Unto the least of these

Tuesday, 25 December

"Merry Christmas!" a little elf whispered into my ear at 6:30 this morning.

"Merry Christmas," I mumbled back.

I tried to convince her that we needed to sleep for another hour (seeing as she didn't get to sleep until after 10 last night) but she would have none of that. Stockings were waiting. So I told her she could go peek at them and then should come back to bed. Ha.

Next thing I knew, she had Laolao examinging the stockings with her. Okay, mother, get your butt out of bed. I got up, threw on some basic clothes, and went to see what delights Santa had managed to bring to or find in Ethiopia. Laoye joined us shortly thereafter, so I guess more sleep was out of the question.

After breakfast, Giggles and Laoye went off to buy more buns and investigate a possible restaurant for supper tonight. (Gotta eat out a few times!) While they did so, I showered, dressed properly, and packed the basics for our trip tomorrow. Upon their return, Giggles took me into the street to show me the kitty they'd seen a down the road a ways. The little kitty was no longer there, but a slightly larger one was, so we petted it and fed it some yogurt we'd brought from the kitchen. The people living in the nearby houses all gathered round, exclaiming at these crazy foreigners (or some such – who knows what they were really saying!).

We then began our morning's adventure, to find AHOPE Ethiopia, the orphanage for HIV+ children. I had some general directions and phone numbers, and had been told it wasn't necessary to phone ahead but one could just show up, so that's what we planned on doing. Fasil was busy so sent a friend to drive us. The friend didn't seem to understand the directions – not a good sign. After a few futile attempts at calling the AHOPE phone numbers, I told him to take us to the Weygoss, both because I'd forgotten I wanted to go there first anyhow to leave a message for K & M and in the hopes that someone there might know of AHOPE and be able to provide directions.

The first purpose was accomplished but the second didn't produce much. No one knew of AHOPE, but after some discussion with a few of the staff, the taxi driver at least seemed to know better what general area to go in. So off we went. The ride took us over some bumpy sections where the road was under construction, past some landmarks we'd seen before and beyond. We came to one of the landmarks that was part of the directions I'd received to find the orphanage, and no sign of it. The driver asked one or two people, but again no one knew of it. We found the offices of Save the Children and went in to ask if anyone knew of it, but they were mostly deserted owing to its being (western) Christmas Day and the Ethiopian staff around didn't have any idea. Then I had a brain wave. I called our MCC friends on my mobile phone and asked them for the number of the person they knew who volunteered at AHOPE. I then called him and had him give direcdtions to the taxi driver. We headed back down the main road and had gone about a kilometre when Laolao called out, "AHOPE Ethiopia! There it is!" She'd spotted the small sign by the gate. At last! It had taken us almost two hours to find it.

The guard let us into the gate and we were ushered into the office area, where several people greeted us. One woman gave us the spiel about their mission and work, and then took us on a tour of the compound. We had come to the younger children's compound; there is a second compound for older children, which is about a 10-minute drive away. Some of the children were at school, but those too young for school were at the compound. In one room we saw about a dozen of the littlest ones playing with the nannies; in a different building the three and four-year-olds were learning colours and numbers with another nanny. One very small eight-year-old girl was among them; she had just recently arrived at AHOPE in poor health and was from a region where Amharic is not spoken. She had not yet started school as they wished to improve her health and give her a chance to pick up some basic Amharic first.

One of the children had several noticeable sores on his face; the staff said he was a relatively recent arrival as well and had been in much worse condition, but that with proper medical care he was doing much better. For these children, good nutrition is essential as their bodies are weakened by the need to fight the HIV virus, and they are more susceptible to other germs and diseases. Once the HIV medications have taken effect and brought the virus under control, their bodies have greater resources to fight off other infections.

We didn't stay long, but I had wanted to see the place where many of our donations were destined and to be able to tell the people who gave items what we had seen.

As we departed, the taxi driver told me that he was very happy we had found the place – I think he was concerned about giving good service. He also gave me some corrections to the directions I had been given, which had been a source of the confusion as the version I had didn't make much sense.

It was 1:00 by the time we got home. We ate a light lunch of Christmas chicken soup (that had been simmering on the stove most of the morning) and had some time to play, read, nap, and go pet the cats again before adventure number two.

At 3:30, Daniel from the Kid's Hope project showed up at our door. We loaded up the last two of our donation suitcases and he took us into yet another new part of town. This project was housed down a maze of narrow, rough gravel streets off a main road. The director, Besret, showed us the library and computer rooms, which are the main physical features of their premises.

This project is operated with the partnership of Canadian Humanitarian and focuses on providing support so that orphans or "half-orphans" can remain in their community and continue to be cared for by their community and to receive education. They have tutors who support the students in their studies, assisting with homework and providing extra instruction in literacy, math, science and other subjects, including English. The library, by our standards, would seem very basic, but it probably houses more books than many of these students would ever have a chance to see.

The computer room, in contrast, is a marvel. Four modern computers are used to teach twelve students at a time basic computer skills. Four more computers with internet connection will soon be added to the library, providing older students with the ability to do e-research (providing they know enough English, though it may also provide an incentive and means to learn more English).

The project also works with the children's caregivers, usually extended family, to assist them with income generation, skills development, and development of good health and hygiene habits. While we did not meet any of the students, we were told of several who came out of very disadvantaged circumstances and were using this opportunity to better themselves and make changes in their lives. The community among whom this project is working are among some of the most marginalized in the city, we were told.

To finish off this Christmas with a difference, we headed back to the Weygoss where we'd arranged to meet K & M for supper. A short walk took us to an Italian restaurant with prices that were not bad (for North American pockets). We had a nice time chatting (though K in particular was having trouble staying awake, having just finished a two-day journey from Canada and before that several fretful nights of anticipation!). They had met their little girl today and had seen Poppet at the TH, too – he was apparently all smiles again! Tomorrow they are heading on an excursion out of town to meet birthfamily, while we are headed off for some more sightseeing before completing our family unification.

(Continue to 26 December: Awassa)

A little boy on Christmas Eve

Monday, 24 December

We slept in a little this morning and ate a leisurely breakfast. First thing on the agenda after breakfast was to change some money and buy a few groceries to tide us over the next two days and have a bit for when we return from our second tour.

Laoye went off with Fasil to exchange money while Laolao, Giggles and I started shopping. We went to the Novis store on Bole Road at the end of our street (which is apparently named Zimbabwe Street, if I recall correctly). Our friend JN had said there was a better store further up Bole Road, but we couldn't remember what it was called nor how far up it was. For our current purposes, Novis was fine. We bought some fruits and vegetables, though I think in the future we'll get these from the small stalls in the street. You get a better price from the small vendors and you are probably skipping over a few intermediaries. Also picked up a chicken and some canned meat, detergent for the maid to do our laundry (did I mention we have a maid who does laundry and dishes, makes beds and generally tidies up?), some milk, and an expensive imported French camembert to put into Laoye's stocking tonight!

That took the better part of the morning. After lunch we got ready to go to the Transition House. Solomon T called just after 1:00 to say he'd be there in a few minutes, so we hauled the three suitcases of donations outside the gate and stood ready and waiting. And waiting. And waiting. (I think they were Ethiopian minutes.) Around 1:30 he showed up with Germatchew, the driver, and in we piled.

The drive to the TH took a good half hour and led us across town towards the mountain. (I had thought our rental house was located in the same subdivision as the TH, but it seems it's not.) We passed many markets, large and small, including what Solomon described as a Chinese market – I think because they sell imported Chinese goods. A short distance down the road from the TH we passed a soccer field that is also an animal market. Today there were not many animals for sale, but Solomon said Tuesdays and (I think) Thursdays and Saturdays the place is teeming. Giggles wanted to buy a sheep and take it home to Canada, but we told her the government wouldn't allow it. Sorry. (Not!)

Finally we reached the TH, nestled at the base of the mountain.

Inside the compound walls, we found some nice courtyards with flowers blooming and lovely pictures of the children adorning many of the compound and building walls.






We were led into the main office, where the director, Solomon D, met us and began the proceedings. Giggles grew quickly bored with the talk and went outside to look around and play, leaving the grown-ups to their discussions. First, Solomon D gave a speech about the TH, how the children are cared for, and how he is like a father to the children. He said three moments give him the greatest happiness: when the court decision for a child's adoption is made, when the immigration visa arrives, and when the parent(s) come to take their child home. These moments are tinged with sadness, as he grows to love the children and it is sad to part with them, but he knows that they will gain many opportunities that would not be possible for them to have in Ethiopia. He emphasized that the Ethiopian court adoption order is a final decision and cannot be revoked or rescinded. Once the adoption is finalized, the child cannot be returned to his or her birthparents, not can the adoptive parents turn the child over to someone else. The adoption document is recognized worldwide as a legal document.

(As an aside, this is why I always take a copy of Giggles' adoption papers when traveling with her – I have never been asked to produce them, but I have them available just in case anyone in authority should ask me to produce proof of our relationship.)

Much of Solomon D's speech was addressed to Laoye, with only glances at me or Laolao. It was a bit – not exactly annoying, but disconcerting. I expect it was a "guy" thing – one man addressing the person he expects to be the person of authority or the "head of the family." But then when he brought out the papers for signing, he started to hand them to Laoye, too, until Laoye waved him in my direction and said "She's the one doing the signing." (I mean, they KNEW Poppet was being adopted by a single woman, didn't they?!?) I just needed to sign that I had received the original court order and translation, birth certificate, passport with visa, and record of landing papers.

Solomon also mentioned that he had been in court yesterday (Sunday?!?) and would be going again tomorrow, 25 December, and that a few more visas had just arrived in the diplomatic pouch that was opened today (!!!).

When all these formalities were complete, we proceeded on a tour of the TH. As the children were still napping or just awaking from naps, we didn't head right over to Poppet's room, but started with the baby house.




We went into room after room filled with cribs with sleeping babies, babies snuggled in nurses' arms, or a few little ones who were awake. They were all sweet as can be. I had taken along printouts of the pictures of children I knew had not yet been brought home, and showed them to the nurses to help me identify which ones they were. At first I was told it was okay to take pictures generally but not specific pictures of individual babies, but once I produced the printouts of the babies and asked if I could take a picture for the parents, the staff didn't object.

We went first through the house with the littlest ones, then proceeded to the older infant house, where we met several children whose parents I've come to know on the chat groups, including one little girl I was able to tell "Your Mommy and Daddy are coming tomorrow!" All the rooms are brightly coloured, with cheery pictures on the walls of smiling children and colourful animals. The baby houses held six to eight cribs to a room, with three rooms in each house.


I had just paused to take a few pictures of the courtyard and mounted photos when Laolao and Laoye called to me, "Look who's here! You should be the first." I went around the building and there he was: my little Poppet, dressed in a bright yellow shirt, looking rather solemn and wide-eyed. I went up to him, took him by the hand, and sat on a small ledge by the side of the lawn. Giggles brought over the two stuffies we'd brought for him to choose from, but of course he was too overwhelmed to choose so I just gave him one and the other to Giggles.



Then Laolao brought out a little Christmas ornament she'd brought for him and we gave that to him, too. With some prompting, Poppet gave us a whispered "Merry Christmas!"

From there, we headed over to the toddler house.


But first, we gave Poppet the little "calendar" that Giggles and I had prepared. It features eight days: the first shows us coming to say "Hello" to Poppet, then three days of him waiting while we head off traveling with the car getting smaller, followed by three days of traveling with the car coming back towards him, getting bigger, and finally on the eighth day Mommy is holding his and Giggles' hands, with Laolao and Laoye in the background, and we are a FAMILY. It is entitled "7 sleeps." I showed the nanny, too, so she can help him to count the days until Mommy comes to take him into the family.


Inside the toddler house, the children were still just waking up from their naps. One older boy, too old for naps, was in the play area. Fikru is eight years old and just came to the TH three days ago, Solomon said.



He does not have prospective adoptive parents (yet) but they hope to find a family for him, too. All the other children have come from the orphanage and have been matched with parents who are waiting to bring them home; this lad seemed to be an exception to the rule. Perhaps the local kebele had asked the TH to take him in; I don't know (and didn't ask). But I hope someone will open their hearts to this eight year old lad; he seemed a pleasant fellow. All the other children in the toddler house seemed to be between three and five years of age.



[Note: Fikru found his forever family in the middle of 2008. His file was processed quickly and he came to Canada in mid-September. He is now living in BC with six brothers and sisters (two from Ethiopia). The family has a blog, On Joyful Wings, open only to invited readers.]

After a quick view of the playroom, Solomon D. took us to a gazebo/ tukul structure in the yard where we had a small coffee ceremony (not as elaborate at the one at Lalibela, but good nonetheless). I held Poppet on my lap and stroked his arm or face or patted his head almost the whole time.


After the coffee ceremony, we went back into the toddler house where the children had now gathered. They broke into song for us, and Poppet joined them, sitting among his friends. They were very sweet!


We peeked into Poppet's room, which houses four children. Poppet sleeps on a top bunk. We hoisted him up and Giggles climbed up to sit beside him so I could take a picture of the two of them together on his bed. It was as she did so that I saw the first flash of the famous Poppet smile.

We then looked into the two other rooms; one has five beds and one just two. We finally said goodbye to Poppet, repeating that we'd be back in seven sleeps. I have him a hug; Giggles didn't want to hug him but he spontaneously gave her a big hug and reached up and kissed her, again flashing the Poppet smile.

"Ugh!" said Giggles, dashing outside to Laolao and Laoye, "he kissed me!"

On the way back home, Solomon T commented that Poppet had told him just a short while back that when he went to Canada he would take Solomon with him. Sweet but sad; the poor little tyke is going to miss his friends a lot. I just hope we will soon grow familiar and just as well-loved.


I think back to when Giggles joined the family – she, too, was overwhelmed and sad. But she is also a tough, resilient little trickster; something that was evident right from the get-go. I don't yet know this little guy hardly at all, but I expect from the little I've seen and heard that he won't be the trickster she is (thank goodness – one in a family is enough) and may experience more sadness. We'll see.

[Note: I was wrong on the first count! He likes playing tricks, too, though in a slightly different way than Giggles/Mustang.]

On the way home we stopped at one of the Chinese markets where Solomon D. helped Laoye purchase two bedside lamps for the house. Laoye likes to be able to read at night when he awakes, and I need better light in our room. I've used the flashlight these past two nights to read Giggles her bedtime chapter of These Happy Golden Years, since the ceiling bulb is so dim as to be virtually useless.

After a supper of fried old Ethiopian chicken, buns and veggies, we had Fasil take us to the International Lutheran Church for their Christmas Eve service. (Yes, Christmas Eve!) This church is smaller than the Evangelical Church, but equally nice inside. They share the building with one of the Ethiopian Protestant churches. The service consisted of hymns, singing, readings from the Gospel, special music by various groups (Laolao and I joined the Canadians to sing the Huron Carol), and a candle-lighting ceremony at the end with the singing of Silent Night. Very much like a Christmas Eve service we'd have at home, sans snow.

Fasil was waiting for us after the service (we'd told him to come back in one and a half hours and the service was exactly that long!) so we declined a supper invitation and headed home. Back at home, we put out the stockings so Santa Claus would be sure to come.

Giggles has just realized that we are all Santa Claus, and she really got into it, putting out stockings for each of her stuffies and then finding all kinds of goodies to put in them, as well as goodies for me, Laolao and Laoye too. Then we enjoyed a cup of tea and some candies at the table while we listened to the Christmas story. First Giggles told the story from memory, putting in all the right details and adding little flourishes and dramatic touches, right down to Herod's killing of the innocents and Joseph and Mary's fleeing to Egypt with the baby Jesus. Then I read the Christmas story from Luke, Laolao read the part about the wise men from Matthew, and Laoye read the first dozen verses from the Gospel of John that speak of the Word becoming Flesh and the Light shining in the darkness. And with that, it was high time for BED!

(I got up briefly once Giggles was asleep and added a few touches to the Christmas stockings.)

(Continue to 25 December: Unto the least of these)

Christmas party in Addis

Sunday, 23 December

Today was a day full of fun and friends. We had a leisurely morning, waking when we had slept ourselves out, eating a simple breakfast, and playing in the yard with Giggles' stuffies. Fasil, our landlord's son, came at 11:00 to take us to the International Evangelical Church where we were to meet some friends of friends and fellow Mennonites. The church is in a distant corner of town, so it took about 20 minutes to get there and Fasil had to ask a few people in the vicinity to find its exact location. Addis has no addresses to speak of, and only the very major streets are named, so one finds one's way by asking for landmarks, adjacent buildings and the like.

The church meets in a lovely modern building built about 12 years ago. It is non-denominational and holds services in English. Many of the people attending are Ethiopian, as well as many ex-pats (foreigners). Our friend said that during the persecution of the (non-Orthodox) church during the Mengistu regime, Ethiopians who worshiped with foreigners and in English had some immunity to persecution. (As it turns out, the persecution only strengthened the church; when the Derg was overthrown the number of believers in indigenous evangelical churches had grown more than ten-fold, I believe.) Even today the Orthodox Church is opposed to evangelical and Protestant churches and often stirs up unrest and trouble against them, destroying or burning the church buildings used by the local congregations despite their operating with the permission of the authorities. Complaints to said authorities rarely result in punishment of the offenders, as this is a democracy based on popular opinion, not the rule of law or the protection of minority rights.

But I digress.

A Christmas tree adorned the front of the church. The service consisted of a special Christmas celebration with hymn singing and a telling of the Christmas story. After the service we accompanied our friends to a Menno potluck and gift exchange. There we met several people with Mennonite roots – the field representative of the Canadian Food Grains Bank, Mennonite Central Committee's Ethiopia country reps, a young woman teaching English in a government school who was seconded there by a Mennonite mission organization, and several of the Ethiopian staff of Meserete Kristos College (the seminary operated by the Ethiopian Mennonite – literally "Christ our Foundation" – church). Our friends also work at the MK College, located in Debre Zeit, about an hour's drive southeast of Addis

We enjoyed a lovely potluck Christmas dinner. Chicken replaced turkey, but otherwise the trimmings were complete: stuffing, mashed potatoes with gravy, salad, and veggies. (Well, I guess we were missing the cranberry sauce and the pies for dessert.)


Giggles found some other little girls close to her age to play with; in fact all the kids were girls except for one young man who was too old to be considered a kid, really – likely in his late teens.




After dinner the young kids each got a Christmas stocking stuffed with goodies, and we adults and teenagers played the "Now you've got it, now you don't" Christmas gift exchange game, where people open presents one at a time and you can steal something you like from someone else.

Laolao, Laoye and I ended up with quite a bit of candy, which we certainly don't need! Maybe we'll take some of it to the orphanage and give it to the kids… or take it on our next trip and pass it out to the kids we meet in the villages

All that filled the afternoon, and we arrived home shortly after sunset. I needed to make a few phone calls, so while Giggles played and drew, I managed to find the "on" button for the cell phone we have for the duration of our stay, and started to make arrangements for the next couple of days.

First I got in touch with Solomon to arrange to visit the Transition House and meet Poppet tomorrow afternoon. I have been debating for the past week whether to visit between our two trips, not wanting to cause Poppet anxiety when we show up and then disappear again for a week before taking him to stay with us. But I finally decided to go ahead. We'll just be sure to make it very clear that we WILL be back in seven sleeps and then he will come to live us forever. I am excited and nervous and glad and everything one could possibly be when anticipating meeting a child one has loved in absentia for going on eight months now.

A few more calls and it was high time for bed. Another busy day tomorrow!

(Continue to 24 December: A little boy on Christmas Eve)

Back to Addis

Saturday, 22 December

Saturday was a pretty do-nothing day. We were to have been collected from our hotel at 8:45 to go to the airport for a noon flight back to Addis. But when we were at breakfast, we were advised that the plane was delayed – one of these inexplicable and unexplained delays that apparently plague Ethiopian Airlines' domestic operations. (They are supposed to Africa's premier airline and top-notch for their international service, but not so highly rated for their domestic service.) No word on when the flight would leave. They would call our guide to inform him, apparently.

We were given the option of going to the Saturday market but chose not to go, in part not wanting to be too far away in case the call came. Oh, don't worry, they said, we'd come to collect you. Still, we figured we'd have other opportunities to go to a market.

I spent about an hour at the internet café, updating my blog by e-mail and reading a few messages. Then Laolao and Giggles and I walked up the road a short distance and back. As we exited the hotel for our walk, a nicely dressed young man approached us and asked where we were from. When we said Canada, he asked if we would take a letter for him and mail it from Canada to his brother in Toronto. I don't know if that would be because he didn't have money for postage or because he didn't trust the Ethiopian postal system, or perhaps a bit of both. We said we figured we could do that, and he gave us his e-mail address to let him know when we had sent it. We told him we wouldn't be back in Canada until the end of January, so not to worry if he didn't hear from us for a while. He also gave us a tiny Ethiopian cross on a leather cord, which made us feel good – that he wasn't just another beggar asking for something from us rich foreigners. We gave the cross necklace to Giggles, who was quite pleased with it. Later, Laoye said he'd met a student last night who said he had a brother in Toronto, so we wondered if it was the same young man and if he'd gone home and written the letter that evening hoping to be able to catch us again.

I had also given Gigles her allowance in birr and, being Giggles, she wanted to buy something right away. So we went into a small shop and she selected a silver cross, larger than the one on the necklace, but not too big. It cost 40 birr, leaving her with 20 birr in her money pouch from her allowance and what Laolao had given her earlier in the week.

After that we hung around the hotel grounds, reading, playing in the sun, dozing a bit. By noon there was still no word of when the flight was coming, so we headed off to the Jerusalem Guest House for a bowl of soup for lunch. (Note: we have eaten a lot of soup here and it has all been very tasty. In fact, all of the food so far has been very good. We haven't eaten very much traditional food, sticking mostly to Ethiopianized western food, on the advice of our friend JN who said to avoid ihe traditional food at least for a while as it is very oil-laden and prone to cause upset stomachs if you're not used to it. So far, only Laolao and Giggles have had any digestive problems, and only minor ones.)

As we were finishing our soup, some Swiss travelers at the table next to us got the word – the plane was leaving Addis and was expected in Lalibela soon; check-in time at the airport was to be in half an hour. It was about a 45-minute drive to the airport, so we quickly slurped the last of our soup, signed for the bill, and rushed back to our hotel where the van was waiting. We grabbed our suitcases from the room, piled in, and off we went.

At the airport there was quite a line-up of people checking in, and by the time we got through the line-up, past security, and into the waiting lounge, it was about 2:15. The plane arrived about ten minutes later, and after the Lalibela passengers had deplaned, we were able to board. Now began a lengthy grasshopper journey back to Addis. The first hop took us up north to Axum, then we came back south to Gondar, then to Bahir Dar, and the final stop was Addis, where we arrived at about 5:30. We were able to direct the taxi driver to our house, then after unpacking, we fell into bed.

(Continue to 23 December: Christmas party in Addis)

Gondar

Wednesday, 19 December

We slept soundly again last night, waking at about 7 for breakfast and preparations for our 8:30 departure to Gondar by road. I had wanted to send my first postings by internet this morning, and last night Laolao had verified with the internet person that he would be there at 8:00 this morning, but he wasn't. (The sign by the internet desk said 8 a.m. to 8 p.m., but he had left early last night after laolao had said I'd rather do my posting in the morning.) We hung around the lobby near the internet desk for half an hour, but at 8:30 moved out into in front of the hotel to await our driver, who was supposed to arrive at 8:30. He didn't show up on time, either, so we played a bit more Tilley Hat frisbee while we waited in the drive.

The driver finally showed up at around 8:45 (but the internet man still wasn't there) so we piled in and began our 3-hour drive to Gondar. The road was in very good condition, smooth asphalt that looked fairly new or else well-maintained, and it didn't change all the way to Gondar.

I must say that I have been impressed by the quality of the roads here in Ethioppia – but that assessment does come with two major caveats. Firstly, I am given to understand that the 3-hour drive from Bahir Dar to Gondar represents about 20% of the entire paved highway system in the entire country. So while the paved roads may be good, they are definitely NOT extensive. Secondly, this impression is based entirely on the roads we have traveled, and we have not traveled many, nor gone off the beaten (tourist) path. For all that, the gravel road that led from Bahir Dar to the Blue Nile falls was also in very good condition. It had a good, hard-packed gravel surface, level and smooth (in terms of gravel roads), i.e. not pitted or pot-holed or with a loose surface that makes it hard to control a vehicle. (This assessment comes from a prairie girl who has traveled numerous Canadian prairie gravel roads in my younger years!) I contrast these to the roads I travelled in Kenya 11 years ago, which were in such poor condition that one was constantly swerving, zigging and zagging in order to avoid potholes and washed out sections. One occasionally even left the road entirely and drove in the ditch alongside, or half in the ditch, as the road surface itself was so horrendous. This held even for roads that were supposedly new.

On the route to Gondar, the only thing that slowed us down or made us swerve was the occasional need to avoid colliding with heavily-laden donkwys and their drivers, though for the most part they stayed on the verge and didn't stray onto the road surfact per se. We passed countless beasts of burden, and even more people walking along the road, from one town to the next or perhaps from home to field. There were signs of haying – mene wielding scythes cutting the grasses; others bundling the cut hay, others forking it into haystacks. In a few places we also saw what looked like threshing grounds – a circular patch of ground surrounded by a waist-high wall, where the famrers would harness one or several animals to a central pole and drive them around and around, trampling the cut stalks of grain and relasing the kernels from the hulls. None of these was currently in operation. Cows dotted the fields in every directions, with the requisite herder standing guard or sitting in the shade of a tree. Ocassionally we saw sheep or goats as well. We passed several small villages – collections of huts alongside the road or set back a short distance. These looked like quite rough dwellings, likely lacking in any kind of sanitation or running water, and I would guess also without electricity. People would likely fetch water at a nearby well or river.

We passed through three larger towns, and in each of these there were Eid festivites going on, with crowds in the street that slowed the van to a crawl, and music and changing. As we inched our way forward through the crowd they banged on the sides of the van – I think just making merry. The people were dressed in their finery; I saw a little boy wearing a three-piece suit, and many in the traditional white gowns and hats.

Four or five rusted, worn-out tank bodies along the way were grim reminders of the wars that racked the country from the mid-1970s to the early 1990s. They now lay uselessly along the road, nothing but empty shells, giving evidence to past turmoil and reminding us of one of the reasons this beautiful country, so rich in resources, remains so desperately poor.

The land to the north of Bahir Dar, bordering Lake Tana, is flat table-land. The occasional rise and well breaks the flat expanse, and trees dot the landscape, but it appears to be good agricultural land, easy to cultivate and likely yielding good harvests if the rains do not fail.

Past Lake Tana, about two hours into the journey, we started to climb into mountainous terrain. The pass over the first chain was stepp and winding, and we watched the plains fall away below us and rugged hills interspersed with deep valleys now lay all around. Beyond that first chain came more and more mountains, ridge after ridge, all the rest of the way to Gondar. We had entered Ethiopia's northern highlands.

Gondar is another major centre, with some 200,000 inhabitants. The city proper lies nestled in a valley, with branches snaking up into several ravines between the mountains. There is a university and hospital in Gondar, and it is known in particular as a centre of religious teaching in the Ethiopian Orthodox church. To advance in the church to the rank of bishop or archbishop, it is almost a necessity to study at Gondar, or so we were told.

Our driver deposited us at the Goha Hotel, another in the Ghion hotel chain. (The Ghion is the main top-class Ethiopian-owned hotel in Addis.) As with the hotel in Bahir Dar, it was rather isolated, away from the teeming crowds. It did, howver, have a marvelous view of the city, perched as it was on a cliff-side on one of the surrounding mountains. It was now lunchtime, so we went to our rooms to freshen up and had a bite of lunch in the hotel dining room. With almost an hour to kill after lunch and before our guide arrived for the afternoon's excursions, Giggles and I wandered the hotel grounds. We found the spot where the hotel cats hang out, beneath the kitchen window. Giggles attempted to get close enough to pet them, but they were a wary bunch and kept darting off. The hotel maids that walked past tried to help out, calling to the cats, but they didn't respond. When we found a string, tied a fuzzy-leafed branch to it and used it as a cat toy two of the cats showed some interest, but not enough to bring them within petting distance. Then one of the kitchen staff opened a window and tossed out a scrap, and the cats all dived on it. No wonder they hang out there!

Our guide in Gondar was named Abebe – the masculine form of Ababa, as in Addis Ababa, meaning flower. We also had a new car and driver, the first presumably having begun the return journey to Bahir Dar. First stop in the afternoon: the castles of King Fasilidous. I don't recall everything Abebe told us, and I haven't reviewed the guide book enough to know more, but this is what I recall. King Fasilidous reigned in the early part of the seventeenth century. He was important for something like consolidating the kingdom, banishing (if I recall correctly) the Jesuit priests and restoring the influence of the Orthodox clergy, and suchlike. During his reign he constructed six or seven castles in the is walled enclosure. One was his own, one or two were apparently for his wife, and the others for various other purposes. Some of the castles were partially destroyed during the Second World War by Allied bombing against the Italians who were using them as headquarters for local operations. Others have simply suffered the effects of time, but many are in quite good condition

Abebe showed us how they would collect rainwater from the roofs to fill a large cistern, since the castles were set rather high on a hillside. He taught us to see the shape of the lion in the structure of the King's main castle, for the lion is the symbol of the kings of Ethiopia.

And he showed us the pepper trees growing in the gardens – black pepper trees! We asked if Ethiopia exported any pepper and he said no. Perhaps the quality of the seeds is not high enough- we sampled a few from the tree and, while peppery, they did not have the heat of the black peppercorns we are accustomed to purchasing in Canada. Perahps it is a different variety of peppercorn that is needed for "export quality" pepper. But if it could grow in Ethiopia, that might be another possible export crop! In any case, Abebe told us the locals would take the leaves of the peppercorn tree, cursh them, and spread the oils on their skin as a mosquito repellant. One would not want too fiery oils for that prupose, or one would burn one's skin!

The second stop of the afternoon was King Fasilidous bath, or swimming pool – at 70 by 30 metres, larger than an Olympic swimming pool..It is said that he would come here for quiet reflection to ponder the matters of state. Today, however, it was a hive of industry, as restoration work was in progress.

This project is being funded by the Government of Norway, so the workers here are apparently earning 50 birr a day, rather than the meagre 20 at the hotel construction site in Bahir Dar. Here, too, all the work was being done by hand – women in pairs carried loads of sand and gravel from the pile to where it was being mixed into mortar or used for fill; others were cleaning, men were cutting stones, and on and on. The paving around the pool itself was obviously newly restored – the mortar around the stones was still curing, it was so fresh. The work is to be complete within a month, in time for the celebration of Timkat (Epiphany) on 19 January, as many festivities are held here.

After the Bath, at our request we stopped briefly in the city centre to take a short walk amongst the people and buildings. Abebe accompanied us on a circular tour of one of the blocks. We went from the main road down a side street where people live. The first stretch of the road was cluttered with building debris where some buildings were being demolished in order, Abebe said, to widen the road and pave it. For the time being, however, it is definitely NOT what one would call a good road, even of the gravel variety. The surface was rough, pitted, and uneven. To either side the buildings stood, dusty grey shacks. Abebe pointed out a communal water tap where people would come to fetch their daily supply of water. It is, of course, just cold water. If anyone wanted hot water, Abebe said, they might go to a bakery and purchase some there We didn't ask about sanitation, but I'm sure a toilet might just be a hole in the ground somewhere, or even an open sewer.

As we walked, many people smiled at us and said "Hello." To Giggles they would say "Hello, baby." She asked why they call her a baby; I said they likely don't know enough English to say "little girl," and "baby" is the only word they know for a child. It's still more than we know of Amharic! At one point several children crowded around her and she was getting a bit upset so Abebe shooed them away. She said she wasn't scared; just nervous. I said yes, it can be a bit unsettling to have so many people come too close. They didn't both me as I was much bigger than them; but they were about her size so it could be more upsetting to have them come close.

I commented to Giggles that Poppet may well have been born to a family living in conditions like this – a simple shack, no running water, no yard to play in, just the street out his front door. But his birthmommy couldn't look after him, likely she was too poor, so she took him to the orphanage and now we have come to take him home with us to Canada. She seemed to look around at things with new eyes.

After about 10 minutes we headed back to the car down a stretch of the main road and drove back to the hotel. As the internet service was operational, I sent off my first three posts to my friend for uploading to the blog and read a few e-mails, while Giggles showed Laolao and Laoye where the cats hang out. Then we all had supper and headed to bed fairly early, as tomorrow will be an early day.

(Continue to 20 December: Lalibela - Churches galore)

New posts from Ethiopia

Hello all ! Below you will find six posts for the first week of our Ethiopia adventure. I tried posting on Wednesday, at Gondar, but couldn't access blogspot (as expected) and the computer I was using didn't have MS Word so I couldn't open my files to post via e-mail. I treid sending the files to a friend who has access to my blog, but didn't quite remember her e-mail address. Today in Lalibela the computer does have Word so I am attempting to post via e-mail. I hope it works!

 

Internet here costs 1 birr a minute, which is about 11 cents. So it works out to $6.60 an hour. That's not too bad when one is a tourist and just wants to use the net for e-mail from time to time, but if one lived here and wanted to do any surfing or browsing, it could get very expensive, especially as the connections are slow.

 

In a half hour or less we are on our way to the airport to fly back to Addis, where we will spend the next three days, celebrating Christmas with some new friends on the 23^rd and on our own (I think) on the 25^th. Then off for another tour before turning our attention to family building.

 

Read and enjoy!

---

Instant message from any web browser! Try the new Yahoo! Canada Messenger for the Web BETA

Lalibela - A relaxing day

Friday, 21 December

Our original itinerary today had called for a 7-km donkey ride and hike up to the top of a nearby mountain in the morning, followed by a visit to the final group of churches. However, we all felt rather churched out; Laolao wasn't keen on riding a donkey; I'm not supposed to ride horses (or other animals presumably) because of my artificial hip; and the hiking part of the trek would likely have been rough. In short, nobody was terribly keen on a lot of exertion, so it called for a change of plans.
Giggles, on the other hand, WAS keen on riding a donkey, and frankly we'd been hyping it up for her all week as something to look forward to when we were dragging her through churches and monasteries and palace ruins, so we needed to come through on that promise. The revised itinerary our guide suggested looked like this: a one-hour donkey ride for Giggles through the town, instead of up the mountain, with the rest of us walking alongside, followed by a drive to a scenic viewpoint from which we could survey the landscape and take pictures. That would do for the morning. Then we'd have some free time in the afternoon, and at four o'clock he'd take us to a coffee ceremony and then to a place to sample honey mead (aka tej, the local brew). That sounded good, so it was agreed.

I did not, however, sleep very well last night. I awoke at around two o'clock, and when by 3:30 I was still awake, fired up the computer to do some blog writing. At 5:30 I fell back asleep, only to be awakened by a girl jumping on me at 7:15. While I attempted to sleep for a further hour – sending said girl off to jump on Laolao and Laoye – it was in vain, as a new interruption arose at every ten minutes, or so it seemed, making real sleep impossible. Finally I dragged myself out of bed at 8:15, showered, and dressed. Laolao and Laoye had departed, accompanying Giggles on her ponyback ride through the village, so I ate a late breakfast, finishing just when they returned at 10 o'clock.

We all piled into the van, then, and headed off to the lookout point. The road took us higher on a winding road. We were traversing a narrow ridge, where the cliff fell away on both sides of the road, when the van stopped just as the road was about to make a hairpin turn, and we were instructed to disembark – this was it! Disembark we did, and strayed towards the steep cliffside – but not too close. Far down in the valley we could see fields, a few dwellings, some cows, and a threshing circle in operation. Further up the opposite mountain lay terraced fields.

Suddenly, people began to arrive out of thin air. A young woman appeared over the lip of the cliff as if emerging from the earth itself: first her head, then her torso, followed by skirt and feet. She spoke briefly to Kasa, then slipped back down. He said she was his niece and lived down in the valley. Next came some school children. First three, then two more and yet another two. The first three said "Hello"; we spoke to them, asking them questions about what they were doing, their ages, and so on. I took some video of them and showed it to them, which was a source of great amusement. One young fellow was carrying what looked like a thick stick over his shoulder; I asked what it was for and he took it off his shoulder, revealing a metal-bladed digging tool. He proceeded to demonstrate its use in the ground at our feet; I videotaped him, then the other two children had to have a go and I videotaped them in turn, again showing them the resulting shots. One of the three, the one with the digging tool, spoke fairly good English. He said he was ten years old and in Grade 6. Another was 12, in Grade 7. They showed us the textbooks they were carrying – a few scribblers and thin texts; none of the fat heavy texts and exercise books Canadian children lug around as early as Grade 2! And no backpacks or even bookbags either, just a few items tucked under the arm. The Grade 7 chemistry text was in English; the boy it belonged to haltingly read a paragraph to me. I asked him if it was hard; he said it was.

I wonder how much they can absorb when the information is presented in a second language they may not have mastered well. I suppose it is possible to learn to understand a written language without being able to speak or even pronounce it well, but I am certain the information would "stick" much more easily if it were in their own language. This does, however, help to explain why the agencies for which we were collecting donations asked for educational materials in simple language – if the children's higher education (meaning Grade 7 and up) is all presented in English, it is necessary for them to get a good grounding in the language. If texts can be found that will present things in a simple yet informative manner, this will be of great assistance to both ends.

We would have liked to give these seven children a little something. Laolao had a few pieces of bread we had kept from breakfast for a snack; she passed these out, but otherwise we had nothing appropriate to give as we had departed not expecting to find ourselves in such a situation. Not even a pen or pencil.

We said goodbye to our little friends and headed back to the hotel where we enjoyed, once again, a hearty meal, eating all we wanted. I had brought a few of Giggles' homework pages along to lunch, and she and I sat there to finish them off while Laolao and Laoye headed off. When we reached the hotel we started playing with Bunny, then Giggles decided to chase butterflies in the grounds.

A few moments later Laolao and Laoye showed up – on the way back from lunch they had come across a German tour group visiting the local school and had tagged along. They visited a Grade 7 classroom, which consisted of about 70 students in one class, sitting in rows of benches. The back rows had desks attached to the back of the bench in front, but those seated in the front row had to work on their laps. As with the school in the village town by the Blue Nile falls, the school operates in two shifts. Grades 1 to 6 go in the morning from about 7:00 to 12:00 and the higher grades, 7 to 10 I believe, go in the afternoon from about 1:00 to 6:00. The school has about 2000 students and 51 teachers. The German group had brought along some notebooks and other supplies, which they gave to the school administrators.

As Giggles was totally engrossed in chasing butterfiles, and every time I came near she compained that the noise I made scared them away, I went into our room and did some more blog writing while Laolao and Laoye napped in theirs. Giggles was perfectly safe within the hotel compound and I had no fear she would stray outside it. She managed to capture two small butterflies, then a half hour before our afternoon activities were to begin, she came inside and we played with bunny.

The coffee ceremony took place in a home a short walk down the street.

The woman performing the ceremony was traditionally garbed in the white gown with embroidered neckband and a white headdress. Incense was already wafting through the air, and the barazier upon which the coffee would be roasted was blazing. Lightly sweetened popcorn was ready, along with some pan bread. We seated ourselves at the table and watched and munched as Kasa explained what was happening. First she poured the green coffee beans into a pan and carefully roasted them over the coals, stirring them frequently with a spoon to ensure they didn't burn. This took a good ten or fifteen minutes.

Once they were done to her liking, she poured the roasted beans into a small mortar and ground them with a thin pestle. Then she set the kettle to boil over the brazier, and when the water was ready, added the ground coffee to the water in great quantity. Finally she poured the thick brew into small cups and served us.

Now, I'm not a coffee drinker, and while I like the smell of coffee I never drink the stuff. I have attempted to do so on several occasions and always set the brew aside inn disgust. When I lived in Switzerland and coffee was served every morning with hot milk, I tried café latte, but found it a waste of good milk, even with about five times as much milk as coffee. However, I have managed to consume a full cup of coffee on one previous occasion – at a coffee ceremony at the Ghion Hotel in Addis Ababa, just over ten years ago. So I determined that if I could manage a full cup once before I could do so again – and I did! It was very strong, and I added about two good-sized teaspoons of sugar, but I found it not bad. I don't know why it is, that I find this very strong and sweet coffee relatively palatable while I can't stand the usual stuff – and frankly I'm not that interestd in finding out, being as I am quite content to drink my favourite brew, tea. But I do wonder…

Following the coffee ceremony, our van arrived to take us up the hill to a local pub for a sample of the other national drink, tej, or honey mead. This establishment was located in a good-sized compound. The owner had a barn where he apparently had a (small) milk operation; the evidence of this was a calf tied up in a small stall across the courtyard from the tej house. Giggles, of course, immediately had to go pet the calf and chase the cat, who was too shy to allow herself to be petted.


The upper barn was piled to the rafters with hay; we also saw three or four doors behind which lay rooms that the owner apparently rented out to local people. Kasa said the house was very nice; to our eyes – from the exterior at least – it appeared rather dingy. Though things are not always what they appear. However, it did appear as though this place, like most others, lacked what we would call basic sanitation, as Giggles and I discovered the toilet facilities behind the barn – a rather smelly squatty potty of the outhouse variety (which thankfully we did not need to use). However, given the variety of occupations and sources of income, it did appear that the owner would probably be considered among the beter off among Lalibela's population. He could, after all, afford electricity, which Kasa said was not something to be found in every dwelling.

The tej house itself was nicely appointed, with many decorations gracing the walls and decent benches around the outside at which the patrons would sit to imbibe.

We, of course, were there rather early, so no other patrons were about. We ordered a sample of both the light and medium tej. The light was very light, rather little more than honey water; the medium on the other hand did have a bit of a kick to it. I drank from the light and rather enjoyed it, though did not drink much; Laolao and Laoye each took more of the medium, with Laoye drinking the most. He was rather indifferent to it, declaring he neither liked not disliked it.

Kasa had said these establishments were also places for dancing. We asked him what kind of dancing and could he demonstrate, but he was not willing to oblige. He did, however, call in a few teenagers who were lounging about along with some small children in the anteroom. They, in contrast, were happy to oblige, putting on some rousing music and demonstrating the hip and shoulder movements typical of the type of dancing they engage in – not altogether different, I would imagine, from the dancing found in Canadian dance halls. (This may have been typical Ethiopian music and dancing, but I would be willing to wager it does not fall under the category anthropologists would classify as traditional.)

As we waited for the van to pick us up following this bit of diversion, a half dozen little boys gathered off the street at the entrance to the compound. They performed the usual "Hello" ritual, watching us wide-eyed. Giggles wondered in particular why they stared at her. "Maybe," Laolao said, "it's because you have a toy." Giggles was carrying Funny Bunny Girl. "They may not have any toys to play with. See the plastic bottle that little fellow is carrying?" He was tossing it towards Laoye, seeming to want him to play catch, or something akin to hacky-sack with it. "That's his toy – just an empty bottle he found somewhere. They may never have seen a real store-bought toy before." Several of the children had runny eyes, possibly a sign of trachoma. Something that can be treated – but only if there are doctors available to treat it, and only if the parents can afford to pay the doctors…

During these two encounters with the children today, Poppet has been on my mind. I think of how he may well have been born in a village such as this, to parents in circumstances among the lesser fortunate of those we have been seeing. Had fate been different, he might yet have been living with one or both his birthparents in his hometown, one of the multitude of relatively ragged children occupying a seat in an overcrowded, ill-equipped school, trying (eventually) to learn his lessons in a language he might not grasp well, making his own toys from the scattered objects he finds along the road. Instead, he will soon embark upon a journey that will totally transform his life, landing in a world where the problems of excess far outnumber those of want, where he will have absolutely everything he needs and many, many of the things he wants, where he will likely never know true physical hunger, where finding medical care is as easy as making a phone call… He will have education, opportunity, love and attention. Is this good? Yes, absolutely. And yet it comes with an inexpressible sadness, that to begin this new life he must lose everything: his birth family, his people, his language, much of his history, culture and identity, his connections to this beautiful land. A sadness that these same opportunities are not available in this, the country of his birth. A sadness that it is not possible right here and now, to provide these same opportunities to all these beautiful children, here in their own land, their own language, their own home.

(Continue to 22 December: Back to Addis)