summer. Much to my surprise, my knee actually held out without pain (touch wood)! I made it 5k down, and 2k back up at which point I lost all momentum and literally HIKED at a snail’s pace the rest of the way. It absolutely beats me how one guy did the whole 10k in SANDALS, and another 2 carried onto the next village completing a 41k loop without even losing step. But I think I have solved the mystery of why Ethiopian long-distance runners dominate in every international competition - they train in high altitudes where the air is thinner and the terrain is more of an obstacle than a facilitator.

One cold shower later, I felt invigorated… only to be stuck down by the aforementioned ‘mystery bug’ just hours later. Saturday was a series of meetings with updates from the Jarso team as well as the Dibate team who had made the bumpy 8hour trek to be with us for the weekend. I wish I could tell you more about what we discussed that day but I spent most of my time concentrating on suppressing the urge to hurl right into the middle of the circle.

For dinner (I call it dinner because I managed to eat one piece of bread and two pieces of meat - piece number three did NOT get down), we sparked an enormous bonfire; the cooking staff brought out two huge platters covered in meat and this big iron wok-esque platter that they greased naturally with some of the fatty bits and then dumped the rest of the meat into. As they stirred it around with two large machetes, AM decided to ask just how much of a goat we were looking at. The answer: 2/3. I can’t honestly say that I am glad that I know what TWO-THIRDS of a goat looks like in edible form.

Conversation around the fire turned to coming up with an Amharic nickname for me. I suggested one of the only flattering words I know: ‘shimunmun’ (cute) but APPARENTLY I have too much of an edge, which G describes as “disastrous,” to be worthy of such a name. haha They asked if I had any other nicknames in English. I told them and they translated one into Amharic that is a serious contender considering my chili pepper experience: ‘T’alik kaye’ (Big Red). This name is challenged only by a word that is close to my name with a meaning that they deemed quite appropriate for me: ‘Aman’ (Peace).

Next to make an appearance around the fire was tej. Tej is a local alcoholic drink (about 17-20%) made from fermented barley and honey. It’s sweet, but packs a punch. In Canada there are rules for mixing different types of alcohol in one night: “Beer before liquor, never been sicker!” or “wine before beer, you’re in the clear!” Here, they tell a little story: “Tej is a bully. It gets into your stomach and tells everything else to either make room, or get out!” haha I had what amount of tej poor belly allowed me to have and then retired to my crumbling room, closely followed by the rest of the crew.

And that folks brings us to Sunday! Breakfast was a no-go for me, but once everyone else was finished we took some group shots in the garden, packed up the car, and headed back to Addis. If that seems a bit abrupt, that’s because it was. Monday, as I said, marks the first day of Lent. It is tradition for families to spend the weekend before Lent together eating as much meat as possible. Neither I nor AM (who interestingly enough seemed to be coming down with whatever I had by mid-afternoon) felt like consuming ANY more meat so once we were cleaned up we went to Kaldi’s, ordered ourselves some teas and then headed across the street to watch “Have You Heard About the Morgans” at the local cinema. We had wanted to see “The Book of Eli,” but the theatre only has three screens. The trick to getting the time/movie you want is to check the listings in the morning, make your selection, buy your tickets (assigned seating) and then come back later.

Monday, as you know, was my lunch at the ECA. I would tell you about my company, but as a general rule I try not to bash people’s character - unfortunately this guy does not live by the same code. I will say, however, that I spent the entire hour keenly observing his personality while making every effort to maintain control of my facial expressions and a strong creeping desire to laugh out loud.

Before I wrap up with the usual Amharic vocabulary lesson, I have been told that THIS visual is worth sharing ………………………

After the run on Saturday morning, just as I was making the final turn back to base camp, I noticed a beautiful tree standing alone on a hilltop across a river with the sun rising behind it. If I had this sort of incentive every time I went runnin, I think I could give the Ethiopian boys a run for there money! I sprinted back to camp to grab my camera and then back down again to grab a ‘snapper’ (shout-out to dad with that term!) of the scenery. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but what I was seeing was made even MORE beautiful by a young girl would was collecting water from the river in big yellow jugs which she swiftly slung over her back once they were full.

You probably think that was the visual worth sharing eh?

It’s not.


In my excitement, I made two foolish mistakes: #1 I sprinted an extra km and #2 I did not stretch. The facilities at base camp are, let’s say, not what you or I are used to. The shower is an open pipe over a cement floor with a drain and the toilets, with the exception of one, are squatters. That one precious, occasionally flushable toilet fits the modern conception of what a toilet looks like, but with one difference: the seat is cracked with jagged pieces of plastic protruding from its surface. It’s such a tease! The seat is there but you STILL have to freakin’ squat. So what does this have to do with the run down to the river? Well, as you recall I wasn’t feeling well on Saturday and therefore wasn’t sleeping well either. Around 4:30am I got out of bed to have a drink and to use the washroom. If you have ever had sore quads before, you know that the descent to the toilet seat sends burning pains through your muscles. But what if, at the end of that descent you don’t get to sit down and relax? What if, instead, you have to do a SQUAT … and hold it?

Yep, that hurt.

AMHARIC VOCAB: Ok this time I’m going to share some stupid ones with you because, truth be told, that’s mostly what I learned this weekend. Also, just FYI, I have given up trying to spell these words properly and am now spelling them out as they sound!

Touche touche - armpit
Kit ras - butt-head
Camcami - drunkard (slang)

And the only non-offensive and/or useful words I retained are:

Bunna - coffee
Anan - Milk

Loves ‘n Misses,
Troy

PS Thank you all for reading! I appreciate every comment and message more than you know!

PPS Random note: I just returned from Pizza Dela Roma -- good pizza if you ever get the chance. We took cabs both ways and both times I sat in the back where the door handle was no more than a metal nub. This holds true for 98% of the cabs I have been in thus far. Do you think it is a result of wear and tear OR that it is broken intentionally so that you cant bail out OR...? hmmm...

---

Photos

Shoe Shine
G hanging out and getting his Birks polished! These shoe shiners really come in handy!

BNG Sunset
Standing on the edge of the Blue Nile Gorge at sunset -- not sure any words do this justice.

Go-Kart Ethiopia-Style
Next time I am in Jarso, if I find this kid, I might seriously suit up and pay him to take me for a ride! (I dont trust myself to NOT steer off the cliff)

BNG Fossils
15 Birr for 4 stones. We totally overpaid and the one kid that did the negotiating thought it was the FUNNIEST process.

The Long Winding Road
From where I am standing thats about 2.5k down... and counting.

Inukshuk
And there my little Cdn dude will forever stand... at least until rainy season anyways. haha

Me and G Having Roadside Shai
The young girl that runs this stand works HARD for 14hours each day -- longer if theres a lot of truck traffic. She used to have another location closer to the next village but got tired of getting propositioned all the time which is apparently less of a problem at the top of the hill than the bottom! She makes a MEAN ginger tea with whole fresh spices and is obviously very popular for it.

The CPAR Team
Representing Dibate/Jarso/Toronto/Addis

Hillside Village
These clusters of thatch-roofed huts are scattered all over the country-side.

Comments

[anonymous]

I like Big Butts...lol
How much do I love that you sang that song - I can literally picture you in the car singing it and laughing... Look at you getting hit on by famous Flag designers ;) I like "aman" peace that is a nice nickname SQUATTY POTTIES - DOn't miss em But I do miss you and your edge :D

[sam]

msg
it is broken intentionally as ethiopians do not like open car windows because of what they call "bird disease" so they purposly do that to prevent passangers from opening the window