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Published: January 20th 2010
Timkat 2010
Priests escort the Ark of the Covenant to Jan MedaSelam!
As this will be my first blog entry since the tween fad of starting up personal blogs essentially to post pictures of hot boy band members which struck my young life during elementary school, I feel it is necessary to give a little introduction in order to set the tone of this blog which I hope will be much more informative and enthralling than my first - not that Brian Litrell of BSB is not enthralling.
In June 2008 I graduated from university with an honours bachelor degree in history and political science. Immediately after graduation, I moved to Trois Rivieres, QC, for a six week French immersion program at the University du Quebec a Trois Rivieres where I earned a certificate of completion at an intermediate level. Hoping to find a job where I could put my education to use, I followed the lead of my friend Alex, securing a job as a Greenpeace canvasser on the streets of Toronto. This was, without a doubt, the most frustrating job I have ever had in my life, one in which I did not find much satisfaction or, resultantly, success. One can only handle being rejected hundreds of times
Timkat 2010
Learning the "dance of our culture" at Timkat festivities in hundreds of very creative ways for so long. Five weeks later I got a job with The Beer Store and soon after that, Roots Canada, to bring myself up to full-time hours all in the hopes that some day, should an opportunity to work on the ground in a developing country, I would be able to finance the trip. I worked at Roots through Christmas, a Hellish time for anyone working in retail, and then cut my jobs down to one once TBS was able to offer me near full time hours with an infrequent role as a temporary supervisor. Nowhere else in this world is it possible to encounter the mélange of people that walk through those doors every day. When dealing with some of the regulars, especially the raccoons (a title we used for customers who rummaged through other people garbage collecting empties), it was difficult to follow the conversations or even be within five feet of them, while others touched your heart with their openness to share their life stories and to learn yours. One and a half years later I can honestly say that this was one of the best jobs I have ever had (that’s saying something since I have had well into the double digits). That fact can largely be attributed to the friends I made - a group which most working people refer to as their coworkers. Finally, in November 2009, I secured an internship with the Canadian Physicians for Aid and Relief (www.cpar.ca) and in January of 2010, I packed up one carry-on and two check-in bags and moved to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, where will be based for a minimum of six months.
I arrived in Addis on Saturday night and it quickly became clear why Ameseginalehu, meaning ‘Thank you’, was the first Amharic word I learned. Every single person I have been introduced to has taken me under their wing as a guest rather than a forenj.
On my first day in Addis, as would be the case on a first day in any new place, my survival instincts took over. The Emmad Guesthouse, a building of furnished apartments which rents out rooms like a hotel, thankfully provided me with a traditional breakfast of eggs and peppers along with some other spicy dish, served with pineapple juice and a delicious cup of spicy chai. After breakfast, I admit that I hid in my room for a few hours trying to work up the nerve to go outside. A secondary reason for lurking around my room was because I was curious to see how my body would manage digesting breakfast, which had, at the time, had been a mystery meal. Eventually I did a little dance to psych myself up and walked out the door feigning confidence as best I could. As it turned out, there was nothing to fear. The receptionist introduced me to her friend, a private taxi driver, who was already heading to Bole (a main street) with a passenger who turned out to be the acting Regional Director for Oxfam. After dropping Fred at his destination, the driver accompanied me to a grocery store where he helped me shop for some staple items: milk, noodles, pasta sauce, apples, and woo hah (water). As a gesture to welcome me to Addis, he also bought me a bag of mini Bounty chocolate bars that I had been eyeing. That was such an incredibly comforting gift. By this point he had definitely earned the right to ask me this question: “What is this problem (pointing at my forearm) with the skin?” I have a lot of freckles, which, it comes as no surprise to me really, look like some sort of terrible disease of the flesh to people who aren’t used to seeing such pale spotted skin. I laughed and explained that people with red hair often also have freckles and that we are sometimes referred to as being “ginger”. I have never been so aware of my appearance.
The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up on sleep lost over the previous 30 or so hours of travel from Toronto to Amsterdam to Khartoum and finally to Addis Ababa. Luckily, the Guesthouse is equipped with wireless internet so when I woke up I was also able to get in touch with my family and send out messages to a few friends. Unrelated to the luxury of wireless access, here is a tip to anyone planning on living in Addis for any significant period of time: bring your laptop and as many movies as space/weight allows; when you are too tired to explore or suffering temporarily from newcomer-agoraphobia as I did, those two things will be a godsend. For dinner I made some very bland pasta on a propane stove in the room. It took me a good four matches to light the flame because I instinctually recoiled every time the grill sparked. Brilliant.
4:30am eventually rolled around. I have yet to master “Ethiopian time,” but I am pretty sure that equates to 10:30 at night. Ethiopian time, as I understand it so far, is dictated by the sun. So the “day” is considered to be between 7am and 7pm, the former being counted as hour 1, making 8am hour 2, and so on. The calander is also a bit different from the Gregorian calendar. For example, the 2010 New Year started on January 11th in Ethiopia. So, as I discovered today, my birthday has already passed this year rather than yet to have come. When it does come, I will be six years younger than I would be were I living in Canada. That part I haven’t quite managed to wrap my head around yet, but it sounds eshi (‘okay’)! Anyways, I digress. Hours 10-2 on Sunday was emotionally, a very low period of time for me. I tried to read my Lonely Planet and go back to sleep but my body, still running on “Toronto time,” was having none of it. The tears flowed freely as I started to panic about how I was going to get around the next day, about going to work, finding food, and inevitably coming back to this room alone.
But as the sun rose, so did my mood. I scarfed down one of my Bounty chocolate bars and then headed to the Guesthouse’s restaurant where I ordered pancakes which were not unlike injera in a lot of ways and served with a sweet sauce comparable to syrup. One of the CPAR drivers picked me up at the Emmad’s back door and, careful to navigate the jagged potholes which freckle the roads, drove me into Gerji. The staff sat down together for a brief introduction over cokes and cookies and then after a few hours of work, the holiday began! Two of my supervisors, Zilalem and Faisal, took me to lunch across from the Imperial which consisted of sheep tibs and shiro. FYI, I have a hard time eating pork, ribs, lamp, pretty much anything remotely unconventional in the meat department so its very good that I didn’t know that I was eating baa-baa sheep until it was too late. That afternoon they taught me how to navigate the minibus network. Those who have traveled within Ethiopia will NEVER forget their first blue and white minibus experience. These vans come rushing towards crowds of people standing on the side of the street and a young boy hangs his head out the window shouting out the buss’ destination. “Megenagna! Megenagna!” Megenagna, loosely translated, means the place where things meet; the Canadian equivalent would be a bus terminal. About 10-15 people can fit in one of these vans and a ride usually costs 0.85 or 1.85Birr, up to 0.20CAD. We attended the opening ceremonies of Timkat, a holiday which celebrates the Epiphany (the baptism of Christ in the River Jordan) in the afternoon during which child choirs sang a selection of traditional Ethiopian hymns and a number of ornately dressed priests carrying colourfully decorated umbrellas escorted the Arc of the Covenant to Jan Meda. To cap off the day, we went to Kardi’s Coffee, a coffee house charged with being a knock-off of Starbucks. While there are undeniable similarities which smack you in the face even before you enter the door, Ethiopia is where coffee was discovered - there would be no Starbucks without Kardi and his goats.
January 19th, yesterday, was Timkat. Helina, my coworker picked me up at The Emmad early in the morning and we made our way through the crowds to Jan Meda, a massive sports field complex, where the festivities were taking place. Word to travelers: its crowded so do not carry much on you in the ways of electronics, money, and/or identification if you can avoid it, but definitely bring your camera and get ready to push and be pushed. The first stop we made was by a freestanding sprinkler where people were crowded around trying to catch drops of water. I think it was probably symbolic of the blessed waters of the Jordan, but it was also just a lot of fun and a great way to cool down. After sharing a Coke/Fanta with a few of Helina’s friends, we made our way around to the various groups that had formed all over the field. There were incredibly entertaining azmaris, comics who tell their jokes in the form of song/limerick, singers, and dancers - which brings me to my first of what will undoubtedly be countless humiliating stories. I got pulled into a dance circle where a few young men attempted to teach me “the dance of their culture,” which is sort of a cross between popping and booty shaking. I think I need some practice, but in exchange for their expertise, I taught them a “dance from my culture,” aka ‘the chicken dance’ in the styles of the Prince, Will Smith. The move was a hit; it may catch on! Helina pulled me out of the circle and we made our way around to watch/play a few games. One of my two favourites was one where they blindfolded the participant and gave him/her a stick with which they were supposed hit a ball that had been hung in a bag from a wooden cross bar. Once the contestant is all set up, the crowd starts yelling directions to them and laughing. The other game was one where you bet on yourself to be able to kick a soccer ball through a tire. I lost 3Birr on that one. To avoid the bottleneck, we left Jan Meda ahead of the crowds and found a good vantage point along the street to watch the procession as it returned the Arc to the church. I had had another coke, but by mid afternoon, I was so hot, dressed in a traditional Ethiopian head scarf, that I nearly fainted and had to sit down. Another tip: bring a snack and a bottle of water, and for my fellow gingers, not that you need to be reminded after years of painful practice, lots of sunscreen and lip balm with SPF (no less than SPF 45 for the screen because there is no messing around when you are this close to the equator). The endless singing crowds that accompanied the procession were like nothing that I have ever seen. They danced and lifted blessed grass that had been laid out on the road, launching handfuls into the outreached hands of onlookers on their way.
Exhausted but operating fairly capably on adrenaline, Helina took me back to her grandmother’s house where we shared a snack of spicy cheese and green cabbage served with some dense bread. Ethiopian cuisine, though delicious, can be tough on a Canadian belly. I chased down every few bites with a sip of coke to soothe my tongue, but despite my best efforts, her lovely grandmother still felt that she needed to encourage me: “Eat! Eat!” Along with the snack, her grandmother also prepared some home-ground coffee over embers on the floor of the “family room” of their two-room home. It was qanjo, meaning ‘delicious’ in this context, though the word can also mean beautiful or great.
Much later that evening, I ate the leftovers of some Kraft Dinner that I had made on that first Sunday night and then slept through my first full night in Addis. Another note: on the recommendation of a friend who also lived in Addis for six months just a few years back, I smuggled in seven boxes of KD in my checked baggage, along with some Gold Fish crackers and chocolate chip granola bars.
And one last thing before you are all caught up - I promise. This afternoon I went apartment hunting. We are so spoiled. I know that that sounds like a cliché, but we really are. I was so scared at just the thought of living in one of these apartments that I had an enormous lump in my throat all afternoon and had to leave work early and come straight back to the Emmad where I soothed my strained nerves with a locally brewed St George Beer. While enjoying the brew, Shania Twain’s “That Don’t Impress me Much” came on the radio. I took that as a sign that I was not to accept any of my current apartment options. The Guesthouse manager also told me not to panic, take my time, and judge the apartments by my own standards, not anyone else’s. I wish I could just relax and adapt; I feel guilty needing ‘more’ than what a coworker described as “heaven”. Conversely, I can’t imagine struggling day to day, only to come home to a place where I feel threatened and uncomfortable. For the sake of providing you with complete information, the best option was an apartment with a barred metal door and key lock, mattresses set up on cement floors, a grill balancing on top of a propane tank (which doesn’t even technically come with the apartment), and a shower which is really just a plastic indentation in the floor with a pipe running up the wall. I shake a finger at myself for feeling this way; yet, I must also remind myself why I am here, and that is to help make life better for the future generations that will grow up here in Ethiopia.
Interesting tidbits of info:
- There is much development going on in Addis these days largely thanks to investments made by/out of China. There are therefore many Chinese expats living in the city. As the only country to resist occupation during the scramble for Africa, a fact which is the source of great Ethiopian pride, one might think that the Ethiopian people would be wary of such a presence. One joke on the subject is: An Ethiopian man walks up to a Chinese man and says “Oh no, you cant fool me! You may be disguised with smaller eyes this time, but you go back to Italy!” In reality, anyone I have asked sincerely appreciates the investments - they have created many jobs and are helping to quickly build up local infrastructure. Ethiopia is wary of the future intentions of the Chinese government, but the immediate benefits are simply too great to refuse.
- Singer, Akon, is married to a beautiful Ethiopian woman. Though he is Muslim, his children were baptized according to Ethiopian Christian tradition. Akon is well liked country-wide, though national music tends to lend itself more towards the style of Bollywood.
- Education is advertised around the city as being a right of all, but still students consider themselves lucky to be enrolled in government schools. Post-secondary (grade 12) education in particular is an interesting system. Eligible students are distributed by the Ministry for Education to universities around the country. The students’ program is also selected on their behalf, without input, based on some sort of criteria which nobody has been able to adequately explain to me yet. Up until a few years ago, attendance at national universities was completely government funded, but now students share part of the cost of post-secondary education (costs largely pertain to living expenses). A diploma from a government school will also earn a graduate a better reputation in the working world as these schools are considered to be more challenging than private schools. Many students fail out, having not maintained a 3-point average and must seek either work or further education at a private school where exams can be paid for as many times as necessary.
- Tips for minibus riders: The word chaf meaning ‘before’ the crossing can save you 1Birr per ride (as opposed to teshagro). Also, don’t be shy about announcing your ‘stop’: “Woraji ale!” The term ale will also coming handy for ordering food as it means ‘here’. Literally translated, “Pizza ale?” means: “Do you serve pizza here?”
Favourite Amharic word: Kezkaza - Cold, from the fridge e.g. Kezkaka Coca Cola!
Well, that was quite the update - one page for each day I have been here in Addis. This afternoon I am going to look for an apartment of my own, hopefully in Wuhalimat where electricity and water supply is relatively reliable and I would be within walking distance from the office compound. Currently there appear to be no apartments available in that area. Point being, regardless of where I end up, once I leave the Guesthouse I will be without easy access to the internet and therefore unable to post updates with much frequency. I have consulted with my Canadian Ethiopia gurus whose advice thus far has been invaluable, and hopefully they will have some good suggestions for me regarding this little issue.
Much love to friends and family back home - I miss you terribly. The next six-plus months will be bittersweet for many reasons, not the least of which is the ache I feel deep down every day - a result of having left a big chunk of my heart back home in Canada with all of you.
Amanda/Mandy/Mands/Troy
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Scott Moores
non-member comment
Bonjour!
Hey Mandy, just wanted to say that I loved your stories already and it sounds like you are having a great time so far. Best of luck with the apartment shopping! Good luck at work and have a great time! Miss you lots, Scott