Much like a leaf caught in a raging river whose only choice it is to follow the current, so it is true for children who grow up in poverty. They get swept along in their parent’s current and often wind up at the same destination. I’ve realized in my time here that I may not be able to rescue that child from the river but I can try to create an off-shoot with calmer waters that over time will hopefully arrive at a different destination…one that is filled with opportunity and hope.

Trying to find ways to provide help and encouragement is as challenging as finding a needle in a haystack. How do you help without harming? How do you provide assistance without creating dependence? I’ve really struggled to answer these questions and I’m not sure that I’ve succeeded. I do believe, however, that to do nothing is unacceptable.

In Abi’s case, I first attempted to work with Souwnet. I found her work that would allow her to more consistently feed and shelter Abi. She wasn’t interested. I connected her with individuals who were willing to provide a job opportunity and pay for her to attend school in the evenings. She wasn’t interested. I was willing to help her set up a small business (i.e. raising chickens). She wasn’t interested. It became clear to me, that even if Souwnet is not happy with her current situation she is not interested or willing to work to change that. I cannot help those who do not want to be helped.

Abi on the other hand, at the young age of 4, is a sponge for change. Prior to my arrival, hygiene was not a priority for either Souwnet or Abi. I introduced him to soap and showers and he latched on to the idea wholeheartedly, so much so, that he ASKS to be bathed and have clean clothes. As preposterous as it seemed, I realized that Abi was motivated to change and learn and could possibly be the one to break the cycle of poverty and despondency in his family.

But, how to help and not harm? How can I make an impact when I can no longer be present? How can I use my limited resources most effectively? Education. It is the tool that is within my reach to provide. It is tangible, directly benefits Abi, but also indirectly benefits his mother. But, how can I make that happen from such a young age as 4 and knowing that I soon will be far from this place?

It’s amazing what will happen when you feel like you’re at the end of your rope and are powerless to do anything. Trusting is so hard and yet time and time again I have been rewarded. I had been so focused on seeking an open door that I failed to see the countless windows that were opening.

Within the course of a few short weeks…

• I learned that the private school in town has an all-day kindergarten program for students as young as 4

• Unbeknown to me at the time, the owner of the school is on the hospital board of directors and greeted me by name when I first visited the school

• My friend, Hannah, is a teacher at the school

• The school fee is reasonable and 100% of their students pass the national entrance exam for 9th grade

• There was a spot for Abi!

With Souwnet’s permission we registered Abi for KG1. With the help of friends and family, Abi was outfitted with gently used clothes and shoes, new school supplies, and a shiny new lunch pail. All seemed to be going as planned, but like the roads in Ethiopia, the path is never smooth, direct, or free from roadblocks.

Several weeks before school started, Souwnet’s mother passed away. Souwnet journeyed to the rural area for the funeral and after a week or so, returned to DebreMarkos. When I went to see her to confirm the final school details a week before the start of school I learned that she needed to return to her mother’s home for an extended period of time. She would be leaving two days prior to Abi’s very first day of school. When I questioned her about arrangements for Abi, she merely shrugged her shoulders and indicated that Abi would have to travel with her. She could see no other alternative. Frankly, I was distraught. To have such an opportunity within reach and then to have it snatched away was heartbreaking. I know that Souwnet felt torn, however, she lives a life where planning for the future gets overshadowed by the immediacy of today.

Fortunately, I have been blessed to operate under a different framework. Anything IS possible. I spoke with my friend Hannah (the teacher) and without hesitation she volunteered to take Abi into her home for the duration of Souwnet’s journey. Unbelievable! Souwnet was overjoyed, Abi was excited, and I was RELIEVED. Over the course of the weekend, I helped to introduce Abi to Hannah’s family and Souwnet washed his little bag of clothes and helped move him in.

On Tuesday, Abi successfully completed his first full day of school. For me, this was as monumental of an occasion as a graduation. I would be naïve, however, to think that the hurdles have been overcome. When she returns, will Souwnet make it a priority to get him to school? Who can I find that I can trust to pay the school fee each year? Who will help him with his studies? Who will ensure that he has a decent lunch?

Much like the fable of the lone man tossing stranded starfish back into the sea, I will continue to toss Abi back into the ocean of opportunity for as long as I am capable. I can only hope that when I leave that I will have built a network of local people around him that will continue to do the same. It truly does take a village!

Me and my favorite 4 year old.

An empty classroom that soon will be overflowing with eager, rambunctious, and I’m sure a bit nervous 4 year olds.

Each morning is begun with the entire student body (KG1-8th grade) lining up in the courtyard.

Abi was less than engaged with the first day of school ceremony. You could just here him thinking “lets get this show on the road!”

Bored already! I know he was thinking, “is it time for lunch yet?” I sat his lunch box next to him (so he would realize it was his) and realized my mistake when I turned around to find him having a snack…already….he hadn’t been seated 2 minutes!

I’m sure he's thinking “this is gonna be one LOOONNG day!”

I don’t know what I’d do without my friend Hannah. She has really gone above and beyond to help both Abi and Souwnet.

I have to admit that I thought I was as excited about Abi’s 4th birthday party as I anticipated he would be. I, however, grossly underestimated the enthusiasm that a 4 year old can generate!! As he came careening through my doorway on the day of his party, he was beside himself. I don’t think he had a clue what to do with all of his energy and joy.

For his 3rd birthday, I was pretty cautious. I didn’t want to do anything that would make Souwnet (his mother) feel displaced or discouraged by what she could or couldn’t provide. Since then, I’ve learned that Souwnet is happy for me to do whatever. With that knowledge I set out to make this birthday a memorable one…not over the top, just special.

I invited my friend Hannah and her little girl Tsion as well as Genet and Ava. Souwnet prepared the bunna and brought bread while I took care of the party hats, party favors, cake, candles, presents, and soda. We sang happy birthday, blew out candles and then I introduced the concept of party favors. I decided that having small gifts to give away would potentially thwart any meltdowns on the behalf of Abi’s little guests. What I didn’t take into account was Abi’s lack of understanding of the party favor. It was so cute to watch him pass out these little wrapped gifts to his friends with a look on his face that could only be interpreted as “what about me?” Truly priceless!

In an effort to respect cultural norms, Abi wielding a large knife, cut his own cake and then dove into his gifts. This year he didn’t have to be told that the gift was not the pretty paper!

Despite a broken glass, two minor meltdowns, one “didn’t make it to the shinta beyt in time” accident, and an unexpected afternoon rain the party was a raging success. The kids went home well sugared-up and the adults exhausted. Perhaps it’s a good thing that birthdays only come around once per year!

This is the picture that I captured on his second careening pass through the house. His excitement was contagious!

The revelers…pre-rain.

Abi wasn’t quite sure he wanted to give away his party favors.

Abi cuts, or rather stabs, his birthday cake.

Just a few trinkets and toys to ring in the special day. The biggest hit—his own set of keys. Lately he has taken to setting up my porch chairs, one in front of the other, and “driving” us on various adventures. He, however, prefers to drive from the backseat. Me too!

The birthday boy and me.

Abi and his mom, Souwnet.

I’m sure that when the main asphalt road between Addis Ababa and Bahar Dar was constructed it was met with mixed reviews on the part of the rural peoples—part blessing and part curse.

While traveling home from Bahar Dar recently I came across a horrendous site—a crumpled truck and 6 dead cows. All of the men in the village had turned out. While the young men were rapidly butchering to salvage what meat they could, the elders were holding an impromptu court of arbitration to determine the driver’s penalty and the farmer’s compensation. An accident such as this one is devastating for both parties.

There are those, however, who have recognized and capitalized on the benefits of the asphalt conduit…namely busload after busload of potential customers. Each little town along the route specializes in something. Roadside in Dembecha one can find cowhide stools, Finote Selam sugar cane, south of Injebara horse tail fly swatters (otherwise knows as the Chera), North of Injebara charcoal, and between Emanel and DebreMarkos the local spirit (Arake) sold in repurposed Whitehorse liquor bottles. The season also influences the roadside market. At this time of year, kids stand roadside waving bags full of lemons (the entire bag of 12-15 lemons for 1 birr which is less than 10cents) and roasted field corn. It’s a veritable Wal-Mart, just one that is stretched out over the course of a couple hundred kilometers.

Initially, I didn’t get in on the buying frenzy. Instead I would get frustrated as to the delays that would result when the bus or mini-bus would pull over for yet another passenger to purchase something. I realized, however, that the best way to curb my frustration was to join in the fun. Now, whether I’m in a big bus or a private vehicle, I happily shop my way home and in turn support small business at a true grassroots level.

I’m not a big fan of chawing down on raw sugar cane, but Tambarat (Gigi’s husband) is. He can’t get enough of the red sugar cane that grows near Finote Selam and I’m more than happy to pick him up a bundle whenever I’m passing through. I have to laugh, though, because I now shop like an Ethiopian. When this group of boys raced to the car, I inspected what they had in hand, turned up my nose, and then told them I wanted a fresh piece cut “tulu, tulu” (quickly, quickly). I have most definitely adapted!

Happy New Year 2002…again! For those of you that find yourself wanting a “do-over” or claim a “mulligan” after a wayward shot, perhaps you should consider relocating to Ethiopia for a time. Where else in the world do you get the chance to do-over an entire year?!

This year’s festivities were a little more low-key than the previous year. To the dismay of all Orthodox Ethiopians, New Years fell on a fasting day. For me and the sheep, that meant a day of reprieve. But, on New Years Day +1, the festivities commenced. I could have made the round of households with Gigi and family, but to be honest, I just couldn’t face the multiple sheep slaughterings and the platefuls that follow. Instead, I spent the day on the compound with my landlord and his family. It was a delightful day…and especially so as Aselef has learned what I can and can’t eat (perhaps will and won’t eat is more apropos). She kindly prepares me my own plate of well-cooked meat free of sheep parts, sheep fat, and sheep bone. Now that is truly a reason to celebrate!

Ava rounds up our New Years’ Feast. This is a girl after my own heart—a true farm kid.

Genet, Ava, and Hannah

It’s a rare opportunity that I am able to catch Getachew and Aselef in the same shot. The sheep slaughtering is celebrated by nibbling on injera served with a spicy berbery paste.

Just to prove that I was indeed a part of the festivities

It is customary that the men of the family perform the slaughtering. Getachew’s son, Addisu (in the foreground), takes the lead this New Year.

Ava is such a charmer. With her sweet smile, infectious giggle, and precocious personality she finds a way to brighten my everyday. Honestly, it doesn’t take much. Her outstretched arms the second she catches a glimpse of me, and the meltdown that ensues when I return her are enough to melt my heart.

At the wise old age of 15 months, it is not uncommon for her to sneak away from her house at the back of the compound (unbeknownst to her mother), enter my home through the door that I perpetually leave cracked open, and help herself to my endless supply of "treasures": shiny DVDs, keys, loose change, and her favorite—my cell phone. It is because of her kleptomaniac tendencies that she has earned the nickname "Ava the Layba" (layba is Amharic for thief). She has even developed her own signature. Everything that catches her eye and is soon within her grimy grasp is given a nice big fat kiss—the smacking sort of kind.

How could you not smile to see this little burglar trying to sneak in?

I love this perfectly timed shot! And, if you’re wondering, a big smacking kiss was bestowed upon the mirror.

I love a good meltdown and ironically I seem to be the root cause of most of Ava’s meltdowns. Lucky for me, I can just return her!

I know that Abi has built quite the fan club among my readers. He is such a character. I’m totally enamored with him, and I know that you are too. He never fails to make me laugh out loud.

It’s a rare day when I visit him that I’m not wearing my sunglasses. Within seconds of my arrival he’s requesting to wear them. He thinks they’re so cool! He’ll parade around exclaiming at how strong the sun is. Then when he steps indoors, he’ll push them to the top of his head and exclaim “like Kristi.”

When Megan left, she left behind an old pair of sunglasses. There was no person that I knew would appreciate or enjoy them more than Abi. How right I was!

Time flies when you’re having fun. I don’t necessary want to claim another year, but since I have little choice in the matter, I shall enjoy my “special day.” Gigi baked me a cake (one of the skills that I’ve passed on), and she even had me light and blow out my candles…an American tradition that she has wholeheartedly adopted. The photo shoot you see below is all her idea!

I must admit that my life is surreal right now. Returning to the land of 40+ hour workweeks, bills, and commitments is going to be a shock to my system. Don’t get me wrong, I do have responsibilities here, but they are much more flexible and accommodating than anything I’ve ever experienced in the States. It is possible to be outrageously spontaneous here and I love that.

On a Saturday evening my friend Dee called and said, “I’m going to Paris. Want to join me?” I’m not one to turn down an opportunity, especially one that comes knocking on my door. “Um, Yeah…love to go…when?” MONDAY!

In a whirlwind of activity, I cleared the trip with PC, reserved my flight, notified my friends and co-workers in town, and bought a bus ticket (the fateful journey that you just read about). In less than 48 hours from receiving her call, I was on a red-eye bound for Paris.

Little did I know that this last-minute excursion would turn into an amazing, once-in-a-lifetime exploration of Paris. Through a more common than you would believe turn of events, we stayed for free in the heart of Paris (Left Bank; 2 blocks off the Seine) with a woman Dee had briefly met in Ethiopia. There is a tight-knit bond that quickly forms between those of us who live abroad. Alison was happy to share her home and Dee and I were more than willing to accept her offer.

Alison, an American woman, has been living and working in Paris for the past 11 years. Not only is she fluent in French and knowledgeable about the city, but she is currently unemployed and was more than willing to show us around. For 9 days we explored and experienced Paris to our hearts’ content. We hosted 3 dinner parties with Alison’s mix of ex-pat and Parisian friends, spent a day driving through the Champagne region, feasted on French cheeses and pastries, watched the sun set over the Seine from the pedestrian bridge, explored Versailles, napped and read in Luxemburg Gardens, visited countless museums and even toured the Sewers of Paris. We left no site unseen…those above and below ground!

The highlight of our trip is the manner in which we explored Paris. I never envisioned biking the streets of Paris, but that is the BEST way to go. Alison just happened to have 3 bikes and we put them to good use. Our inaugural ride was done in style. Every Friday evening during the summer months, the city organizes a public ride through Paris. All three of us intended to go, but at the last minute Alison was unable to join us. She got Dee and I headed in the right direction for the rendezvous point and off we went. From 10pm to midnight, we and about 400 other people biked the streets of Paris. It was an amazing and beautiful way to experience the City of Lights.

Luxemburg Palace and Gardens

Being able to be in a public space filled with tall trees, beautiful flowers, and a perfectly manicured lawn was so refreshing. I literally could have lounged here all day!

You can’t tour the Champagne region without stopping to visit a champagnery. We wound up at GH Mumm & Co. and sampled a bit of bubbly.

Alison’s home turned out to be a charming one-room (plus galley kitchen and bathroom) apartment with a fabulous private courtyard.

Our evening bike ride was so much fun. I had picked up 3 French words in the two days we had been in town: please, thank you, and “to the left.” I never dreamed “to the left” would be so helpful, but it sure came in handy on our ride!

Versailles is impressive and completely OVERWHELMING.

Monet’s Les Nympheas exhibit at the Musee de l’Orangerie is a must see. Brilliantly displayed, it is a magnificent masterpiece that can and should be appreciated by everyone.

I had never heard of St. Chapelle, but I shall never forget it. I have never seen such a display of stained glass windows as I have here.

A trip to Paris wouldn’t be complete without a few shots of the Eiffel Tower.

I’m not one for endorsements, but if you’re going to visit Paris the museum pass if something you have to know about. You can purchase a 2, 4 or 6 day pass and it enables you to cut ticket lines at almost all of the major sites and museums in and around Paris. Plus, if you’re industrious and organized you can see a lot and save money. It’s definitely the way to go!

The Arc de Triomphe affords a fabulous bird’s eye view of Paris.

It was hot, we were museum’d out, and the thought of being someplace cool was inviting…so we toured the sewers of Paris. What we didn’t factor in was the strong, inescapable odor!

Each time I enter the Blue Nile Gorge a certain sign catches my eye. In English and Amharic it reads, “Heavy Land-sliding Zone.” Talk about truth in advertising!

On this fateful trip, I was in a rush to get to Addis. I had a flight to catch and not much of a margin for error. I never like to leave town on the same day that I actually need to be somewhere as this is a country where the unexpected can and will happen. However, on this occasion, I didn’t have a choice. I did, however, make one unfortunate error. I actually passed on a ride in the hospital’s private vehicle in order to help my friends (they are biking from Ethiopia to South Africa) navigate and deal with the logistics of our bus station. Josh had fallen ill and they needed to bypass the challenging ride through the gorge. Anyways…we boarded the bus at 5am and began our trek to Addis.

I remember thinking that our trip was progressing along in an uncharacteristically smooth and timely manner. We were nearly out of the gorge when I was met with a preposterous site. In a section of road that clings to the edge of the gorge, the right lane split from the left lane in what I can only assume was due to “heavy land sliding.” In the midst of the mess was a large tractor-trailer…stuck. Ethiopians are resourceful people and when resources are limited you use what you have. In this case, manpower. I have never witnessed a site where 30+ men are attempting to push a tractor-trailer. Fortunately, out of nowhere, came an oversized tow-truck, and together they were able to clear the road.

Josh, Nicole, and I climbed back on our bus and waited our turn to pass through the mess. As the bus rolled backward (in an attempt to pop the clutch?) we realized how stupid and potentially suicidal it was for us to ride across this land-sliding zone. We immediately stood up, headed for the door, and EVERYONE else on the bus followed. As we trekked across the divide, it became apparent that our bus was not moving. In fact, the stragglers of our group had actually turned around and were clustering in front of the bus. We, too, turned back only to discover that our bus decided then and there to give up the ghost. Unbelievable. Our driver’s solution to the problem—refund our ticket! I had a brief moment of panic when I realized that no knight in shining armor (i.e. a functioning bus) was going to come to our rescue. The other passengers picked up their belongings and started walking out of the gorge. And, there we stood. I certainly hadn’t packed for a trek on foot and although Josh and Nicole could have ridden out, they didn’t want to leave me stranded. Fortunately, I stemmed the panic and realized that perhaps the hospital vehicle was behind us. Through a series of phone calls and disjointed conversations in a mixture of English and Amharic I learned that the hospital car was indeed behind us and had space for me. So, we waited. For two hours we stood alongside the road in the Blue Nile Gorge watching the drama of the land-sliding zone enfold, chatting with drivers and their passengers who were patiently waiting their turn, and enjoying the view. I must admit, it was a beautiful place to pass the time and to ponder the question…”will there ever be a drama-free bus ride in this country???”

For many of you, I suspect that when you consider my life in Ethiopia you shudder to imagine yourself here. You read about my public bus escapades experienced sardine style and think NO WAY. You hear me waxing poetic on that last great warm shower (was that 5 or 6 days ago?), and think NOPE, NOT ME. You picture me wandering about town, mostly clueless and understanding less than 50% of the conversation around me and think NOT IN THIS LIFE. Power outages, scant water, unusual food, Africanized bugs, monsoon rains, intense sun, squatter toilets, and the list could go on and on. Yes, there are a lot of things that have taken a truckload of patience, grit, determination, and optimism to conquer, tolerate, and in some instances grow to love. Despite the inconveniences and differences, I can truthfully say that this country and people have grown on me. I will always have a special interest in and love for Ethiopia. The warmth of this people and the stunning beauty of this country outweigh any of the challenges I have encountered.

There is however, one aspect of my life here that I have yet to welcome with open arms and I suspect I never will. My coping strategies have fallen short in this arena. No amount of visualization, humor, prayer, or sheer stubbornness has helped me to adjust and embrace what I like to refer to as the “your life is not your own” mindset. For an American who cut her teeth on individualism and is an honorary if not actual member of the “ME-generation,” this is a hard pill to swallow. Privacy, personal agenda, me-time and the infamous “personal bubble” truly are foreign concepts here. I know that my Ethiopian friends probably think me crazy…and I will be crazy if I don’t figure out how to cope with this! That I long for a solo-walk, want to hole up in my house for an afternoon of reading, and don’t need to be constantly surrounded by people is unfathomable to many of my Ethiopian friends. I’m definitely not a misanthrope…just a person who requires a modicum of space.

There is no better example of my “life is not my own” than the events that transpired a few weekends ago. Actually it was only a day…24 hours…a full revolution of the Earth on its axis. In the grand scheme of things—a relatively short period of time. In the moment—an eternity.

Aselef, my landlady, approached me on a Saturday afternoon asking if she could use my house for 2 hours on Sunday. It was a seemingly straightforward request that required a simple yes or no answer. Unfortunately, that is not how things work here. I desperately wanted and needed to say no. My home has become my haven. It’s the ONE place in this town where I can almost find a bit of privacy (almost is the key word). I had planned on a “me-day”….reading, writing, cleaning, organizing, movie watching, etc. But I knew “no” was not an acceptable answer; nor could I even begin to explain a “me-day” and my need for it. So…reluctantly, and before a host of on-lookers (Aselef always makes requests to me with peer support in tow) I acquiesced. We agreed on the hours of 12p-2p, all the while knowing that her 2-hour request was probably a gross understatement.

Sunday dawned bright and beautiful. I was in the middle of a bucket shower and planning how I would enjoy my remaining few hours of privacy, when Aselef began pounding on the back door. Time—9am…a mere 3 HOURS before our agreed upon time. Before I could get out of the shower and dressed, she was pounding on my bedroom window. So, while I finished my morning ablutions, she and a small army of workers bustled in and out of my house. They rearranged my living room, carted in armfuls of cut grasses (my house smelled like a freshly cut field of hay), moved in no less than a stack of 50 plates and glasses, large clay pots of Tella (the local brew), and a stack of “fat injera.” It truly looked like they were prepared to wait out a storm of grand proportions. It was at this time, that I was given a job—to remove all of my possessions from the living room and hallway. Books, stacks of magazines, blankets, computer, shoes, and a sundry of other items had to be carted into my bedroom. It was there that I took refuge…for the day. At 3:20p I ventured out (nature calls) and discovered the party to be in full swing. At 4:30p, I had had enough. Although a few stragglers remained sipping the last of the Tella, I began cleaning. Let me tell you, when the farenji picks up the broom and dustpan, things begin to happen.

After 8 hours and 150 guests, I finally reclaimed my home, but not my sanity. “What’s mine is yours” is a fine sentiment, but in practice it’s a bit much. I’m sure that someday I shall look back at this moment in time, this clash of cultures and smile. At the moment, however, I’m not laughing!

Unfortunately these pics don’t come close to capturing the chaos that descended upon me this day. When the party was in full swing, I was hiding. And, I didn’t think to take pics until the clean up was in process.

My friend Dee has limitless energy, grand ideas, and a passion for empowering girls. If an idea or program may encourage a young girl to learn, grow, become more self-empowered and confident, or make better choices, then no hurdle will stand in the way to making that happen. For the past year, Dee has been working with a group of 9th and 10th grade students at the local high school. As a year-end reward, Dee invited those who consistently attended her extracurricular English class on an all-expenses paid trip to Addis Ababa. For all 7 of these girls, this truly was the opportunity of a lifetime. None of them had ever visited their capital and most of them had never been outside of their town.

Imagine taking 7 high school girls on a multi-overnight field trip to a city in a developing country. Now imagine you and that group of girls not sharing a common language. Dee does not speak Amharic and the girls English is rudimentary at best, but that didn’t stop her. When she called and asked if I was willing to help, I jumped at the opportunity. During my time in Ethiopia, I have frequently found myself getting hung up on the barriers. Where I see a mountain, Dee barely registers a speed bump, so I leapt at the chance to not only help, but to learn from one who I consider to be an inspiration.

At the absurd hour of 4am, we began our journey….a journey that proved to be empowering for not only the girls, but for me as well.

Our trip objectives were simple….to have fun, to consider “new” things, to broaden their world, to meet successful African women, and to experience the beauty and culture that exists within their own country.

Everything was new and exciting. From the card-key access to the hotel room (this required practice) to the elevator experience at the African Union, this was a trip that I’m sure was as magical as it was overwhelming. From sunup to sundown we were on the go. They experienced Addis Ababa University at the hand of my friend and professor, Wondimu, learned about the amazingly diverse people and culture of Ethiopia through the Museum and Library of the Institute of Ethiopian Studies, cowered in fear and awe at the Lion Park, were dazzled by the artistry and beauty of the immense stained-glass mural at Africa Hall, met with a successful Ethio-American woman working for the Clinton Foundation, tried appetizers at the Hilton Hotel, saw a movie in the only theatre in Ethiopia with stadium seating, rode an escalator at the airport, and toured the African Union.

Looking back, I think we were successful in meeting our objectives. I may never know, however, the impact that this brief and frenzied 3-day trip will have on their lives. I’d like to think that if nothing else, they will embrace the idea that anything IS possible. I sure have.

The girls and I outside of our home base, the RAS Hotel.

Wondimu was my language teacher during training and currently a professor of literature at AA University. He just happened to be standing 2 minutes away when I called to see if he could give the girls a tour.

The girls loved Lion Park. I did not. After seeing these majestic creatures roam the Masai Mara wild and free, it was painful to see them pacing the confines of this man-made prison.

The stained-glass mural, created by local artist Afewerk Tekle, was immense and breathtakingly beautiful. I only wish that it were located in a more accessible public space to be enjoyed by all. Because this building serves as an operations HQ for the UN work in Africa, getting access required passports/government IDs and tenacity on the part of Dee.

Africa Hall was built by His Imperial Majesty Haile Selaisse, emperor from 1930 to 1974, to serve as the HQ for the Organization of African Unity. On our tour, it was a bit confusing to ascertain which body currently makes use of this assembly hall. The girls, however, enjoyed playing “delegate” and took turns speaking to the assembly from the elevated dais.

When the girls were asked what THEY wanted to do or see on the trip, the unanimous response was “ride an elevator and escalator!” They had been reading a book with Dee that talked about both of these modern day inventions and despite Dee’s chalkboard drawings and demonstrations, the girls just couldn’t fathom how they worked. This task proved to be our most challenging one. There is exactly one escalator in all of Ethiopia and fortunately the airport security guards kindly gave the girls permission to enter and ride to their hearts content. The elevator experience proved most difficult to make happen. Despite numerous elevators in Addis, we had difficulty finding a working one due to power outages. On our last day, while at the African Union, we were successful. I had to laugh, though. To access the elevator, one had to climb 8 steps. So much for barrier free access.

Not only did we chaperone 7 high school girls, but a handful of little ones as well. No rest for the weary!

If you can’t tell, there is a gigantic sigh of relief on our faces. We can finally relax and breathe knowing that all the girls we started with are back on the bus, safe and sound.

I knew this day was coming, but I still wasn’t prepared for it. Megan decided it was time to return home and subsequently left the rest of us behind! Despite living 10 hours apart and only getting to hang out on the rare occasion, I still feel like I’ve lost a limb. Countless times I’ve started to text her about a ridiculous “only-in-Ethiopia” event that we could commiserate over or laugh about, and then realized that she’s thousands of miles and several time-zones away consuming gallons of ice cream and surfing high-speed internet without me! Ugh!

This type of crazy experience forges strong friendships. I’m glad to count her as a lifelong friend regardless of which continent she currently resides on!

Miss you Megan!

A bunch of us gathered in Bahar Dar to wish Megan a fond farewell. (From left to right: Straw, Megan, Me, Anna, and Nicole)

Ok…this photo is totally staged. This is how we wanted her to feel leaving us. In reality, she was busting at the seams with excitement about returning to the States and merely humored us with this sad face.

I walked into Gigi’s shop the other day and discovered two buckets packed full of beautiful, long-stemmed red roses. I haven’t seen fresh cut flowers since moving to this country. Needless to say I was excited, but also curious. Why?

Well, this past weekend marked the first graduation ceremony for DebreMarkos University. In anticipation of the event, a few aspiring entrepreneurs arranged to have a truckload of flowers shipped up from the South. (The South is home to numerous Dutch-owned flower enterprises.) The irony is that the flowers didn’t sell well. People here are practical and like a lot of bang for their buck…or more accurately birr. They want something that lasts…they want ARTIFICIAL FLOWERS. The artificial flowers sold like hot cakes and I’m sure will adorn tabletops and bicycles for decades to come.

I, on the other hand, love the real deal. Flowers aren’t meant to be dusted! Regardless of the price, I knew I was going to buy a bunch. I nearly fell over when Gigi quoted me the price of 5birr for 10 roses! For less than 50 cents, I walked home with a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses and a big smile on my face. I so love a GREAT deal!

Wearing more eyeliner than a runway model and an oversized gown befitting a bride, Ava celebrated her first birthday in style. Between the yards of lace and satin, the unwieldy birthday hat and the large machete-like knife she was given to cut the birthday bread, she didn’t know what to think. And, neither did I. When the knife was brought out and she started waving it like a sparkler, I hesitated. Do I intervene and use this as a teachable moment on the hazards of sharp instruments and toddlers or do I photo document the moment? Obviously I chose the later. I figured nobody would believe this particular cultural idiosyncrasy without proof.

It’s never too early to learn self-sufficiency and how to wield a large, sharp, machete-like knife.

Ava and her mom, Genet.

Being on safari was not the relaxing and restful trip that I imagined. We generally were out for our morning game drive no later than 7:30am, returned for lunch by 1:30pm and then rested for a bit before heading out again. Our afternoon game drive started around 3:30pm and we would return by 7pm in time to clean up for dinner.

Riding for hours in the Land Rover was much like an endurance event. We returned stiff and sore from being jostled about as the vehicle rumbled over rutty dirt paths and splashed through small ponds and branches of the Mara River. It felt like exercise, unfortunately, not the sort that burned any relevant amount of calories. And, of course, the comfort breaks didn’t help with the calorie burning, but did provide a much needed stretch for the legs. Kitchwa Tembo camp did the comfort breaks with finesse. As we padded into the bush for our own personal comfort break (but not too far into the bush), Sofie would construct an elegant mini-feast on a cute folding table dressed with a red and black checked cloth. We snacked on dried plantains, toasted almonds, sugar cookies and our choice of coffee, tea, or hot chocolate. We safari’d in style!

I could have passed on a game drive now and then and spent the afternoon soaking up the rays at the infinity pool, but it is addictive. I didn’t want to miss anything. Our staying power paid off. I can proudly say that I have been in the presence of the “big 5” (lion, cheetah, leopard, elephant, and cape buffalo) and many more of God’s magnificent creatures.

One of our twice daily “comfort breaks”

The Desert Date checkers the Masai Mara

One of my favorite spots for our late afternoon comfort break was this stretch along the Mara River. At first glance, I thought the river was filled with large boulders and then those boulders started shifting. Nope not boulders….just a ton of hippos. Hippos make the most amazing sound. The best way I can describe it is like a deep woofing. The sound carries for miles.

I’m not a lover of birds, but this one caught my eye. What brilliant coloring!

Perhaps not your typical “safari animal,” but isn’t he great. His coloring reminds me of Spiderman.

Sofie, a Masai woman, was a fabulous guide. She grew up with the Masai Mara as her backyard and knew it and its inhabitants intimately.

A picture is worth a thousand words. I thought you might like a few more photos and a lot less words. Enjoy!

I don’t even know how to describe our encounter with the wildlife that calls the Masai Mara home. Any single adjective would be the equivalent of the tip of the iceberg. I’m not sure what I expected, but I have to admit that this was beyond my wildest imagination.

The quantity and variety of wildlife was phenomenal, and we weren’t even there during the Great Migration. In retrospect, we had to laugh at one of the questions that we asked our booking agent: “will we see hippos?” Absurd. We saw droves of hippos, herds of elephants, a gazillion giraffes, and tons of gazelle, waterbuck, and topi. It got to the point where these magnificent creatures seemed almost pedestrian.

The proximity of our interaction with these majestic animals was extraordinary and palpitation worthy at times. Some of the pictures that you’ll see below are included to demonstrate how close we were. What amazed me is that the animals didn’t seem to be bothered by our presence. We learned from Sofie that they didn’t see us as 7 humans riding around in a vehicle, but one large, harmless creature.

Our timing, thanks to Sofie, was impeccable. We drove up to a pride of lions standing guard over a fresh Cape buffalo kill. We managed to spot (thanks to Dad’s eagle eye) a leopard lounging in the crook of a tree. We passed a pond as 3 gigantic hippos bounded out and stopped in surprise to see us parked there. We watched as 2 lionesses and 2 cubs feasted on a fresh warthog and then realized that the remaining 2 lionesses and the 3 littlest cubs (who had been left out of the hunt) were scampering through the tall savannah grasses toward us and their lunch. And, we drove into the middle of the fray as a cheetah patiently stalked, chased, and ultimately missed a Thompson gazelle …which I lovingly coined a “cheetah nugget.” We truly experience the daily drama of the Masai Mara up close and personal.

A male waterbuck

The kind of roadblock that you don’t mind being stopped for.

Perhaps this encounter was a bit too up close and personal. This lioness walked within 2 feet of the vehicle, which I just happened to be hanging out of to get a better shot. With palpitating heart, I quickly got all appendages back into the vehicle.

Just after she missed her “cheetah nugget”

When I dreamed about a safari I only ever thought of the wildlife we’d be seeing and not the opportunity to interact with the people who also call this paradise home. The Masai are a beautiful people…lithe, dignified, colorfully adorned, and welcoming. Over the course of the week, we had an opportunity to visit a Masai village and school, dance with Masai warriors, and help support a local women’s art and craft cooperative.

Did you know:

-Young warriors try to impress the local girls by winning the jumping contest (vertical jumping…it’s impressive to watch!)

-For the Masai, the number of cattle one owns equates to one’s wealth.

-Traditionally, the Masai are nomadic people who follow the grass and water needed to sustain their large herds of livestock

-That this is the first generation of Masai to live in settlements. We have the Masai to thank for the establishment of the Masai Mara National Reserve—a place where the king of beasts and other magnificent creatures are protected and available for the world to see.

-Historically, the Masai diet consisted only of milk, meat, and blood. Recently, development organizations have introduced gardens and veggies are beginning to populate the dinner plate.

-Masai men and women are missing their bottom, middle tooth. Both the baby tooth and adult tooth is pulled in order to provide access for “tube feeding” in case of severe illness and is also considered a sign of beauty.

-Masai villages consist of a double circle. The outer perimeter consists of a dozen or less circular huts that protect an inner, circular perimeter where the livestock are kept overnight.

I danced with Masai warriors! How cool is that!?! Three of the six nights we were at camp, the Masai provided us with interactive entertainment before dinner. I love the Masai music and by the end of the week I was singing along.

This warrior, John, was crazy…so much fun. He could make the best animal noises, which I attempted, but failed to replicate.

The Masai women we visited

Mom standing in front of a Masai hut

Laura, Mom, and I joined the ladies as they sang and danced upon our arrival to their village.

The women developed an art and craft cooperative and proudly displayed their handiwork. It was hard to not buy one of everything!

As a kid, we would spend Sunday nights sitting around the television watching National Geographic. With rapt attention we’d take a bite of our toasted cheese sandwich and watch a cheetah stalk its prey and frantic wildebeests plunge into a river filled with ravenous crocs. Since childhood, I have always dreamed of going on “safari”--- of experiencing the drama of the animal kingdom firsthand. I’m a firm believer in dreams realized, and I’m happy to say that this one was.

I’m not sure how we stumbled upon this particular outfitter, but &Beyond enabled the three of us to have the safari of a lifetime. I would change NOTHING about the experience. From the moment we flew out of Wilson airport on a 12-passenger charter to the moment that same plane bounced down a rough dirt strip in the Masai Mara to pick us up, our time was magical.

Our 7 days were spent at Kitchwa Tembo tented camp. Nestled in a grove of trees just ½ mile from the Oloololo entrance to the Masai Mara National Reserve, it was a perfect jumping off point for our twice daily game drives, and a luxurious retreat for a mid-day rest.

After 18 months of living Ethiopian-style, I was ready for a bit of pampering and luxury. I was not disappointed. Our accommodations were luxurious…and yes, they were TENTS! The mouth-watering food was abundant and the staff went above and beyond to ensure we were well taken care of. Each evening we were escorted to our tents by a bow and arrow wielding guard who took his leave with a soft “lala salama” (sleep well) and gently woken in the morning by our tent steward Simon who would call “Kristi, Kristi, wake up” as he set down a thermos of hot cocoa and a plate of cookies on the porch table. After unzipping the tent flap, I’d stumble onto the porch to find my morning mojo and a friendly giraffe munching a nearby tree. Heaven on earth!

&Beyond has done a fantastic job of creating a utopia that perfectly complements the wonders of the natural environment…this breathtaking place known as the Masai Mara.

At the entrance to Kitchwa Tembo with our fellow travelers. We were placed with the nicest group of people…Carol from London, and Matt and Laura…an American couple currently living in Bahrain.

My tent. I seriously could have lived here forever.

Mom and Dad enjoying a quiet moment on the porch of their tent

The staff was truly exceptional. I asked for peanut butter once, and never had to ask for it again. A small bowl of it was waiting next to my place setting each morning. Chef George was one of my favorites. He made dining an event. On the particular evening captured here, he whisked me behind the counter, plopped a chef’s hat on my head and gave me creative license to whip up my own tasty meal.

After trekking around Ethiopia for 2 weeks, I was so excited for our excursion to Kenya…a chance for me to be the tourist!

Upon our arrival in Nairobi, we were met by staff from &Beyond who immediately whisked us away to our hotel. The wisdom of booking an all-inclusive safari was immediately apparent to us. No haggling with taxi drivers, no negotiating the streets of Nairobi with a map and a prayer….just an effortless, stress free transition, served with a complimentary bottle of water.

Although all of us desperately desired a bit of R&R, we couldn’t be in Nairobi and not SEE Nairobi. With the help of the hotel concierge we contracted a cab for the afternoon and set off. Our destination—the Langata Giraffe Center, a sanctuary for a handful of Rothschild’s giraffes.

You may wonder why we would choose to visit an animal sanctuary when we would be spending the next 6 days in the Masai Mara. Me too. Upon my sister’s return from Kenya she couldn’t say enough about this place and insisted that we would not be disappointed. We weren’t!

Our visit to the sanctuary was fabulous. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you much about how these particular giraffes came to live at the center or anything else related to the center as I spent my entire time with the giraffes. For two hours we fed, watched, petted, and even kissed a giraffe or two. I never dreamed I would have the opportunity to interact so closely with these gentle giants on stilts. Oh…and to prove how close we were, their eyelashes are a mile long!

Mom enjoying a little 1:1 time with a friendly giraffe

Dad made this one work for a food pellet.

There probably aren’t too many people in the world that can say they’ve been kissed by a giraffe. And, in the effort to get the perfect shot, I endured this not once, but three times!

Should any of you consider a trip to Ethiopia, I would just remind you to expect the unexpected. On the morning of our 8:30am flight from Bahar Dar to Lalibela, I began receiving phone calls a touch before 7am. Given that the number was unfamiliar to me, I’m surprised that I actually answered it. I did, but nobody was there. The phone rang 4 more times and I ignored it. On the sixth ring, I picked up and was greeted by a frantic Ethiopian Airlines worker wondering where we were. Excuse me?! Our 8:30am flight had been changed and it was in the process of boarding. Unbelievable. Good thing I now live by the motto of expect the unexpected. I told them we were on the way (a bit of a fabrication) and to HOLD THE PLANE! Can you imagine doing that in the States?! We pulled into the airport and were met in the parking lot by the gate agent who personally escorted our bags into the airport and around security. Within 10 minutes we were checked in and briskly walking across the tarmac. Only in Ethiopia!

Despite our rocky start, our time in Lalibela was perfect. Lalibela, tucked into the Lasta Mountains, is such a fantastic gem. It’s unfortunate that the world knows so little about it. But, then again, maybe that is part of its charm.

I was excited to return to Lalibela for several reasons. First and foremost, the rock-hewn churches are an architectural marvel and I knew my parents would thoroughly enjoy the experience. We spent an entire day stumbling around, in, over, and under all 13 churches. Secondly, I was looking forward to seeing some of the friends that I had met during my first trip to Lalibela nearly a year ago. Much to my delight, I was warmly welcomed and greeted by name. This familiarity led us to a unique invitation…to join our tour guide and his sister for lunch at their home. At this point in the trip, Dad had had enough of injera and we were exhausted so I politely declined. But, it is not common for Ethiopians to take “no” for an answer. When I realized the chicken had already been sacrificed there was no turning back. What never ceases to amaze me is the generous spirit of Ethiopians as a whole. Regardless of how little or how much they have, they are always willing to share. The invite also enabled my parents to experience yet another quirky Ethiopian custom….the “gorsha.” To gorsha someone is to hand-feed another. By the time I realized what Destaw was intending to do, I was too late to intervene. Dad and Mom both survived an enormous gorsha. What good sports!

Tukul Village is my favorite place to stay in Lalibela. The hotel structures are built similar to the traditional two story stone home that is unique to this region of Ethiopia.

Mom stops to purchase a few trinkets from the children who linger outside the church complex.

This shot was taken pre-gorsha. I love how Ethiopians entertain guests whether their home is a one-room mud structure or something more elaborate.

Mom and Dad pose in front of the most recognizable of the Lalibela churches…Gyorgis.

In an effort to continue to experience the unadulterated Ethiopia, I chose to take Mom and Dad to Bahar Dar via public transportation….namely, the big old bus. If there was one aspect of their trip that kept me awake at night it was this. But, I honestly couldn’t come up with any less painful or safer alternative.

On the morning of our grand adventure, Tambarat graciously picked us up at 4:30am and drove us (by bajaj) to the bus station. We boarded, jockeyed and traded for suitable seats (which means one with enough leg room for Dad and for my “prone to motion sickness” Mom, a seat at the front) and then settled in for the journey. In the spectrum of my bus experiences, this one was relatively mundane. The journey was long (a touch over 6 hours), but I think they actually enjoyed the experience and more importantly, although dehydrated, stiff, and dirty we arrived alive and intact.

Our stay in Bahar Dar was short, but we utilized our time well. Unbeknownst to Mom and Dad, I had arranged for a surprise hippo excursion….something well off the beaten path. We met a friend of a friend’s nephew and blindly followed him to a remote location on the Blue Nile River. From there we boarded a rickety boat (no motor; just oars and a few strong men) and drifted downriver. Within 15 minutes we were expertly guided to a pod of 7 hippos. I must say it’s surreal to find yourself co-mingling with these magnificent creatures and difficult to remember their reputation for being one of Africa’s most aggressive residents. We watched their antics for about an hour and then began our return journey. I had wondered how our motor-less boat would be able to pass upstream through the rapids with the 4 of us and a handful of locals on board. We soon found out. One man jumped overboard (keep in mind….this is hippo territory!) and swam/pushed us to the far bank. We were then deposited on the river’s edge and told to walk while our empty boat was swum and dragged upstream. I guess the price of admission only covered a one-way ticket. What a hoot!

The 7th hippo was on guard duty and just outside the scope of this shot

If you look closely you can see the young boy (on the right edge of the herd) swimming his cattle across the river.

I have always been concerned for Abi’s health. In the time that I have known him, he hasn’t grown an inch. So, I took advantage of his unexpected arrival in DebreMarkos and invited both him and Souwnet to go to the clinic….my treat. I’m sure Abi would have much preferred some other type of treat, but he is so agreeable and willing to do whatever I ask of him. He bravely allowed himself to be examined by my friend, Dr. Iskayis, endured having his blood drawn, provided the required urine sample, but couldn’t come through with the stool sample. It was so hard to keep a straight face when he marched out of the shinta beyt, shrugged his shoulders and loudly declared, “caca yellum” (there isn’t any poop!), and “embi alle” (it’s not willing). He may not be growing, but there is nothing wrong with his sense of humor!

Abi getting his blood drawn

Abi, Souwnet, and my friend—Dr. Iskayis

Dr. Iskayis just had this clinic built, and despite that it is still under construction, he’s open for business. His wife, Hewot (who is also a nurse) gave Mom and I the grand tour. Can you imagine using a public building in the States with an unfinished (i.e. open to the elements; no protective rail) stairwell?

Killing time…Mom and Abi entertain themselves with a game of balloon.

It was so much fun showing my parents around town…and a perfect chance to capture shots that I tend not to take when I’m by myself. Seeing Ethiopia through their eyes made everything seem new, exciting, and unique again.

Dad and I standing in front of one form of public transportation. This horse should be relieved that we decided to walk!

I love getting fresh juice and this little shop is my favorite. Situated above Gigi’s store, and reached via a rickety, winding, exterior staircase it not only serves up a tasty treat, but also serves as a great vantage point for people watching.

The Gojam rural people have their own unique sense of style. You can easily identify these men as hailing from Gojam by their short shorts and great caps.

Mom quickly learned how to become an instant hit with the kids…snap their picture and then show them. Oh, the power of a digital camera!

Although, the vast majority of Ethiopians in my town are Orthodox, there is a small percentage of Muslims. Mom and Dad are standing in front of our beautiful, and quite large, mosque.

My life in Ethiopia is such a trip and I’m so glad that my parents were able to experience the real deal. In our 5½ days in town, we had water once and power twice! We hand washed clothes, hauled water, burned trash in the street, hosted my neighbor kids for game day, washed dishes crouched on a small stool, walked EVERYWHERE, ate by candlelight, and cooked by headlamp. No special accommodations—just pure, unadulterated Ethiopian life.

Bonding with Ava.

Dad burning trash. Everything I do draws a crowd and Dad got to experience that first hand.

Mom provided a helping hand with dishwashing duty.

There is always something happening on my compound. Here, Mom is helping Aselef pound the husk off of the kernels of wheat.

A visit to Ethiopia wouldn’t be complete without trying your hand at making injera. As Mom found out, there is a bit of technique involved.

Aselef couldn’t disguise her astonished reaction when Dad requested a turn at injera making. This is NOT men’s work. Ironically, Dad’s technique was superior to Mom’s!

I spend a significant portion of my “free time” dealing with water these days and this week was no exception. Fortunately, we have a well on the compound. Unfortunately, the water is a good 25-30 feet down.

I just had to show off my prowess at Dutch oven baking.

Hand washing clothes is hard work, but Mom was up for the challenge.

Exhausted after hauling water and washing clothes, Mom and I decided we deserved a break!

My neighborhood kids, who attend my Friday afternoon program, were so excited to meet my parents. And, desperately hoping for a sweet treat from America. They didn’t leave disappointed.

I can confidently say that my Ethiopian friends were just as excited to meet my parents, as my parents were excited to meet them. I had anticipated a couple of invites for lunches or dinners, but the outpouring of invitations and repeat invitations was unreal. The menu I had planned for our 5 ½ days in town was whittled down to breakfasts and two dinners!

We visited Souwnet and Abi (he and his grandmother traveled for 5 hours in order to meet my parents), Gigi and Tambarat, Belete and Hannah, Aselef and Getachew, and Hapti. It was great that everyone enjoyed each other’s company, but I have to admit that by the end of the week I was exhausted. Constant translating is HARD WORK! Every once in awhile Gigi or Mom would look at me quizzically and then I would realize that I was translating in the wrong language for the wrong person. Talk about feeling discombobulated! Fortunately, a smile and a hug require no translation!

Gigi and Tambarat love to play cards. I’m so glad that I taught them how to play one of my parents’ favorite games (3 to Kings) as it became something we could easily do together (and required no translating on my part!)

Mom, Me, my good friend Hannah and her girls (Yordanos and Tsion)

Despite my plea of “no gifts,” Hannah and Belete gifted my parents with a traditional Ethiopian painting on hide.

Hapti considers my parents his parents and greeted my mom with a “Hi, Mom” and a gigantic hug.

Gigi did her best to fatten everyone up and she does not take “no thanks” for an answer. Here we are dining on baked spaghetti in the middle of her shop.

Seeing Abi was as much of a treat for me as it was for my parents. I had NO IDEA that he and his grandmother would be making the trip to DebreMarkos.

Souwnet, too, went against my plea for no gifts. Doesn’t Dad look great in his Habesha hat?

Mom and Dad with Souwnet, her mother (Addis), a cousin, and Abi. As you can tell, he is NOT camera shy.

I recently received a card from my sister that said, “Mom is GLOWING and Dad is RAVING” about their trip. Now, I must be honest…I’m not sure either one of them would have used those adjectives during their 2 week Ethiopian adventure, but I can see why they would say that in retrospect. It was an amazing, once-in-a-lifetime adventure for all of us. Travel in Ethiopia is not for the faint of heart…and I’m proud to say that when the going got tough, my parents were able to keep up.

Our adventure began with me arriving late to the airport….already off-program. During my 18 months in country I have never seen so many people trying to get into the airport. Why tonight??? As I skirted one security line and people-hopped in another (for the record I NEVER using my farenji status for special privileges…until tonight) I frantically hoped that they would remember the childhood rule that was pounded into us as kids, “if you get lost….just STAY PUT!” I finally arrived to find them “patiently” parked in the middle of the arrivals lobby behind a mountain of luggage. My mom has been a faithful care package sender, but why send packages when you have a 200-pound luggage allotment??!!

I had hoped that by being a brilliant logistician my parents would not have to suffer through a litany of lessons on patience their first day (perhaps MOMENTS would be more apropos) in country. Not only did I arrive late, but also lost my cab driver…hence an awkward 15 minute wait while I assured my father that the cabbie would eventually return to his car. We arrived at our “luxurious” one star government hotel (which I made even more affordable by asking the “bell-hop” to throw a mattress on the floor for me) and sat down for the first of many cultural lessons. After 24 hours in route it probably wasn’t the most “teachable moment,” but they endured. Watching my Dad practice the “triple cheek kiss,” listening over and over to Mom’s tongue tied (she gets an “A” for effort) rendition of “Amasayganalahoo” (i.e. thank you) and my demonstration of the toilet squat was the perfect beginning to what has proved to be a hilarious (given your perspective) Ethiopian adventure.

Our journey to DebreMarkos was done in fine style. I decided to go easy on their first Ethio-road trip and rented a Land Cruiser (complete with driver). Million (our driver) was worth a million. He stopped for inane photos, patiently smiled and waited so that Mom could listen to the symphony created by donkeys carting eucalyptus leaves and branches as they trotted down Entoto Mountain, stopped at fruit shacks so we could load up, and even squeezed in a coffee break for Dad. I have to admit, that was money well spent!

As we rolled into town, I couldn’t have asked for a better welcome. My neighborhood kids poured out of their respective houses as we proceeded down the hill and waited, breathless, outside of my compound for the first sight of “white haired farenjis.” Desperately wanting to rest, we entered the compound to find Mom and Dad’s very first bunna ceremony ready and waiting. Today, and everyday from here forward, there will be no rest for the weary! WELCOME TO ETHIOPIA, MOM and DAD!

As I sit staring at the map of Ethiopia that is plastered to my wall, I’m amazed and disappointed with how little I’ve actually seen of this country. I know the Amhara region well, but have hardly stepped outside of it. In an effort to get to know Ethiopia a bit better, Megan and I boarded yet another bus bound for Awassa…a city situated approximately 275 km south of Addis Ababa and the capital of the Southern Nations, Nationalities’, and Peoples’ region.

Our journey by mini-bus took us through the Great Rift Valley. A valley that earns its prestige as the largest geographical feature on the continent…and for you historical buffs, was the only feature visible to the astronauts who first landed on the moon. As our mini-bus hurtled down the road, for the first time I felt like I was in Africa. The South is SO different from the North. For as far as the eye can see, there are expansive landscapes dotted with huts, liberally sprinkled with acacia trees and bodies of water, that eventually kiss the feet of softly rising mountains. If I were to close my eyes, it would be easy to imagine a herd of zebra or kudu roaming the plains where now there are only run-of-the-mill cattle and scrawny sheep.

After 6 hours we arrived in the lakeside town of Awassa. My first impression…..HOT! My second impression….CLEAN! What a treat to be in a town that doesn’t struggle with a lack of water.

Our agenda for the weekend was to eat good food, relax, and explore (and yes, in that order!) Our hotel, situated on the lake, became a perfect haven for the R&R aspect of our vacation as well as our best wildlife-viewing venue. Monkeys outnumbered humans 2 to 1 and provided hours of cheap entertainment. Their audacious antics were amusing for us, the guests, but an annoyance for the staff. All meals were served with a side of stick….that is, a monkey whacking stick. As I watched the monkeys pilfer bottles of Pepsi and snatch treats from unsuspecting patrons, I could almost hear them snicker and taunt, “keep your eyes on your fries!”

Our wildlife highlight occurred on our walk back from the hotel restaurant to our cabin. It was pitch dark and the light from my headlamp was casting but a sliver of illumination when an Ethiopian man approached us from behind our cabin. Cause for alarm…maybe. But considering Megan and I dwarfed him by a good foot and a fair number of pounds, we decided to hear him out. He was speaking only Amharic and when my pounding heart slowed enough to hear above the din, I heard two words… “gumare” and “ahun”. Translation—hippo…NOW! We followed closely on his heels and found ourselves within 20 yards of a young hippo moseying and munching his way down the shoreline. All reasonable thought vanished. All warnings of hippos being aggressive creatures and the leading cause of human death vanished as we quietly crouched in its presence. What a magnificent animal! What a surreal life I am living! I now KNOW I live in Africa!

Our only full day in town was spent eating and exploring, which we did with gusto. We roamed every aisle of the market while bargaining the socks off the sellers for trinkets that I’ll probably wonder what to do with when I return to the States. And we ate! When good food comes your way but once in a blue moon, hunger is inconsequential and calorie counting is prohibited. We ate a slice of Black Forest cake at the Pinna Hotel, washed it down with a fresh juice, devoured an ice cream cone purchased for us by two kind American military guys, treated ourselves to an amazing Italian dinner at La Dolce Vita, and tested out onion rings at the Pink Burger. The onion ring snack turned out to be quite the adventure. The Pink Burger, striving to look like an American Fast food joint, invested in a dazzling sign that advertised big juicy burgers and golden onion rings. As signs are meant to do, it lured us in. When we placed our order for onions rings and the waitress looked at us quizzically we knew there was a problem. But, Megan is not one to back down from a challenge. She firmly grasped the waitress by the arm, hauled her to the street, and pointed at the magnificent pictorial rendition of the perfect onion ring. Well we got our onion rings…they were neither big, nor beautiful, and I question whether an onion even lurked within the glob of fried dough. So much for truth in advertising!

Travel in Ethiopia is rarely restful or hassle-free, but it is always full of adventure. I just wish that a simple “weekend” excursion didn’t require 28 hours of bus travel! It’s going to be awhile before I venture out again. I need a chance to recover from my vacation!

Lake Awassa

Megan and I

They’re cute AND pesky!

Our charming little cabin.

We completely wore this man out with our highly advanced bargaining powers.

I’ve become a scarf girl. I just can’t stop buying them.

Oh, I just love the things that you see here that you would never see in the States.

Ok, one of those purchases that I know I will regret. Megan talked me into this, because “we can get a better price for two than for just one.” An example of bargaining skills gone awry. Where in the world am I going to wear this thing????

As a cultural ambassador I often find that it is important to identify commonalities. Differences are dividing and it becomes easy to fall into the us/them trap. Regardless of our nationality or skin color or geographical address we are all still part of the human race. We have fears and frustrations, struggles and triumphs, dreams and hopes. Our access to resources may be different, but that doesn’t mean our desires are. We all want to feel safe. We all want to have a full belly. We all want happiness.

The current economic crisis in the States has not gone unnoticed here. Although on different scales, it has been a source of commonality that resonates with my Ethiopian friends. I love how my friend, Tadeseh, so eloquently described our similar situation…. “poorness has come to our pockets!” Well said, Tadeseh!

I’ve come to the conclusion that the American way of celebrating certain holidays must be seen as absolutely ridiculous to the rest of the world…and completely unexplainable. How does one explain leaving a plate of cookies for Santa on Christmas Eve or hunting for Easter eggs presumably laid by a bunny? If anyone could help me out, I’d sure appreciate it. In the meantime, I continue to try to share some of the nuances of our culture…as silly as they are. This year, I introduced PEEPS…the nasty, sugary, bright-yellow candy chicks that make their appearance one time a year. Fortunately my group of kiddos could care less about the significance (or really the insignificance) of this typical Easter candy. They simply inhaled their chick and asked for more.

When I’ve asked about what I consider to be an unusual Ethiopian tradition, I am simply told “its culture” and nothing more. Perhaps when it comes to Santa Claus, the Easter bunny, the tooth fairy, Valentine’s Day, and trick-or-treat I should adopt the same strategy. There are just some things that warrant no further explanation.

When I first met my friend and fellow PCV, Eden, I vividly remember thinking “I must do everything within my power to keep my feet from looking like his!!” Eden had already been living in Africa for a year and his feet had taken a beaten. Dry heat, dirt roads, limited water, and sandals everyday do not lead to feet as soft (or even as clean) as a baby’s bottom. Megan and I promptly coined this phenomenon the “African foot” and set out to design a prevention program. As a physical therapist there is nothing that I hate more than nasty feet…especially if they’re my own!

Despite pumice stones, foot files and graters, extra thick lotion, plastic bags, and a nailbrush it’s amazing how quickly I can begin to lose the battle. I suspect that despite my daily “anti-African foot” routine, I will carry a bit of Ethiopian soil and grime in the soles of my feet long after I no longer call this place home.

When a group of us gets together a “foot program” is always on the agenda. There is nothing better than the combination of a cup of cocoa, good conversation (in English!), and a pedi program.

I never dreamed I would move to Ethiopia and write a blog post on the joys of potty training. But, these pictures are just too cute to pass up. Ava, at the ripe old age of 9 MONTHS, is not quite sure what to make of all this. She’s more interested in exploring her environment via placing anything and everything in her mouth, than taking care of business on the pot….but who am I to interfere. I just keep my mouth shut and do my best to serve as photographer in residence.

Given that diapers are a luxury here (and aren’t even sold in my town), I can understand Genet’s desire to get this potty training show on the road.

I can just hear Ava thinking… “You want me to do what?!”

It’s safe to say she’s had enough of this experiment!

Oh what I wouldn’t give for the Jolly Green Giant to pay me a visit. I never dreamed I would CRAVE vegetables. I was the kid who hated veggies. I’d pick mushrooms off the pizza, swallow peas whole so as to avoid my tongue coming into contact with their nasty taste, turn my nose up at brussels sprouts, and only eat cauliflower if it was smothered in cheese. The pinnacle of my anti-veggie stand came when I proudly announced at the dinner table one evening, that I would rather eat a night crawler than another bite of the veggie du jour. Of course my bluff was called and my brother was promptly sent outdoors to find said night crawler. Given that my Dad was an avid (borderline fanatic) fisherman, night crawlers were always on hand and within minutes a long, fat, juicy night crawler was baiting my fork. I sat at the table long after the family was done with dinner that evening, debating the potential taste of night crawler versus the known nasty taste of the veggie. In the end, the veggie proved more palatable.

Fast forward some 20 odd years and here I sit lamenting the fact that my veggie selection is so limited. I dream about broccoli, crave a cuc, wax poetic on the attributes of zucchini and would give my right arm for a bunch of green beans. I finally decided to take matters into my own hands. I’ve proven to have quite the green thumb when it comes to flowers, but would my luck hold for veggies? I sent an urgent email home with a request for seeds and solicited help from the troops on my compound to prepare the soil. I even personally walked the fields collecting cow poop by hand (desperate times call for desperate measures!). I started the seeds in small pots, celebrated when the first glimpse of green peeked above the soil, carefully transplanted, and faithfully watered. The folks on my compound even began referring to my zucchini, yellow squash, and cucumber plants as “Kristi’s kids”. After weeks of waiting (and salivating), I wound up with ONE yellow squash! Talk about a crushing blow both to my ego and menu. I’m just hoping that my failure is due more to conditions (perhaps zucchinis do not find the high altitude, scorching sun, and cool nights suitable) than my gardening prowess.

Although I’m resigned to the fact that cucs, zucchini and squash aren’t going to grace my dinner plate anytime soon, I am wondering how sautéed zinnias and daisies might taste over a bed of rice? They find the Ethiopian climate extremely suitable and are growing in abundance!

Like a proud parent, I just had to take a picture of my beautiful squash.

Cleome is my new favorite flower and I have to thank my Cherry St. neighbor, Mary, for introducing me to them. They have grown extremely well on Ethiopian soil!

If there is one thing I can say about Peace Corps it is that the medical support is amazing. When we head out to site we are armed with a medical manual chock full of interesting tidbits about diseases that we hope never to contract and a kit full of medications, ointments and other paraphernalia to treat a host of ailments…both the mundane and the exotic. I remember when I first met our medical officer, Burdett (whom we affectionately call “Burdie”), I greeted her with a smile and a “you won’t hear much from me, I’m as healthy as a horse!” Little did I know that Burdett and I would get to know each other so well. When I woke in the middle of the night with what eventually proved to be my gallbladder acting up, she was the cheery voice on the other end of the line. She has been with us since the beginning…a voice of reason, an empathetic ear, and a heart of understanding. She encourages, she treats, she problem-solves, and most importantly she cares. As she prepares for her next journey, we prepare to survive without her. I’m not sure it is possible! Burdie…you will be greatly missed!

For whatever reason, a group of us all happened to be in Addis at the same time. A perfect time for an impromptu going away party for Burdett!

Burdie and Me.

I truly have never been so sick, so frequently in all my life. My head loves Ethiopia, but my gut does not. What is crazy is that I am sooooo careful. I only drink purified or bottled water, I refuse food that is cold, I don’t eat raw veggies unless they’ve been soaked in a bleach solution, and I hand sanitize like there is no tomorrow. One would think that after 10 years of working in healthcare (hospitals to be specific), I would have built up some type of super-immunity. Instead I’m like Superman to kryptonite.

Fortunately I have found my miracle cure (as prescribed by my fabulous medical officers, of course!). It comes in the form of a little white pill, which I like to call my new best friend…otherwise known as Ciproflaxin, or Cipro. I now don’t go anywhere (even into town) without a 3-day course in my bag. But should I run out or accidentally leave it behind, all I have to do is stop into my friendly neighborhood pharmacy, ask for six 500mg tablets of Cipro (no prescription necessary) and shell out a whopping 45 cents. The lack of regulation on medications at the pharmacy is a bit frightening, but when I get hit by one of these bugs I’m glad Cipro is as easy to buy as candy.

A trip wouldn’t be complete without at least one good bus story to share. After hitchhiking to Gundwegn, we realized we couldn’t be choosy about our next destination. Originally we had wanted to go to Mertolemariam to visit a friend. But, considering the daylight hours were waning, we decided we’d hop in whichever bus came along first. Hence, we found ourselves squeezed like sardines onto a bus headed toward Mota. Smith was shuffled to the back and I found myself on the platform above the engine sitting Indian style and facing backward. I really just wanted to close my eyes and let my mind drift as at this point I was on Ethiopia overload. That, however, was not meant to be. What ensued is what Smith describes as the most ridiculous conversation she has ever overheard. Over the roar of the bus engine and through the 3 people squeezed between this man and I, I had the pleasuring of participating in the following chat.

Random Dude: “have you see the ICELAND?”

Me: Excuse ME?

Random Dude: You know, the ICELAND in Lake Tana. Have you been?

ME: (What in the world is he talking about????? OH….does he mean island? Crap, I don’t know the Amharic word for island.) “Ummm..do you mean the land in the lake?”

Random Dude; YES! (said, while practically jumping up and down from excitement). The ICELAND!

ME: “I think you mean ISLAND”

Random Dude: Yes…ICELAND!

ME: (I should really just let this go, but I can’t have this dude accosting another unsuspecting foreigner with this ridiculous and completely random conversation). NO…it’s “eye-land”.

Random Dude: Huh? ICELAND?

ME: No, sir, It’s iiiiiiiii-land!!!!!!!

At that point I was fed up and he was thoroughly confused. Truly the most ridiculous, frustrating, random, pointless, and in retrospect, hilarious conversation I’ve had yet! These are the moments when I think, how in the world did I end up here?!?!

When I thought through the logistics of visiting Abi, I didn’t spend much time thinking about what would happen when we returned to the dusty, dirt road in the middle of nowhere. I never anticipated the reality of being somewhere without a bus station or even routine traffic. So, there we stood, along with 50 other hopeful souls. What we learned from our fellow roadside squatters is that we had three chances of getting out of Dodge…the bus from DebreMarkos (which would roll through sometime around 10am), the bus from Bichena (unpredictable arrival), and the bus from Addis, which if we were lucky would come through no later than 2pm. From that I surmised that our chances were poor at best. What is the likelihood that enough passengers are going to choose to get off the bus in the middle of nowhere to create space for us? And, what are my chances of beating out the other 50 people who all seem to be heading in the same direction as I?

After standing roadside for approximately an hour, the Bichena bus rolled through. We elbowed with the best of them to make our way to the front of the crush only to discover that the bus was not heading to our destination of choice. The ticket taker assured us that the DebreMarkos bus would be arriving shortly and it was heading to our destination. In retrospect, we should have just elbowed our way aboard, but we didn’t. And as luck would have it, the DebreMarkos bus vanished into thin air much like ships traveling through the Bermuda triangle. Feeling a bit desperate and having no desire to sleep alongside the road, we decided to become a bit more aggressive with our approach and a lot less selective. While I guarded our bags, Smith stood in the road with the goal of flagging down any moving vehicle heading north. Two large transport trucks came along shortly and rumbled by as if she were wearing Harry’s invisibility cloak. Perhaps two are better than one? I asked Souwnet to guard our stuff, and joined Smith roadside…or rather roadmiddle. Much to our delight, the next truck to pass through stopped (it was either that or run us over!). Smith clambered aboard, confirmed that they were at least traveling as far as the next town, and without negotiating a price (we knew we’d empty our purses if he asked), we all piled in. Within minutes we had struck up a conversation with Tesfaye (the driver) and learned that he knew of our friend Kristina. What a small world. Tesfaye not only safely brought us to the next town, but refused to accept payment and even bought us lunch. I am truly humbled by the kindness of strangers!

Me standing roadside, “patiently” waiting for a ride north.

The bus we should have elbowed our way onto.

If I didn’t see so many of these trucks crashed and bashed alongside the roads, I would travel this way more often.

This was truly a massive truck.

Ironically, when we rolled into Gundwegn, Souwnet just happened to spot her 15 year old brother, Sintiyew, who lives and attends school there during the week. It was fun to get to know him and a nice surprise for Souwnet.

Wednesday dawned bright and sunny, but my disposition was more on the overcast end of the spectrum. Even before arriving in Abi’s community I was dreading my departure. I have always hated “good-byes”, but I knew this would be one of the hardest.

Smith and I entered the gojo beyt for breakfast and discovered Abi hunched over a plate of injera, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Addis and Souwnet tried to make excuses for him, but I knew better. He was trying to be a little man and keep the tears at bay, which only encouraged mine to start flowing. I picked at my 1-egg breakfast and tried to find the silver lining in what was proving to be a day chock full of clouds. But sometimes the silver lining is beyond our capability to see or determine. Instead we must just trust that it does in fact exist.

As I slung the backpack over my shoulder and headed down the hill, I allowed myself one last wave and glimpse of the kiddo who just happens to have stolen my heart.

Addis (Abi’s grandmother), Souwnet, Abi, and a cousin (on the far left)

Heading out.

By Tuesday morning Abi had warmed up, cleaned up, and was nearly back to the little boy I remembered. As we sat in the gojo beyt eating our breakfast of fur-fur (soggy injera served with a side of injera) Smith and I overheard snippets of conversation. The phrases hike to Gundwgn, pasta, sleep in hotel clued us in to the fact that we needed to figure out what was going on. Well, the powers that be had decided that Souwnet should hike to Gundwgn this morning to buy pasta for our lunch and then we would hike to Gundwgn in the evening so that we could sleep in the comfort of a quarter star hotel. I need to inform you that hiking to Gundwgn is a 2.5 hour trip one-way. I also should share that pasta is a luxury and not part of their routine diet. We quickly intervened and assured them that we were happy to eat what they eat and to sleep where they sleep. The fact that they were going to do whatever it took to make sure our stay was enjoyable was humbling, but completely unnecessary. We truly just wanted to be a part of the family and I believe in the end they welcomed us as such.

That doesn’t mean that we still weren’t the odd man out. If you ever want to truly be able to empathize with the creatures at the zoo, you need to spend a day in a gebaray community. At one point, Smith and I just needed some downtime—a moment where we weren’t the center of attention. We hauled the barley mattress out of the gojo beyt and sought out a shady spot to read, journal, and catch a nap. After a brief respite, I sensed the presence of others and looked up to discover 75+ school kids circled around us. Some standing, others sitting, but all quiet and content to just soak in the view of us. They whispered amongst themselves, pointed on occasion at something we were doing, mimicked sounds and gestures that we unconsciously made, and continued to inch closer and closer. I gave up journaling and decided an impromptu “program” was in order. Smith and I decided to teach them how to “make rain”…an activity that I used to do at summer camp. We rubbed our hands, snapped our fingers, slapped our thighs and created quite the storm. Our rainmaking program seemed to be a big hit, although, I’m not quite certain they understood exactly what it was that we were doing!

Another highlight of our day was watching the men work with the oxen to separate the kernels of teff from the shaft. Previously, during my walks into the rural area, I had come across giant circles of trampled earth that up until this point have mystified me. I now have witnessed the circle-makers in action. It’s truly amazing how these men have trained the oxen to walk shoulder to shoulder in such a tight circle for hours on end. I truly could have sat and watched this process all day until I realized that I was holding up the show. I had been taking pictures (as well as video), when I realized that the entire operation had come to a halt…including the oxen. Talk about obliging. The man in charge stopped everything and positioned the oxen just so so that I could capture the perfect shot.

Before we knew it our last day with Abi was drawing to a close and I decided that I had better begin preparing him for my departure. Throughout the afternoon I attempted to remind him that I would be leaving early in the morning. For a 3 year old, he’s got the “denial” coping strategy down to a science. Each time I brought up my departure he would respond with “so…tomorrow, what will we play?” Oh, if only I could just scoop him up and whisk him away!

Some of the school kids and a rather tall Ethiopian woman who was desperate to have her photo taken!

Just some of the gebaray boys who spend their days guarding the family herd. I was dismayed to discover that none of the kids attend school. When I questioned them as to why, they responded with “because we are farmers.”

One of the many shots I captured of the threshing process.

The gojo beyt was a hive of activity from the moment we arrived to the second we left. Everyone had to come and have bunna with the farenji. That being said, in one day we consumed 6 cups of bunna and 4 cups of tea!

Abi consumed his share as well. He ate like a horse the entire time we were there, but I suspect that this amount and regularity of food isn’t always available to him. From my estimation he hasn’t grown at all in 6 months time. If anything, he is smaller.

Abi thoroughly enjoyed the toys that I brought for him (thank you, Roz!)

Abi even had to share his toy with the old men.

The camera, as usual, was a big hit.

As I sit down to write about my experience to visit Abi, I’m overwhelmed. I am not sure that I am capable of finding words that can capture the essence of this trip…what it meant to me, the emotional cost it exacted, or the indescribable beauty of this place and these people. Many of you know that when I returned from being Stateside last October, I discovered that Abi was gone. His mother, Souwnet, was given a choice—lose the child or lose the job. Souwnet did what she had to do and took Abi to live with her mother in a community hours away from DebreMarkos. I was devastated to lose him, angry to hear of the choice she had to make, and at a loss as to how to help. I also truly thought that I would never see him again.

In February, I decided to make seeing Abi a reality rather than just a hope. I worked with Souwnet to obtain days away from work (KB’s Assertiveness Training) and then attempted to deal with logistics. The first of which was to determine exactly where Abi was and whether or not it was feasible for us (Smith, my sitemate, and I) to visit. Souwnet initially began by telling us that Abi lived in Mota, a decent sized town about 6 hours by bus from DebreMarkos. The next time I saw her, I confirmed. “So, we’re going to Mota?” Nope. It is at this point that I’m told that Abi actually lives in Gundwgn. I searched and searched my table-sized map (circa 1995) and couldn’t find anything called “Gundwgn” within a forearm’s circumference from Mota. I decided it would be best if Souwnet showed me. On her next visit to the house, I stood her in front of the map, and asked her to point in the general vicinity of Gundwgn. I’m pretty sure that this was the first time Souwnet had ever seen a map of her country. She was unable to locate our current position let alone the tiny little berg of Gundwgn. It was then that she decided Abi didn’t live in Gundwgn, but “nearby.” I gave up with needing to know specifically where we were headed, but instead settled on what we would be getting ourselves into. My questions started with the following: 1) do we reach Abi’s house by foot or by transport? (answer= transport), 2) Is this a town or rural area? (answer= town), Do we stay in a hotel or in Abi’s house? (answer= hotel). As it turned out none of the answers were correct! I’m not sure if it was a “lost in translation” moment or if Souwnet was deliberately softening her answers to ensure that we would still come. When I joined Peace Corps, I signed up for the “adventure of a lifetime.” Souwnet has definitely done her part to ensure that that holds true!

Fortunately I have good instincts. My premonition that we were being told half-truths led to a re-packing the night prior to our departure. We did not pack light, but we were prepared for any eventuality. Given that neither Smith nor I have a sleeping bag here, we threw in a set of sheets, 2 blankets, and a camp mat. We also carted our steri-pens (water purifiers), snacks, baby wipes (for the waterless sponge bath), Peaceful Sleep (this wonderful lotion that seems to keep the fleas at bay), and what I like to call “Burdett in a bag”—our amazing supply of medications for any ailment.

Monday we set out. The bus ride was truly uneventful—one of the first. We traveled for approximately 3 hours when Souwnet indicated that we had reached our destination. Our “destination” turned out to be a dusty hilltop collection of mud and stick shacks alongside a dirt road in what felt like the middle of nowhere. I naturally assumed this was where Abi lived. Nope. While Souwnet flitted about greeting friends and distance relations (big city girl returns to the sticks), Smith and I camped out in a tea house and ‘patiently’ waited. After an hour and a half our social butterfly decided it was time to head out. Our party of three, now a caravan of thirteen, headed out into the hills as Souwnet kindly reassured us that it wasn’t far. After 20 minutes of hiking in the heat of the day, I started with my first “are we there yet?” Like a parent toting kids on a family vacation, Souwnet promptly returned with “almost…just a little further.” After 90 minutes of trudging up hills, down hills, over creeks, through fields, and between herds of cattle and sheep we finally arrived…dehydrated, sun burnt, and exhausted (my nasty sinus infection did not help matters!).

I was so taken in with the idyllic setting that at first I didn’t even notice Abi standing among a collection of toddlers and young kiddos without an adult in sight. Other than the grubby, way too small, knitted blue pants and shirt I had given him, it was difficult to accept that this was indeed the spirited, clever, bubbly kid that was whisked away from DebreMarkos in October. The gebaray life is a hard one and unfortunately it is visible even on the faces of the youngest.

While we waited for Abi’s grandmother to return from parts unknown, Smith and I took a moment to take in our surroundings. Abi’s tiny little community is located on a gentle slope rising from the end of a long narrow valley. It consists of a primary school (which serves the population of the entire valley), 3 gojo beyts (the traditional round mud huts with thatched roof), a handful of government houses (square mud/stick house, but with a tin roof), and a wufcha beyt (mill) that is run off of diesel. The only water source is a small lazy creek that serves both man and beast and there is no electricity. We were pleasantly surprised, though, to find an outhouse (yes, only one for the community) located about a football field away from the congregation of houses.

Addis (Abi’s grandmother) eventually returned, warmly welcomed us as if we were long lost family, and graciously invited us into her home—our first gojo beyt. This is the same house that Souwnet and her brother grew up in and the place of Abi’s birth. As I ducked through the doorway, I was transported into another world much like Alice in Wonderland. It was an assault on the senses. Save for the doorway we entered through there was no other source of light. To the left was an elevated platform for sleeping and below a storage area. Ringing half of the main living space was a mud ledge approximatlely 12 inches off the ground that served as seating and workspace. In the middle, taking up most of the available floor space, was a fire pit emitting caustic black smoke that made our eyes water and our throats constrict. And, in addition to Addis and Abi, their beyt was shared with 2 hens, 5 chicks and the detritus that accompanies feathered friends. I truly had a laugh out loud moment when I saw the chickens. As a kid growing up on the farm, I vividly remember my Dad saying how dirty the chicken coop was and to try to avoid breathing that air. Abi and his grandmother, out of necessity, are cooking, eating, and sleeping alongside their chickens. What a different world!

Our first day in the community flew by. Our time was spent drinking coffee, visiting with the endless parade of guests that just had to stop by and meet the ‘farenji’ (we were the first to ever visit their community!), popping out of the gojo beyt for a breath of fresh air, entertaining the kids, and bathing Abi via creek water from a jerry can. Before we knew it nightfall was upon us and our sleeping accommodations were yet unknown. As we sat in the gojo beyt earlier in the day the thought did cross my mind that there was not even enough floor space for me to stretch out without being half in the fire pit. Not to worry. Addis was way ahead of us and had found a young agricultural worker who was willing to give up his room. Much to our surprise (and elation) we actually slept in a real bed!

As we settled in for the night, it hit me how amazing, unique, and surreal this experience is. I suspect that there aren’t many foreigners who have experienced this side of Ethiopia. I truly am blessed to have Ethiopian friends from all walks of life who graciously and unabashedly invite me into their hearts and homes.

Heading out into the unknown. No road or path to follow. Thankgoodness we are traveling with Souwnet!

A view of Abi’s community

Yes! An outhouse!! Truly a cause for celebration.

Bathtime

Souwnet, Abi, a cousin, Smith, Me

Abi in front of his home

Inside the gojo beyt, Souwnet and her mom, Addis, work to prepare us a snack

I love to capture shots that reflect true Ethiopian life. These shots center around the Geberay…a word used to describe those people who live in the rural areas and whose livelihood is via subsistence farming. I love the geberay people. As a whole, I find them to be extremely hard working, resourceful, resilient, and a bit shy. What I most love is that they haven’t yet adopted the annoying chant of "you, you" and "you, money" that many of the townsfolk (especially the children) have.

The geberay people of the Amhara region are distinctive. From their demeanor to their dress, they stand out in a crowd. The men are clad in short shorts, carry long sticks, and often have no shoes. Their strength and endurance is not assumed it is visible. The women and girls routinely wear pleated dresses, have extremely short hair (its just not practical to have long hair), wear no shoes, and are adorned with facial (primarily chin and neck), wrist, and ankle tattoos.

These shots capture some of the young geberay hard at work. Their work is endless. From sun-up to sundown they work to survive. Any excess is sold to purchase necessities that can’t be home grown. The young men in the photos (the walking haystacks) are carting loads of "chid" which is the shaft of the wheat and/or teff. The chid sells for about 30birr a bundle (roughly 3USD) and is eventually added to mud to be used as house construction material. The women, on the other hand are hauling kubet---or what I like to call "crap cakes" and "poop patties." Kubet is used as a fuel source, which as far as I’m concerned is a much better alternative than continuing to decimate the tree population. The contents of one basket sell for about 15birr (roughly 1.50USD). For both the men and women (I should probably say boys and girls as well), there is a lot of labor that goes into these two products and yet what they reap is minimal.

As an aside, I tend to take the Geberay folk by surprise. For many, I’m the first foreigner that they’ve ever seen. After our walk, Genet and I were sitting at a cafe along the route that many of these folks take to market. I thought I was rather hidden given that I was tucked into a corner, but I guess that was not the case. One man riding by on a horse at a pretty decent clip must have caught a fleeting glimpse of me. Instead of reining in his horse to take a better look, he just kept turning backward (while the horse kept moving forward) and nearly unseated himself. A truly laugh out loud moment!

Sometimes one just needs to take a step back (or in this case ‘UP’) to gain a bit of perspective. Since I tend to go most everywhere on foot, it’s been hard to get a true sense of this place I call home. My view is either obstructed by my umbrella (which not only serves as a sun shield, but comes in handy as a people shield as well) or is limited due to the fact that my eyes tend to be focused on the ground to ensure that my next step isn’t the one that makes me even more of a human spectacle. On the rare occasion that I’m traveling through town via some sort of motorized transport, my thoughts are never on "the view" but rather on my safety. I often have a white-knuckled grip on the "roll-bar" of the bajaj while my friend Tambarat drives helter-skelter through town dodging large trucks, other bajajs, stray dogs, oblivious children, and the occasional wayward donkey.

That being said, I decided one Saturday morning to do something about this lack of perspective. I had previously noticed what looked to be the perfect vantage point on a hill opposite the town and I wasn’t disappointed. Now I truly understand why my lungs are always working double-time! There is hardly a level surface here!

A view of my town. In the lower left region of the picture you’ll notice the white spire of the town mosque. My neighborhood sits a little lower than the mosque and about a º mile to the left. I truly am at the bottom of town…which has turned out to be quite fortuitous as we are the last neighborhood to run out of water. Another orienting landmark in this picture is the Shebel Hotel, which is the white structure nearly at the center of the photo.

In the far left corner of this photo, you should be able to pick out the Shebel Hotel as a reference point. As you can see, this isn’t a small town, but actually one that is quite sprawling. I always want to laugh when the PC staff calls to notify us of a "village visit." Cute and catchy, but far from accurate.

If you haven’t figured it out by now, I love trees and am always on the lookout for a unique one.

Yes, another fun tree picture. With the town at my back, undulating hills extend for as far as the eye can see and eventually meet the feet of the Choke Mountain range.

Genet served as my exploring partner for the day.

Some people have asked, "why don’t you have more pictures of you on your blog? Well…hopefully this picture provides some insight. Basic photography skills are something that "we" are working on!

This University student has the right idea. What a perfect study spot!

During the months of January and February Cupid takes a rest and sits back to watch the outcome of his well-aimed arrows. He dons his best and joins every other Ethiopian in town for wedding after wedding after wedding.

On Sundays the streets are filled with well-dressed people either coming from or going to a wedding celebration and the air is filled with the honking of horns as each bridal party circles the town in a procession of rickety cars and mini-buses garishly bedecked with ribbons and plastic flowers.

Recently, I attended my second Ethiopian wedding. Although I am by no means an expert on the traditions, I will do my best to describe what I saw on this particular day and what I have learned via my married Ethiopian friends.

There is a trend these days for many Ethiopian weddings to have a very Western feel. The bride wears a traditional white dress (usually rented) and the bridesmaids don formal floor length gowns in shockingly bright colors.

On the big day, the happy couple heads to the church around 5am for a brief religious ceremony. I didn’t attend this and I’m not sure who does attend other than the bride and groom. From that point on the couple is sent off in opposite directions…the groom to the home of his parents and the bride to hers to prepare themselves for the party. Later in the day, the groom and his men are sent to "capture" (i.e. escort) the bride and her maids to the reception tent. The groom comes bearing a peace offering (flowers), but as they enter the big tent you would think that this is the worst day of her life. The bride and her entourage of young women play the part of the captured spoils by looking distraught, fearful, and sad while the men follow behind celebrating and whooping it up like they’ve just returned from a successful raid.

Finally they’ve arrived! Smith, Sofie, and I have been sitting on hard wooden benches underneath this gigantic multi-tarp tent waiting for Maza (the bride and an acquaintance of ours) and her new husband to enter. At the recommendation of Maza’s brother, we arrived early. Early enough to get a back row seat (perfect for people watching) in the ladies section (yes…seating is segregated), but also to lead to numb bums (hard wooden benches without backs are tortuous for more than an hour). While the ladies around us have used the wait to work their way through liters of tella—the local home brew, we’ve whiled away the interminable wait people watching and attempting to avoid the eye of the photographer and videographer. Unfortunately our attempts are completely unsuccessful. Poor Maza. I cringe to think of the day that she sits down to watch her wedding video to find that three farenji women have stolen the limelight from her on her special day! Oh well, I guess that’s the risk one takes when inviting all three of the DebreMarkos farenji chicks to a special event. The reception proceeded much like a wedding reception in the states….blessings from a selection of priests, food, loud overbearing music and before we knew it the event was seemingly over.

I say seemingly, because at that point we were off the hook. The bridal party, however, continues to celebrate by driving their caravan of rickety cars and buses to the forest where the party will continue with more local brew and the delicacy of raw meat sliced off a hindquarter of something that dangles from a tree. Hmm…not sad that I missed that part of the festivities!

Overall, I must admit that I was a bit disappointed that the event had such a Western feel. My friend Gigi assures me that there is a more traditional ceremony (which I believe takes place the following evening), but this is not something that everybody and his brother attends. I do hope that is true.

Smith, Sofie, and I. Sofie is a British volunteer with VSO who came to town a few months after our arrival

The "ladies section"

Tella—the local home brew which I like to refer to as "muddy water"

Cheering the arrival of the bride and groom

Maza and her bridesmaids

Maza and her husband

Q: How many Ethiopians does it take to change a light bulb????

A: One very BRAVE Ethiopian!

I have been so fortunate to wind up living on a compound with a family that takes such great care of me. When I’m under the weather, they come knocking with a cup of steaming tea and slice of bread. When I don’t feel like traipsing to the market, they ask what I need and go for me. When an annoying and persistent Ethiopian guy follows me home (harmless, but annoying none the less), they shoe him away and wait to ensure that he’s truly on his way back to town. When I have to wake up at 5am and walk to town in the dark to catch the bus, one of them always accompanies me. When the sheets need washing (which is a difficult job when you’re hand washing and ringing them out), Aselef insists on doing the task for me. So why I worried about what would happen when my light bulb burned out is beyond me!

I should preface this by saying that I’m a fairly self-reliant person and the thought of having to ask for help to change a light bulb seemed ridiculous. But, no matter how I did the math, I couldn’t figure out a way to get my 5’9” body to safely reach a 15-foot ceiling. After 3 days of stumbling around in the dark, I realized that I had to ask for help. Help came in the form of my guard, Dawit, who didn’t seem phased by my request in the least. He fabricated a rickety ladder out of sticks, twine, and a little bit of leftover electrical wiring and nimbly scaled the rungs that were held together by a prayer. As I held my breath and prayed that we wouldn’t need to take a trip to the hospital, Dawit quickly brought light back into my hallway. He also shed a little light on why community is the thread that holds the fabric of Ethiopian life together. Things can be daunting here when resources are limited, but together, nothing is impossible.

Dawit constructing the ladder

Dawit is a braver soul than I. You couldn’t have paid me money to scale that ladder!

Just before I left the States for my big move across the pond, I traveled to North Carolina to visit my brother and his family. One of our excursions was to the Asheville Botanical Gardens. I remember at the time seeing this most amazing flower and thinking that I would love to have that in my garden someday. Given that it looked rather exotic, I thought my chances were slim to none. Funny how things work out! I was in the yard the other day doing the wash and letting my mind wander as often happens when one is doing a mundane and routine task (yes, hand washing clothes is second nature to me now!). All of a sudden I realized I had been staring at this flower—the same one that caught my eye in North Carolina. Unbelievable. I’ve been living here and doing laundry in this exact same spot for more than a year and have just now realized that my exotic flower grows like a weed all over our rickety compound fence.

This is the picture that I took while roaming the botanical gardens in North Carolina. The flower is known as Hareg here and was labeled as Passion Flower in the States.

It has been so much fun to watch Ava grow up. At nearly 9 months old, she is a happy, healthy girl who is already learning how to do the customary head bob and enjoys a spoonful of bunna now and then. Ethiopian childhoods are so different than American ones. Not better or worse, just different. Consider this:

Diapers are a luxury here. Hence, Ava just goes when nature calls. I just always hope and pray that I’m not the one holding her at the inopportune time. But, on the flip side, think of all the landfills in America that are filling up with diapers that will probably outlive me. For the sake of the environment here, I’m glad diapers are a rarity.

Ava’s first haircut was with a razor blade. Scary for me, but she didn’t seem to think anything of it. Fortunately, Aselef and Souwnet have steady hands.

Infants are rarely out of physical contact with their mother. I’ve yet to see a crib—mother and baby share the same bed. Need to go to market, do the wash, prepare dinner, or ride the bus? No problem. Baby just gets strapped on back and carted along. It’s rare to see a fussing child strapped to her mother’s back. I’m not sure why this phenomenon occurs. In many ways, it reminds me of a momma cat carrying her young by the scruff of their neck. The kitten just hangs limply as momma carts them to and fro just as Ava seems to go into a trance when riding along on Genet’s back.

Toys (or what we would traditionally call a toy) are scarce, but the kiddos seem perfectly content. An old water bottle, a cup, or a long stalk of grass can provide at least minutes worth of entertainment. I did, however, interfere with playtime one day when I realized that Genet had placed a plastic bag over Ava’s face for a game of peek-a-boo! Yes, a teachable moment!

Kids are rarely told “don’t do that, you’ll get your clothes dirty.” Here, where many homes have mud floors, dirt is just an unavoidable reality. At the end of the day, clothes and kids are washable. No sense stressing about it.

Ava and Genet

What child do you know that would tolerate a leaf stuck to her head day in and day out? The leaf covers a glob of kibe (a homemade butter) that is used to moisten Ava’s naturally dry hair and scalp.

Ava showing off her new pink outfit courtesy of my Mom.

Just when I thought I was done with edible surprises, I found myself faced with three new treats within the span of a week. Smith and I were sitting in my living room one afternoon when this very unusual (code word for FOUL) smell came wafting through the house. I realized at about the same time that Aselef had been pounding something with the mookacha (mortar) and zenazena (pestle) for quite some time.

I went outside to investigate and found what I can only describe as a cow crap like substance. It was foul looking and foul smelling. When they told me it was a type of food (for human ingestion) I couldn’t resist telling them my initial assumption—payback for thinking my no-bake cookies were cow patties. (I assure you that they found this as funny as I did!) Based on the fact that we do a lot with cow crap around here, the act of pounding it with the mookacha and zenazena didn’t seem that far outside the realm of reason. Well, 15 minutes later the pounding process was complete and I was called back outside to sample this treat that they call NUUG. I seriously considered passing on this “opportunity,” but in an effort to live by my mantra of “carpe diem” and “what doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger,” I stuck my spoon in. I will admit that it wasn’t nearly as bad as my vivid imagination had predicted (kind of like a very bitter peanut butter), but the texture was atrocious. In my book, definitely NOT a treat. I’d much prefer an OREO and a tall glass of skim milk with ice!

And as for the other two edible surprises, let’s just say that I’ve added two new cow parts to a growing list of things that I never knew were fit for human consumption. I walked out back one morning to find Genet and Hannah preparing lunch. I was hoping it was the dog’s lunch, but no such luck. Now I know people who consider cow’s tongue a delicacy, I just don’t happen to be one of them. And watching this preparation wasn’t going to make me a believer. The other “treat”—cow stomach. I was a good sport and sampled both (neither of which tasted like CHICKEN!), but I don’t plan to do it again. I think there are some things that you just have to grow up eating…slowly training taste bud by taste bud. My taste buds, however, are well past the training stage and are just not willing to accept cow stomach as a viable food source!

Food and one’s perspective on food is truly a fascinating aspect of cultural exchange. Just being willing to sample Ethiopian foods has taught me so much about this culture and people. I also know that my willingness to try their traditional foods have earned me their respect and acceptance. I don’t have to love it; I just have to try it!

Preparing to try NUUG.

Still alive and not gagging….that’s a good sign.

Hannah having a little fun with the cow stomach. Oh, just for clarification. This is not eaten raw. Thankgoodness!

Hannah and Genet cutting up the parts while Ava appears to be thoroughly bored by the entire process.

Yum—cow tongue! (two words that should never be used together)

It seems like just yesterday that I participated in my first Timkat (Epiphany) celebration and yet here I am again. This year I attended with Aselef and her niece, Hannah. As the crowd of 4,000 strong processed along, it reminded me of a herd of wildebeests during the Great Migration. Elbow to elbow, shoulder to shoulder, blindly you proceed following the lead of the person in front of you. As an individual you don’t really care where you’re going, you just focus your energy on not being trampled or getting poked in the eye by a wayward umbrella. Unlike that of the wildebeests, our pace was a bit more sedate and there were no predators lingering on the sidelines patiently waiting for a straggler. Instead of an undulating river of wildebeest brown amidst a cloud of dust, we were a sea of white (all traditional Ethiopian clothes are white with a colorful trim) capped by a rainbow of umbrellas.

I don’t know if it was because I was wearing a skirt and hidden partially by my umbrella or because I’m now a Timkat veteran, but I drew very little attention. I truly felt like just one of the many. Although I still don’t fully understand the significance of the long, slow procession, the chanting and beating of drums, and the circling of the church, I do at least feel like I belong.

While I was celebrating locally, Smith (my sitemate) decided to make the pilgrimage to Gondar, which is the Mecca of Timkat celebrations. It would be safe to say that tens of thousands of Ethiopians made this trip along with her and although it would have been impressive to witness the events there, I am not envious of the chaos and crowds that she had negotiate. She was, however, able to capture some beautiful photos and graciously allowed me to share them with you. Enjoy.

DebreMarkos Church

Three young girls wearing traditional “Habesha Libs”

Everyone is encouraged to make a joyful noise

The streets of Gondar filled with crowds, chaos, and celebration

On the day of Timkat, worshippers gather at the Royal Pool where they are blessed and sprinkled with its holy water.

I just love the colors worn by the priests and the reflection cast by the pool.

I love the randomness of this experience. I can't emphasize enough how every day is truly an adventure. Even on the days that I don't have the energy, desire, or sometimes courage to leave the compound, I can always count on the "adventure" finding me.

Perhaps it is all about perspective. There have certainly been a fair number of my volunteer friends who have had guests visit to only have them purchase an immediate return ticket home. Where they see poverty, I see tenacity and hope. Where they see dirt and dust, I see the aftermath of a magnificent rainy season and the patience to wait for the rain to return. Where they experience inconvenience, I see challenge and an opportunity for ingenuity. Where they meet annoying kids chanting "you, you, you," I see kids hungry for love and attention. Ultimately, where some people get bogged down in the difficulties and hassles here, I see instead the opportunity for yet another adventure or in many cases my comical "misadventures". My intent is not to glorify this experience, this country, this culture. It is real people, living real life…with all of its bumps and bruises. There are times that I have to put on a smile and search for the adventure buried in the rubble of the frustrations of the day. But like a good treasure hunt, the joy is often in the hunt, not the treasure.

Some of my recent experiences that I like to coin…."only in Ethiopia":

….i returned to my home after a month absence to find my house a mess. Truly a disaster zone. The bathroom water problem that should have been repaired was "in progress," the living room had been the site for a party, and the dining room table was shoved up against a wall tomake room for a mattress. When I inquired as to the reason for the mattress, Aselef replied…"the house was afraid". Yes…only in Ethiopia!

…walking home from town one day I took a route that I had only traveled once previously. As I was passing this home a woman came racing out to the road calling "you, come for coffee. Come!" I had refused her on my initial foray down this particular road and didn't feel that I could refuse again. So, I went. I entered the home to find a crowd of 12 or 13 Ethiopians none of whom I knew. I sat perched on the edge of the couch, sipping bunna, while fielding questions that flew at me like bullets. The number one question(asked by more than one person)…why aren't you married? Yes…only inEthiopia!

I'm trying to put this experience in the Western perspective. Here is the closest scenario I can come up with. Imagine you look out the window and spy a runner passing the house. You race to the roadside and invite him to your family reunion, which is in progress. He accepts and you sit him down at the head of the table and send a volley of questions at him, none of which are socially appropriate. Now, can you imagine accepting such an offer? ONLY IN ETHIOPIA!

…only in Ethiopia can you be called fat regardless of your size. We can't quite figure out what the requirements are for "fatness". It doesn't seem to matter if you are a petite, athletic size 2, or a Goliath sized 42….we're all fat. And, we also can't figure out if it's a compliment or a cut. So, in an effort to keep everything in perspective and to see the "adventure" in the most biting of remarks(at least from a Western perspective), I respond with…"thanks, you'relooking quite fat yourself!"

…only in Ethiopia can you be riding in a cab from the airport and receive an invitation from a fellow passenger to join her and her family for Christmas dinner. When, you ask. NOW! Sadly, enough, I didn't take her up on her offer…an adventure that got away!

…only in Ethiopia is Barack Obama such a phenomenon that cafes, and buildings are named in his honor (pre-election). For election night the Barack Obama café in Bahar Dar was open all night and we watched the results from a big screen set up on the veranda during the wee hours of the morning. For the inauguration, the same café hosted a Miss Obama beauty contest, which I'm sad to say that I missed. I just couldn't endure one more excruciating bus ride.

…only in Ethiopia can the act of making homemade spaghetti sauce turn into an adventure. I need to preface this by saying that I had completed a 3-hour laundry program earlier in the day. As I went to open a can of tomato paste it exploded...much like a grenade. Intruth, it looked like I had been shot. Tomato paste sprayed over my shirt, pants, neck, face, hair, and directly into my left eye. That is where the adventure comes in. I freaked out. Flew to the sink, scrambled to wash my hands while my eye was burning so that I could then yank the contact out of my eye. In the process I smeared tomato paste everywhere that it currently wasn't located. My biggest fear(enhanced by the fact that I wear contact lenses when I was expressly discouraged against doing so) is to have an eye injury while here. Suffice it to say that 4 hours later my eye was still hurting and my hyperactive imagination convinced me that I'd wake up blind. I didn'twake up blind, but I woke up to a ton of dirty laundry that needed re-washing. Ugh!

Well, that may be a bit optimistic of me. Perhaps I should rephrase

that as "I may have found a place where I can kinda sorta use my

skills at least a few hours per week". Ever since my brief

assignment with World Learning came to an abrupt end, I've been

looking for a way to be of some assistance to this community. In

effect, I've been searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack.

I've felt like a kid lost in a grocery store…at times content to

aimlessly wander and at other times frantically searching the aisles

looking for a familiar face. At some point you just want to sit down

and wait to be found. And ultimately that's what I did.

Charlie, my New Mexico friend, is a hospital CEO currently working for

the Clinton Foundation. Based out of Bahar Dar, his job is to serve

as a mentor/advisor to his Ethiopian peers while they in turn try to

implement a Hospital Management Standard developed by the Yale School

of Public Heath and the Ethiopian Ministry of Health. Suffice it to

say that this project is an enormous, but desperately needed,

undertaking.

And where do I fit in? Well Charlie can't be everywhere at once.

The hospitals that are under his responsibility are days apart. Phone

and internet service are inconsistent. I, consequently, have found

myself serving as the "in-house" advisor to the hospital CEO in our

town. When I first met Shegaw and heard Charlie rant and rave about

my experience and skill set, my first thought was OH NO! I've never

been a CEO. I've never worked at that level in administration. Yes,

I have hospital experience (lots of it), but managing two PT

departments is a far cry from running a hospital. But Shegaw doesn't

seem to think my experience is inconsequential. He's never been a CEO

before either. He is gracious, humble, and open to new ideas from

anyone and everyone…me included.

Part of his on the job training is through Jimma University where he

and the other newly established CEO's are working on their Master's in

Healthcare Administration. His assignments for the program are things

that he is expected to implement at the hospital. What a great and

practical way to learn!

So what do I actually do? It's certainly not a 9 to 5 type of day.

I guess I would consider it "project based." One of the first things

that I was asked to do was administer a pilot study on patient

satisfaction. The concept of soliciting feedback from patients and

using that information to enhance service is new to Ethiopia. It is

also a foreign concept for patients to be encouraged to give a

critique. In this country, speaking out has not always been met with

the best of outcomes. I've also assisted Shegaw in performing a

hospital wide quality assessment (for you healthcare people out there,

think JCAHO—but miniaturized). It was fabulous to be on the side of

the reviewer rather than at the mercy of said reviewer for once in my

professional life!

In Shegaw's short tenure (he's only been on the job for 10 months)

he's made some significant strides. For example, we now have a

bio-fuel system that collects all of the hospital waste, allows the

gas to build, and then channels it to the kitchens for fuel (no more

environmentally disastrous tree cutting…woohoo!). There are still

many challenges and obstacles ahead. The first and foremost being

that there is no water in the patient wards. Can you imagine working

in a hospital where you can't easily wash your hands in between

patients? And, then, consider what that means for infection control.

I can't tell you what a relief it is to have been found. To have a

place where I feel needed and useful and where I may actually be able

to make a contribution. Like many things here, this may be a fleeting

opportunity. But for now, I will gladly jump in with both feet and

see where the current takes me. Carpe diem!

Shegaw

The entrance to our hospital.