I want to describe to you how it feels to travel through Ethiopia. I want to take you with me, so that you feel like you are sitting right here next to Jos and me on this torn, itchy, plastic seat in this totally dilapidated minibus decorated with gaudy, colorful, beaded pieces of cloth that sway against each other with every jerk, creating a sound not unlike one you would get if you shook a Rastaman with beaded dreads really hard by the shoulders in rage. Sometimes Jos and I, one ear-bud for each, sing obnoxious African songs outloud out of boredom - think Toto, Lion King and Jungle Book soundtracks, and the whole bus of locals both laughs and stares at us in wonder. Shortly after our musical debuts, the driver inevitably turns on his
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