Lost Arc Found

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LEAVING LONDON

So we chucked in our jobs, gave up our nice rented flat in London, took a risk and moved to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia! I’d been working for a non-profit in London as a caseworker for refugees, asylum seekers and immigrants (many from East Africa). It wasn’t that we had bad jobs back in London, but we just figured that one day we would wake up 10 years from now and realise we had just lived 3650 Groundhog days. We figured we better go for it now; before we had the rug rats, the mortgage and all those things that help create home but at the same time tie you down and leave you wondering ‘what if’?

We’d heard such wonderful things about Ethiopia and I’d worked with many clients from the region (yes, OK they were fleeing it - and some thought I was crazy and should be flying the other way back to the US). We considered heading to Juba, South Sudan, to look for work but a tent on the edge of a squalid river cost $100 per night, plus travel insurance wouldn’t cover us! So off we went to Ethiopia!

It was a very smooth flight with one exception. The pilot suddenly announced our flight time… to Khartoum, Sudan! J and I both looked at each other a bit panicked thinking “how in the hell did we get on the wrong plane?!!” Luckily it just turned out to be a one-hour stopover before continuing our journey to Addis. On the ground in Khartoum, they opened the plane doors and J had to rescue the passengers from Malaria by killing two invading mosquitoes!

TOUCH DOWN

We arrived late last Saturday night. After 24 hours of travelling since we left Hastings, England we touched down in Addis and were met by the driver / manager / receptionist of our hotel (the excellent but rather strangely named ‘Afro Land Lodge’). It was a relief to be picked up and have someone help fend off the many ‘friendly’ men outside the airport, who ‘just want to help you with your bags’!

Addis Ababa is 2300 - 2400 meters (nearly 8000ft) above sea level and is one of the highest capital cities in the world. Conveniently too high for Malaria! I was particularly affected by the altitude change; having trouble sleeping, swelling of my hands (my fingers looked like little sausages) and shortness of breath. Literally I would climb one flight of stairs and be gasping for breath - I guess our bodies needed to adjust but 8 days on I can say we are both slowly coming round!

EXPLORING THE CITY

Our first week in Addis and we have been both busy organising our new lives and exploring. We’ve spent lots of time just walking for hours on end, taking in the city and stopping for coffee. Ethiopia is (allegedly) the birth place of coffee - you can get almost any kind of coffee - bar a Super Skinny Soya Frappa Mochachino (although they don’t have copyright law here and there is one place that looks suspiciously like Starbucks). But they do have excellent machiatos; non-Europeans, this is an expresso with milk foam on top.

FERENJI = FOREIGNER

We were warned by the guide book (our own personal Bible - the Bradt Guide) of the infamous ‘ferenji frenzy’. As you walk down the street in Addis you will hear a chorus of adult and child voices - accompanied by smiling faces and much laughter - yelling ‘Ferenji! Ferenji! Ferenji!’ which means foreigner, foreigner, foreigner! Apparently this hilarious joke never gets old, despite the fact they must see at least one ‘ferenji’ every 15 minutes down town. Another favourite is for children to chase you en mass pointing and shouting ‘You! You! You! You! You! You! You! You! You!’ (Nobody knows why). Next time J says he will reply ‘Me! Me! Me! Me! Me!’ J. One man even rolled down the window of his car and pointed at us yelling excitedly “white!” - I guess we could have been the first whiteys he’d seen. My favourite however was when someone shouted merrily to J: ‘You look like Jesus!’

I should note that all of the above is almost always said with a smile and never yelled maliciously.

Kids are especially curious about us and two days ago J and I were taking a long walk around the time that school let out. Before we knew it, we realised we were being escorted by about twenty kids ranging from about 5 - 8 years old in pastel blue uniforms. They just surrounded us singing and goofing around, walking with us about 15 minutes - such cuties!

BONO - STILL RICH. POVERTY - STILL NOT HISTORY!

An Ethiopian colleague warned me back in London, in an effort to help prepare me for the move, but I don’t think anything can really prepare you for certain things you will see here. You have hungry street kids with ripped clothes hanging off of them just outside a very expensive supermarket catering to foreigners and rich locals - the pure contrast of this is heartbreaking. Beggars with no legs, perhaps wounded in Ethiopia’s last war, drag themselves along on plastic sheeting. Poverty is rife and difficult to deal with - you can’t walk five minutes down the street without being approached five times by people who are destitute and without hope. You can’t give to everyone, and that causes feelings of guilt - i.e. if that was me on the street, I’d hope that the ferenji walking by would forgo his next machiato and give me some money for something to eat.

We sometimes give sweets to the kids - although the foreigners here seem to be split whether this is a good idea (e.g. skip school, get free sweets from foreigners on the street / begging is encouraged). The Ethiopians often give to old beggars but seem to chastise kids for begging. The guide book author said he liked giving to blind beggars as he was fed up with being constantly approached because he was white, and hated being regarded as a walking bank, regardless of the comparative wealth divide.

Anyway it’s hard, heartbreaking and there are no easy solutions to the problems of eradicating dire poverty or how to deal with it mentally. We just try to treat everyone with respect and dignity, and are always polite, no matter how many times we have been hassled already that morning. You don’t want to become hardened to it but you kind of have to or you will go insane.

PLONKERS

People in the capital generally speak good English and are really friendly and nice - it is not an aggressive culture. Unlike the streets of some North African countries, you are not pursued mercilessly down the street by shopkeepers trying to sell you a coconut monkey for $100. Here if someone offers to sell you a knock off DVD* on the street and you smile and politely say ‘Aydelem’ (‘no’ in the local dialect m Amharic), they will let you on your way. *The going ferenji price for a DVD is $2 for the latest release filmed on a mobile phone in a Russian cinema - ahh, the magic of Avatar 3D, back in 2D with 3D Russians.

There is however one exception to the general niceness of the locals - these are those individuals known locally as ‘Plonkers’. The Plonker is generally a man 17-35 years old, who speaks excellent English and who is usually relatively well dressed. He will approach you on the street and say something like:

“I think English, right!?! I think I love England. I think I love the English, I think they are so smart, right!? Do you like the football? I think you do. I think I like the Manchester United, I think David Beckham is with the Manchester. I think he is the best. I think….”

The Plonker will continue like this indefinitely until you either run away or they say,

“I think this is a road… look! Do you like this road?! That is a building! I think I have been a good guide, no? Now please pay me twenty of your US dollars!”

Walking in one particularly touristy (well as touristy as Addis gets) area, we were approached by five seperate Plonkers - J had to be quite firm to shake them off - ducking into shops (they sometimes waited sulkily outside) - I even had to feign sickness (motioning that the vom was about to come out) to get rid of one persistent pair.

Another tactic they use is ‘My English teacher says I must practice my English on you!’. Well that’s fine, but sometimes I don’t want to be someone’s English language practice partner - particularly when they look a bit shady and their shady friend is walking a little too close behind me. On that particular day I had my dirty tissues picked out of my pocket (I wonder what genuine used Kleenex fetch on the black market these days? J). I also shooed off a guy reaching for J’s back pocket. Luckily we already knew not to carry anything of value in our pockets - just like in any big city!

NEW HOME

We found a nice place to live and are sharing a house with two girls. The house (a bit like a 50s American ranch style) is situated within a small compound surrounded by a high wall with a door in it. The Ethiopian family live well off our rent at the back of the compound - I believe in what were the servant’s quarters - which are quite big. There are beautiful gardens surrounding the house and trees, which produce fruit such as limes and pomegranates. The owners also have a little dog, politically incorrectly named ‘Blackie’, who makes himself at home running around the compound and often in our house. To those of you who are wondering (I know who some of you are) yes we have electricity and running hot water! We do have the occasional power outage (this happens around the city) but it is not really a big deal and we are always prepared with flashlights and candles.

We also employ a nice woman named Trongo, who comes in for one hour each weekday to do the washing and cleaning, and who can do things like navigate the mysteries of Addis to find out where to get a new set of keys cut. She also cooks a bit for the Ethiopian family out back and cleans a few other houses.

Our next task is to find work. We have been meeting lots of different people and are slowly getting an idea of what kind of work is out there. I still would very much like to work in one of the refugee camps dotted around the country but I think will just have to wait and see. If any jobs come up we will probably have to leave the country to get work visas and then come back in again. But who knows, we might end up working somewhere else in the region?

Next entry to include: visiting Lucy, the job hunt, food, etc.

J & S, reporting from Addis Ababa, over and out.

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