Big Dan's Ethiopian Adventures @hilldan - Tumblr Blog

Politics

You’re probably wondering why, after last week’s final feeling post, I’ve still got another to go. Well, it sounds ludicrous, but I really wanted to give you at least one post about the Ethiopian political landscape, and I didn’t dare post it until I was safely on UK soil. Sounds extreme, but asides from not wanting my blog shut down whilst I was away, I also didn’t want to find myself in prison or unable to leave the country because of being negative about the Ethiopian government. Perhaps a little paranoid, but as you read on you might understand why…

I suspect anyone outside Ethiopia has never considered the Ethiopian political landscape; and what’s more, you’ve probably never heard much about it. This is not an accident. Ethiopia runs a tight ship about what news stories get out. And despite calling themselves a “democratic republic”, it’s more of a one party dictatorship. Other parties are marginalised, and people who go against the government run the risk of finding themselves in trouble; violence against the people was prevalent in the election before last, even though very little was reported on it.

The reason the government gets away with so much and very little gets reported outside the country is primarily down to the “power countries” in the west turning a blind eye to all the shenanigans. I know how conspiracy theory this sounds, but Ethiopia is the most stable of all the countries in the horn of Africa, and the military importance of Ethiopia cannot be underestimated. The US in particular have a strong military presence so they can keep an eye on all the surrounding countries, and they and other western countries would rather let some often significant human rights issues pass than have to worry about losing their military safe house in the horn. Big talk you’re thinking, but I can give you an example. During my time here, Uganda was all over the news as a result of some extreme anti-gay laws. The west was enraged, to the point where many countries, including the US and the UK, were discussing cutting aid if the laws went through. Within 6 months Ethiopia pushed through almost identical laws, and yet it didn’t get any mention outside word of mouth in the country.

I could go on about the Ethiopian political landscape, but in the interest of keeping things concise, I want to give you one more unjust example of political union and oppression before trying to offer some balance and then giving you the closing paragraph to my last Ethiopian blog. This example is internet related. You’ve heard me complaining before about how Ethiopia is incapable of running a mobile network and how internet is unreliable to levels that are hard to believe. With such terrible internet service in place, you’ll be intrigued to learn that they have one of the most sophisticated internet monitoring and filtering systems in use in the world. The US put it in on the premise they can use it to monitor terrorist activity. The reality is it is used to stop Ethiopians getting any information that might give them ideas. You’d be surprised at what gets blocked. I’ve heard of Atheism websites being blocked, I’ve heard of at least one volunteer website getting blocked (for making anti-government comments), and around the time of the Egypt uprising any related news reports seemed to be getting filtered. Information is power, and the Ethiopians are definitely restricted to prevent disturbances.

I should point out, in an African context, the government must be doing some things right. Ethiopia has a violent crime rate at levels far lower than most other African countries. The quality of its national airline I’ve discussed before. And the evidence is there that they have done good work on food security in the country over the past 10 years.

When I first arrived, someone pointed out that “the Ethiopian government could be a lot better, but if you look at the likes of Libya and Congo it could also be a lot worse”. Wise words. But you can’t help but feel like it’s a matter of time before stuff kicks off; the general rule is people won’t knock the government in public, but behind closed doors there is discontent. And I have never heard an Ethiopian praise their government. Not one single person. I just hope that if and when the Ethiopian people start to stand up against the government, the bloodshed is minimal and the western forces in the country finally open their eyes and do what’s right. It’s the very least the Ethiopian people deserve.

The end is nigh

I spent a good month before sending the confirmation emails about by departure muttering to myself “I’m ready to go”. Ready to not have power cuts, internet shortages, poor phone networks, as many frustrating days at work. Ready to see my friends and family, eat bacon, eat a wide and varied diet. Really ready.

But no sooner had I got my flights booked and started telling people, had I started to realise how difficult it is saying goodbye to the last two and a half years of my life. I’ve made a lot of friends, and for every pesky little scamp that shouts farenji at you in the street, there’s 20 other Ethiopians who are just the most lovely, warm generous people you could ever meet. Life is tough here at time, but there are plenty of positives which more than make up for it.

And it’s at this point I face a dilemma of which direction to take this blog. I could go down a route of thanking everyone. I could go down the route of listing things I’m going to miss. I could painstakingly list all the annoyances to snap me out of the inevitable day back home when I’m missing the place. I kind of feel like I’ve covered all this at some point over the last two years though. As my life is about to turn to its next new exciting adventure, and as this is the second to last blog entry (one more to come, but I can’t post it till I get home), I feel like I should finish with something profound, touching, sentimental, inspiring...

… And yet how can you sum up a country and an experience like this in a few words? I don’t think I can. When I think about the last two and a half years, and I know this is a cliché, but it’s really been a rollercoaster. Some days you’ll be up, some days you’ll be down, some days you’ll be up and down several times. Some days you’ll feel like your making changes, some days you’ll feel you’re getting nowhere. Some days you’ll feel like you know every single person in the world, some days you’ll feel like the loneliest person on the planet. Some days you’ll be sick, some days you’ll be drunk, some days you’ll full, some days you’ll be all of those things. Some days you’ll miss home, some days you’ll feel at home. Some days you’ll get sunburnt, some days you’ll get soaked. Two days are rarely the same, and despite the challenges and the low points, one thinks for sure: it’s been memorable. Thanks for the adventure Ethiopia, the next one’s got a lot to live up to.

Work Update 4

I’ve had few attempts at writing my final work update – I feel like it’s kind of important to get it right, not just so you have a fair idea about what I did, or so that any future employers who might stumble across this will want to hire me, but also so that I have an accurate reminder about what I achieved. As always I’ve tried to write this without getting too technical, because if you’re not in IT you’d be asleep before I could say “virtualisation”.

If you’ve not worked in the developing world, it might look like I’ve not done much. It’s easy to think that, but I’m going to start by explaining why this isn’t the case, and it’s something I’ve mentioned in the past: EVERYTHING that involves money or other people TAKES FOREVER here. It’s no joke – purchasing the equipment would have taken, at the very most, two weeks in England – and in all honesty from the point of being told “here’s the money” to getting everything in my hands ready to setup could be done in 48 hours back home if required. That process here took in excess of 8 months. There’s a previous blog on this – but even once the kit was in the college, the delays mount up with surprising ease. Getting the stuff out the store took a few days in itself – and I’m grateful I got the majority of stuff out the store when I did, as due to an ongoing legal matter with the former store keeper, the stores been shut for over a year – annoying for me as I’ve got switches stuck in there which means we’ve not got all computers connected still, but a nightmare for the college as they have a years supply of toner, stationary, cleaning materials, and who knows what else they still can’t access because of the still ongoing dispute. As I said, anything that involves money or other people takes forever. Once I had the stuff, things I could do on my own I got done – I spent a lonely summer in my office getting the servers virtualised and configured. Virtualised means I can save the college money by splitting one physical server into three virtual servers. Basically one server does the job of three. I also was able to crack on with testing on my own, and stuff like documentation has been one of my side projects to keep me busy when I’ve not been able to get hold of people… which leads me nicely onto the next round of delays…

…You see, getting hold of people has always been the challenge here. Here’s an example: I needed to put up trunking, patch cabinets, wall sockets, and run cable in around 9 buildings. For the most part, each building consists of around 8 offices, each office having its own staff members with their own keys and their own schedule. For the job of trunking, I needed at least one of the carpenters, because they are in charge of the college drill, and putting up trunking is a two man job. (Trunking is long plastic tubes to hide cable). I also needed the key holder for the particular office to be there to let me in. This was a challenge, but getting the cable done was worse, because you’d need all 8 offices open at the same time, and staff do not like letting the key out of their sight. Of course, this meant that if just one person was missing, the job would be postponed, and with teaching schedules and personal schedules, this was an ongoing challenge, and as a result, a job that would take a week or two takes three plus months… and this isn’t taking into account drill breakdowns, screw shortages, power cuts, and other such drama’s which add delays of anything from few hours to a few months…

I could go on about other such delays, (anything to do with Ethiotel, the sole telecommunications provider, for example, would have me buying wigs just so I could pull my hair out) but I think you have enough to get the idea, this isn’t England and what should take a week will probably take three months.

Now then is the time for this article to take its happy twist. Because despite the delays, the challenges, the days when I’ve wanted to scream or cry or go home because stuff isn’t moving, I’ve achieved a lot. The college has a Local Area Network – which means computers are more secure and reliable, there’s shared drives for departments to share information, an email server, and the internet’s quicker and more reliable too. The library now has student internet access too with its own computer suite, which is set up in such away the students should be able to break them. What’s more this is all just solid foundation for everything the college might want to do in the future; student registration systems, inventory databases, library catalogues, all possibilities with a nice secure network for them now to work on. The college also has it’s first ever website, which is clean, simple, responsive (works on different devices/screen sizes) and easy to update. On top of all this I’ve done a lot of training with the IT team so they can use everything once I leave, and this is backed up with more documentation than a nuclear reactor – except all my documentation is written in simple, easy, step by step guides… there’s no excuse for things not to keep going when I finish.

Time I think for an awesome last paragraph. Are you ready…?

Assela College of Teacher Education is now in the top three of Ethiopian colleges for ICT infrastructure, setup and resources (better than some universities too) – and that’s down to me. I’ve had support, particularly from the college management, but without me the college would have a barely working wireless internet and nothing else. That’s something I’m proud of, something I hope the college is proud of to, and most importantly something which I hope leads to a better quality of education for its students for the years to come.

Wok Update 4 - The server room and the library IT suite

Things for me to remember

One of the things I wanted to do before I leave is jot down some reminders for when I’m back home – stuff to remember when I’ve slipped back into western life, and things like the transport system are starting to wear me down. Here is that list – feel free to pull me up on it if I’m bitching about anything related to the following:

Not to complain about going to Tesco

Not to complain when the bus/train is late

Not to complain about my mobile network

To enjoy farting without the ever present risk of something bad happening

Not to complain in restaurants about slow service

When bitching about our politicians to be grateful that we have some choice and live in the nearest thing there is to a proper democracy.

Not to complain about the UK postal service.

Not to complain about the NHS.

To enjoy travelling on roads where the risk of animals running in front of a vehicle moving at 70mph+ is very slim

That I’m a lucky fella for being born in a country where we have everything, we can go anywhere, and we have more opportunities than I can think of a simile for.

Big Dan’s Ethiopian Dictionary

I’m going to come out with a small but annoying range of Amharic words when I get back – hopefully I’ll remember where I am in a relatively short space of time so you won’t need to beat me… but to save me having to explain it when I make a mistake and come up with a bit of Amharic, here’s the key words and phrases I’m going to be trying hard not to say when I’m back in Blighty. Don’t hate me, just tell me to stop being a dick and speak English.

Ishi = OK. Get’s used approximately 1000 times a day, to show you’re listening, or you understand, or you have nothing else to say, or you’re a stupid farenji with no other reply. The word I’m going to most struggle with getting out my repertoire.

Lemon? = Why? Nuff said. I rarely understand the answer here, so I don’t know lemon I ask…

Min? = What? Again, nuff said. Used with surprise, inquisition, disgust or many other emotions depending on your requirement!

Isoh/isosh = Be strong (masculine/feminine). This one I’m going to miss. It gets used for anything from the sarcastic sounding isoh for a little stumble in the street to the full on isoh to a grieving relative. Also going to be a tricky one to stop using, particularly as it’s so useful and there’s not really an equivalent multi purpose word like this in English.

Chiger illum = No problem. Often used after six ishi’s.

Eetch alal = it’s possible. This can mean yes, no, or maybe. Sometimes tricky to work out exactly what the reply is.

An open letter to the volunteers of VSO Ethiopia

Dear Volunteers,

This is a letter that may seem a little ironic, as I’m effectively going to have a moan about people moaning. Ignore this irony; I’m about to make some important points a small number of volunteers need to hear.

Let’s start with the issue of our VSO living allowance. VSO pay for our accommodation, our guards if we need them, and on top of this they give us a living allowance of just over 3000 birr (£100) a month for food and other essentials. All I seem to be hearing from the small majority is how “this isn’t enough” and how annoyed people are that the process for re-evaluating what our living allowance should be still hasn’t started yet (edit – it’s now well under way since I first wrote this). I’ll be the first to admit that inflation has been rampant in Ethiopia over the last couple of years, and that in light of the fact there has been no allowance review in this period, the process should probably get underway sooner rather than later. However: GET A GRIP PEOPLE. I dread to think how many millions of people in this country earn what we get given to live on or less each month. For the vast majority of these people they also have to pay for their housing, support their families, and pay for their health care. This is a fact, regardless of your location within the country. Also, let’s not forget that the ethos of VSO was always that we (volunteers) should live like the locals do. If we use Addis as an example, I’d suggest that well over two thirds of locals don’t have the funds to go to the British embassy bar on a Friday night, shop at huge supermarkets filled with farenji luxuries, or go for a midweek pizza because they can’t be bothered to cook. Is the VSO allowance enough to cover these kinds of expenses? Of course not, and nor should it be. Is the VSO allowance enough to buy the staples – in Addis or otherwise? Yes. So quit bitching about it.

The moaning of volunteers doesn’t stop there. I don’t want to give specifics or be seen as singling certain culprits out. I also don’t want to hear a constant stream of complaining about how inefficient the VSOE office is, how difficult it is to get stuff done at work, or just generally bitching about every single of aspect of life here. What exactly were you expecting? If Ethiopia was like England or Canada we wouldn’t be needed here. VSO London, in my opinion, made it very clear it wasn’t going to be easy, and yet some volunteers seem to forget all they were told the second the plane lands in Addis. I, for one, am sick of it. You have something 95% of Ethiopians don’t have – a choice as to whether you stay here or not.

I have a couple of requests at this point of proceedings. The first is for VSO London: Please find some sort of test to incorporate into the selection process to eliminate the serial whiners. They’re bad for business! Point number two is for volunteers: Please don’t think I’m saying no moaning full stop. It’s tough here. Every now and again you need to get it out your system. Everyone does. I have a moan a couple of times a week about one thing or another. It’s normal. It’s human. It’s healthy. It’s probably essential to keep yourself sane. The thing I’d like you to think about is how often you do it and who you moan to. Don’t do it all the time. I’ve met the odd volunteer who I’ve never heard anything non-moany from. That’s not good. Also, don’t moan at the office. There isn’t an office in the world that can’t be improved, but you certainly won’t get any reasonable improvement by complaining – it’s just gets peoples backs up, because that's just human nature. Most importantly though, don’t moan to the locals. They live it, and have done all their life. They have no choice. They certainly don’t want to hear some “has it all” foreigner bellyaching about it. Not only that, you’re representing VSO and your country – all your moaning can only be damaging to the view Ethiopians have of our organisation and country.

Jerry Springer style final thought time. To all the volunteers who this doesn’t apply to, I’m sorry you had to read this. And it really is the huge, vast majority of volunteers to which this doesn’t apply. Volunteers who are lovely people who embrace this country and want to try and do a little something (and in a lot of cases a big something) to improve it. But for the small number this does apply to, who spend every minute of the day complaining: shut up and go home. I’ve had enough of it, and I’m sure a lot of other people have too.

Coffee: It's not a joke

If you haven’t realised from previous blogs, coffee is a big deal in Ethiopia. It’s drunk daily (more than once) and the coffee ceremony is statutory at every big event. Not having a coffee ceremony at any event is a level of faux-pa equivalent to not playing the national anthem before an England game, or greeting the Queen of England by calling her a c**t and giving her a grope. In case you’re wondering, this analogy is pretty accurate – coffee is THAT big a deal. With my impending departure, below (for my benefit as much as yours) is the process top to bottom of making coffee, and having the ceremony. A few points of note: There’s no instant coffee here, so coffee starts at the bean roasting stage. From kicking off the coal fire to washing the jebena (Ethiopian coffee pot) the whole thing takes about 2 hours. I’ve put a few photos below. Oh, and I did my first coffee ceremony the other weekend for my compound family, which went pretty well, but then they oversaw the whole thing to make sure I didn’t screw it up. I was telling a friend of mine about this, and his response was simple. Coffee, it’s not a joke.

What you’ll need:

Coffee beans

Water

Roasting pan

Fire

Mortar and pestle

Jebena

Coffee cups

Coffee table

Decorative grass

Food (popcorn or colo are most popular) – its really bad form to have coffee without some kind of food)

Incense

Sugar

Method:

Start your fire first; it takes a while for the coals to get hot.

Get your stuff set up, table and cups out, grass laid out, coffee pot on its stand.

Wash the beans: enough beans to cover a dinner plate will do about three coffee ceremonies for three people. When the water runs clear you’re ready.

Roast the beans until dark brown. You’ll need to keep them moving in the roasting pan to ensure even roasting. You’ll know its ready when there’s no light beans.

Smoke out the jebena for a richer flavour (bit of burning wood in the top) then get it on the heat and put the water in. I think the ratio is 1 glass of water per spoon of coffee per person)

Whilst the waters boiling, grind your beans! It should look like the ground stuff you buy in England – ie. No lumps, all powder!

When there’s steam it’s time to add the coffee on the rough ratio’s above.

The next bit is a little mystery to me – pour the coffee to test the consistency – add water or coffee as required, and return what you poured back to the pot. Repeat until its right.

Heat it again until there’s steam.

Take it off the heat and rest the jebena on an angle to let the sediment settle.

After a couple of minutes pour the coffee. Seems to be the way to poor it from a height…

Add water to the pot and back on the heat for round two. When it’s steaming add about 2/3rds the coffee you did for the first round.

repeat steps 8-11

Add water to the pot and back on the heat for round three. When it’s steaming add about a third the coffee you did for the first round.

Repeat steps 8-11

Clean your coffee pot, and tidy up after saying goodbye to your guests.

As you can see, it’s not quite as simple as sticking a spoon of instant in a cup, but it’s about a million times tastier, so worth the hassle. And I’ll gladly attempt an Ethiopian coffee ceremony for you back home on request – it might not be as good as it is here though...

Coffee: It's not a joke

The culture gap: Living with celebrity

There are many reasons why the fame of being a ferenji in Ethiopia shouldn’t bother me. The body of Arnie, the face of Beckham (David, before you start) and most of all the fact I’m at least half a foot taller than your average bear means even in Blighty I would get more than my fair share of attention. Children would stare in slack-jawed amazement with a hopeful twinkle in their eye that one day they would be as tall as the giant walking past them in the street. Girls would stop talking and give me the once over as I strolled by. And blokes would come up to me to discuss ‘whether or not it was cold up there’. Please note, if you haven’t picked up the tone of this article yet, that only one of the three items above is true.

Dealing with such fanfare should have stood me in good stead for the constant attention I would get in Ethiopia, and as you would expect I will now attempt to tell you whether or not it has. Short answer: no. Long answer: most of the time, kind of.

There are a few reasons why it’s a bit more tricky to deal with the attention here than it is back home. Firstly, it’s constant. Whilst my introduction makes it sound like I have paparazzi camped outside my flat in England and I can’t walk the street for all the screaming female fans, I was of course being creative to make this an interesting read. It is however not an exaggeration to say that even in the relatively ferenji friendly town of Assela, I can’t leave the house without getting some kind of attention. It’s very rarely anything other than friendly, but reason number 2 elaborates on why even the friendly attention can still be a problem…

…Moodiness. Back home I’d say I have a very even temperament. Here, that is not always the case. So many things can put a dent in your usually chipper personality. Works often more likely to challenge your mood compared to back home. Tummy trouble can be a mood threatener. Power, water, and/or internet problems can test your patience. Home sickness. A sleepless night due to noise from a nearby religious establishment or a shouty dog can trigger a bad day. This isn’t to say on other days the joys of this country – food, coffee, laid back attitudes, a good day at work, a good laugh with your habesha friends, to name but a few – can’t have you skipping home offering high fives (or very high fives in my case) to anyone that wants one. And this makes my point, when you’re up you’re up, and when you’re down the last thing you want to do is shake the hands of 50 grubby kids on the way home.

The final big reason it can be a struggle is that of the language barrier. I’ve now got over 30 years of witty retorts in the bank for the millions of tall comments I get every year. Here I can’t even think of a word to rhyme with ferenji. In any language. This makes it difficult to break down the barriers sometimes, and is maybe more frustrating on the days you’re not in the mood for the rude drunk shouting at you from the other side of the road.

Once again we come to the part of the article where we wrap things up into a beautiful, concise, eloquent conclusion. My answer to the question “how do you deal with the ferenji fame of being in Ethiopia?” may make me sound like a drunken hippy at Glastonbury (Britain’s number one music festival for those who don’t know). However, having been here for two years now I know it to be accurate, for me at least. The answer, quite simply, is smile. Even on those tough days, when you really have to grit your teeth to do it. You’d be amazed at the difference it makes. It diffuses the idiots, it keeps the kids from pestering you more than normal, and if you’re really lucky it will perk you up too. In my experience, good things happen more when you’ve got a smile on your face.

The latest (and my last) VSO Ethiopia Newsletter. The same stunning design, and a little article from me - which you can read above if for some crazy reason you don't want to download the whole beautiful thing!

Variety really is the spice of life

After all this time I had a look through my list of topics I wanted to cover during my time here. One of the ones I missed was the subject of cooking for myself. What do I eat? An important question that probably deserves a blog.

Remove the idea that food is scarce in Ethiopia; that may be true in small pockets of the country, probably around the border, but for the most part there is plenty of food available. The problem with feeding yourself is one of variety: you just don’t have that much choice in what you can buy. Little choice, but plenty of it. Carrots, tomatoes, garlic, onions, potatoes, ginger, cabbage and chilli’s are the regulars on the market. Occasionally stuff like green beans will crop up. Again, friends and family know I’m a carnivore, and all this is not exciting to me. Meat, straight off the cow and bought by the half kilo is available at the butcher. The little shops that litter the town sell the stables of rice and pasta, and usually bread and eggs too. The towns “supermarket” (don’t think Tesco’s, its just a big shop with more stuff behind the counter) sells other bits like porridge, sunflower oil, and in the last 6 months he’s even started to sell a few luxuries like mars bars and Mr Potato crisps (like knock-off Pringles). Limited fruits are available too. As you can see, it’s not exactly a stroll around the supermarket (something I’m suddenly enthusiastic about doing) but it’s enough to keep my 2 metres of appetite under control.

Those who know me will be aware that potty mouth aside I’m no Gordon Ramsey. I had some “signature dishes” before leaving England… but no oven means roast dinners and shepherds pies are not on the menu. However, I’ve taught myself a few new dishes to get by on the limited supplies and so I don’t need to become a lentil eating hippy with that weird disease… what’s it called… vegetarianism. I’ve learnt to cook a mean curry (curry spices are available in Addis, although I got some sent from home as you can actually taste them). Stew’s easy enough, and a firm favourite. Home made pasta sauce is often a boring and time consuming option, although it becomes a bit more exciting when you have some home sent pepperami to add to it. I also knock up a mean Spanish omelette although on the rather lame electric stoves it takes a fair while. I also find stir-fry crops up on the menu fairly often.

On top of dealing with a menu that’s not going to get me a Michelin star, the challenge of getting dinner cooked is often interesting. When the powers on, us VSOers have a little electric hob at our disposal. It does the job, but sometimes I think it would be quicker to stick it in the sun. At night. Second option for when the power cuts kick in is the kerosene stove. This does the job, but kerosene’s not exactly cheap, and only one place the other end of town sells it these days. The third option is the authentic Ethiopian stove. Essentially it’s a little pot sized barbeque. It takes half hour to get ready (even when done by an Ethiopian – which it usually is because my compound family insist it’s not a job for a farenji boy) and then you have a similar problem to the electric in that it never seems to get properly hot. Again, its cheap and does the job, but its not exactly easy.

As you can see, with cooking challenges and a limited menu, it gets pretty tedious pretty quickly. Even by mixing it up by eating out every so often, trips to Addis are often a welcome and necessary respite to the monotony. Although at this stage even that is doing little to quell the desire to get back home and shovel all manor of food stuffs into my mouth at a rate that will make me look like a fat lad stuck inside a slim lads body. I can’t wait. My Mum’s already started stocking up on bacon ready for my return.

2014 Christmas gift ideas for your kids

Not for the first time, my business mind is telling me that the Ethiopia is ahead of the curve, and by looking at what the kids have been playing with over the past year, I think I can give you in the western world an advanced heads up on what will be the popular kids toys for Christmas 2014. So be prepared to take away your kids PlayStation 4 in favour of one of the following…

Rope – more specifically 3 bits of rope tied in a loop so you can play some kind of jumpy rope game with your friends. Generally for the ladies of the house this one. Oh, and you’ll ideally need two friends to make it work best – although the lonely child can replace friends with jerry cans.

Stick with hook, and a ring – Yes kids, use the hooked stick to keep that ring moving! Gather your mates for races and let the good times roll!

Marbles – ah, the old classics never go out of fashion. Individual marbles available at all good shops!

Whip – when that 6 week summer holiday starts to drag (because the teachers can’t be arsed to go back to work yet and it’s turned into 2 months of holiday), get that make shift whip out and start cracking away! The louder the better, and the nearer to your mate’s nuts the better too…

Bow and Arrow – home made, with a real sharp point on the make shift arrow too really shit your friends up.

Ball – yes, another staple. But don’t think you need to spend 40 quid on some Adidas pro football; any raggedy, roughly round thing will do. Use rocks for goalposts if footballs your game of choice… or maybe you can just play piggy in the middle, with the Ethiopian twist of trying to hit the person in the middle as hard as possible with the ball!

Bicycle – I know what you’re thinking… lavish right?! Well, yes, but one 80’s happy shopper basketed pushbike will keep an entire neighbourhood of children entertained for hours. The bonus is the extra kids act as make-shift stabilisers for the new to biking youths…

Farenji – seems like the best gift to entertain your children is the white faced not from around here farenji. 2 years walking through the same neighbourhood, and the kids still think it’s the funniest thing to run up, say “how are you?” get a hand shake if they are lucky, then run off and tell their friends all about it. Farenji really is the gift that never gets boring!

Where did all the trust go?

Addis taxi drivers. These creatures are slowly becoming the thing I most dislike about Ethiopia. The yellow airport taxi’s are the worst offenders – taking the fresh faced white man straight off the airplane and straight into a money rinsing cab ride anywhere up to 4 times the regular farenji price. But all (nearly all, I remain hopeful there’s an exception or two somewhere in Addis) are essential guilty of outright racism: the foreigner always pays more.

There are some elements of taking a taxi in Addis you have to accept. You’ll always have to do the haggle dance. He offers a price, you know how much farenji price should be and ask for that, there’s a bit of to and fro, then you either get in or walk away… that act in itself can often get the price you think fair. Haggling is common in many countries, so I’ve learnt to accept it, no matter how much I dislike doing it!

The other thing to accept is that unless you get a local to sort the price whilst you hide, then jump in once it’s sorted, you are always going to pay a higher price than a local for a cab. Even this I’ve come to accept over my time here. But it isn’t this alone that has prompted this blog.

On my last trip, we arrived back in Addis at the airport. The trip to my usual Addis hotel is 100 Birr (so it’s 50-60 for locals… remember this amount rather than the cost in pounds as I explain why I got my brain in a muddle). This time, the airport taxi guy insisted he couldn’t go lower than 120 birr – due to “petrol price increase”. Sounded like shit, I got a bit upset, then phoned one of my “trusted” cabbies to come and pick me up. I thought that was the end of it. But on arrival he also demanded 120 birr claiming “petrol price increase”. I was annoyed. First at him. Then at myself for having my trust eroded to the point I got angry when for all I knew there really was a petrol price increase. Then at the taxi drivers again – even if petrol has gone up, its not gone up that much. And what’s more we’re still paying double what a local would!

Have you followed all that? You’ve done well if you have – even as I sat drinking coffee trying to piece my thoughts together I found it as confusing as a being drunk in a hedge maze the size of London. I’m not even sure there’s a point to this particular blog entry, I think I was mainly hoping that by writing it down it would help me make sense of it. It doesn’t really. I’m still annoyed with Addis taxi drivers. But I’m more annoyed with Ethiopia and/or myself. You see, what the above incident made me realise is just how much Ethiopia has eroded my trust. I remember having a bit of a fight with a bajaj driver in Assela when he charged me 2 birr for a 1.75 journey. He was protesting furiously and eventually, through the language barrier, I realised the price had gone up and he wasn’t just fleecing me. My first reaction should have been to ask why and accept it was a price increase. Instead my first reaction was “you’re ripping me off because I’m white”. I was cross with myself that day. But becoming like that isn’t because I’m a distrustful guy… its come from two years of locals trying to fleece me because of the colour of my skin. And the thing is for every bad egg, there’s two good ones who are honest and helpful and nice. Not fair on them that I’m on guard as a result of the previous day’s shopkeeper adding farenji tax to the bottle of water I wanted to buy.

I think what’s more confusing about my feelings on this subject of paying more because I’m farenji is that I understand. A fellow volunteer once pointed out that Ethiopia is essential capitalism in its rawest form: Everyone tries to get as much as they can for everything. Why shouldn’t they? Poor people trying to get by, feed their families, build a better life for themselves little by little. Seems fair enough for them to think the man who can afford to buy a 15000+ Birr flight can afford to pay an extra 20 birr for a cab.

Despite the reasoning, I still don’t care for those pesky Addis cabbies… and just for the record, the cab back to the airport two days after this incident cost the usual 100 Birr…

The little blog of thanks

The last time my old man came to town, I don’t write a blog about it. Mainly because it would have been short and covering old ground: Assela and Hawassa are places I’ve told you about before. In some ways the second coming of Big T is no different. Assela over Easter, 10 hours on the road, Harar and the hyenas, Ethiopian airlines flight back to Addis… you’ve heard all this before. But at a time when my love for Ethiopia had been waning (I’m told the odd previous post may have reflected this mood) Dad’s trip was well timed for reminding me just how lovely most people in this country are. This then, is a fairly definitive list of thanks to various beautiful people I encountered during my Dad’s recent 10 day trip. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being you, helping us, being super hospitable, and helping me get some Ethiopia love back!

Meron and Blen (VSO Office staff): We bumped into these two lovely ladies at the bank when we went to change some money. When they got to the front of the queue before us they grabbed our dollars and changed them up for us. Not only that, but there was quite a to-do as one of my Dad’s $50 notes was “too new” for the machine that checks the authenticity of foreign currency. Blen to the rescue as she very kindly deposited the note in her account for later verification and gave us the birr from her account. Very kind and saved us a lot of ballache. Thank you both – glad we bumped into you!

The gentleman at Ethiopian Airlines: Next stop on the first morning was to sort internal flights back to Addis at the end of the trip. I expected my Dad’s ticket to cost 3000+ birr. After sorting out my flight at 1100 Birr (local rate) the guy asked if my Dad flew Ethiopian from London. Yes he did. It took the guy some time and effort, but we paid 1800 birr for my dads ticket. An unexpected bonus, Thanks!

Asther and Gabriel (landlady/landlord): Went out of their way to ensure we ate with them on Easter day, by inviting us for breakfast as it was the only time they were home that day. Food as always was delicious, and as I’ll repeat for the next 3 thanks, thank you so much for your warm and generous hospitality, and that doesn’t just apply to whilst my Dad was here!

Eshetu: Easter lunch with all the farenjis at Eshetu’s house. Always a pleasure Eshetu. Food was great, and as I’ll repeat for the next 2 thanks, thank you so much for your warm and generous hospitality, and that doesn’t just apply to whilst my Dad was here! Eshetu gets a special extra mention because he came with us on the rift valley walk, and did a good job keeping the old man company as he struggled through the last couple of kilometres. Bless, he’s not getting any younger.

Frey: Monday lunch, and whilst the aforementioned walk took it’s toll on my Dad’s social etiquette, lunch at Frey’s was great, and as I’ll repeat just for the remaining thanks, thank you so much for your warm and generous hospitality, and that doesn’t just apply to whilst my Dad was here!

Tilahun: Our final Easter dinner (if we had stayed for longer we’d have eaten with people all week). Tilahun’s a friend not related to work, and that’s a group I’ve being seeing less of as work gets more busy. I aim to resolve that as best I can before I leave. Thanks for the delicious food – and the marinated rosemary beef ribs could grace any a UK steak house. For the final time in this section, thank you so much for your warm and generous hospitality, and that doesn’t just apply to whilst my Dad was here!

My Butcher: Open again after 55 days of misery. Hooray! We greeted each other like long lost relatives. I had a little tear in my eye. I didn’t have the chance whilst my Dad was here, but I bet I’ve eaten a kilo of your Shakla tibs by the time this gets posted. Thanks for re-opening and making me feel like a valued customer!

Everyone from college I bumped into over the week: I’m going to miss all the warmth of everyone at Assela CTE when I leave. Thanks for being so lovely.

The Adama to Harar bus driver: Thanks for not shitting my Dad up too much. Despite what my Dad tells you, it was a pretty good, and pretty safe, journey. Thanks also for feeding us “Khat”. First time I’ve ever tried it, first and last for my Dad too. Ever the wordsmith, his two quotes for this experience were “it’s different” and “just say no”. Wise beyond his ever increasing years…

Helen (my better half): Greeted us from our day on the road with a tea, a beer, a good meal, and was the hostess with the mostess as she showed us around her neck of the woods. She was even a good sport as she played out with us at the football on Sunday. Thanks lovely.

Mark ‘loose canon’ Kakuba: Got us drinking a 11 in the morning, skilfully guided us to the Harar brewery, and gained a new nickname courtesy of his erratic card playing. Thanks Kaks!

Binyam (Harar Tour Guide): The volunteer’s guide of choice for Harar - and the boy knows his stuff. My Dad loved the tour of the old walled city, as I did a year or so ago, and if anyone’s heading out Harar way and needs a guide here is his number: +251 913 448811. Thanks Binyam!

Finally, thanks to my Dad for coming out here. Twice. Bringing me treats, having no preconceptions, agreeing to anything I said in terms of what we were going to do whilst he was here, and generally being, as Helen put it, ‘a good sport’. It’s not exactly top of the holiday spots for most people, and it’s a lot to take in when you are here for a short trip. Hope you enjoyed it as much as you said – thanks for visiting!

The Learning Curve 3

More than two years and the learning still isn’t finished. Here’s the latest round of important things I’ve learnt and am learning in Ethiopia.

Having no services may be better than having unreliable services. You need more explanation don’t you? The thing is, over he last two weeks my frustration with Ethiopian services has hit an all time high. Unreliable internet, unreliable power, unreliable water, unreliable mobile network. When it’s all working its great. When it isn’t you miss them… and what’s more the infamous “law of the sod” means stuff always goes off when you need them. And that’s when you scream louder than a girl at a boy band concert.

I shouldn’t be moaning about the frustrating services when in a few months I get to go home. 90 million Ethiopians will still have to put up with this shit for years. For the same reason I shouldn’t be moping around the house just because I’ve not been able to Skype with home – I’m lucky to own a computer, know how to use it, and to have access to the internet (intermittent or not). Not everyone in this country is in that position.

Number 2 point is quite humbling isn’t it? Remembering number 2 point and being humbled by it does not stop me doing it.

There are a lot of shit films in the world. And after two years it appears all I have left on my computer are shit films.

The TV show “my super sweet 16” is not an appropriate TV show to air on any station that goes out to a developing country.

Variety is the spice of life. Never has this been truer after two years of cooking with the same with the same very limited ingredients. My mum was worried before I left England that I wouldn’t have enough to eat. Quantity of food is not a problem. What she should have been worried about is me going insane at having to eat the same meals over and over. I’m really looking forward to going home and being spoilt for choice. Refer back to point number 2 as to why this is wrong.

The year is 2022. Portsmouth FC are winning European honours for the fifth year in a row, and Big Dan is now considered the greatest football manager of modern times. I’m not drunk, or high, I’m simply stating that 2 years playing football management simulator “championship manager” have taught me I should be the next Pompey manager. To be fair I’ve been saying this for years, but now I have the proof…

I shouldn’t be wishing my life away. For reasons such as point 2 and point 6, I’m counting down the days till I come home. I know it’s stupid, because I’m almost certain that a month into being home I’ll be wishing I was back here. This confusing logic makes my brain hurt. What’s worse is that despite being able to reason this out, I still find myself doing it.

Writing your CV is rubbish. No more explanation needed on that I think, but it is now complete and ready for when the job hunting begins.

I’ve never met anyone who has ever said the words “I like Jeremy Clarkson”. This is baffling as top gear is the world’s most watched motoring show. Someone must like him…

The highs and lows of Ethiopian bus travel: Part 2

Last week we covered off the areas of bus travel in which Ethiopia excels. This week however we have to cover off the uncomfortable flip side. I should just get started; we have a bit to cover…

Waiting for the bus to fill: when I make the trip from my town to Addis, it isn’t really an issue… but stray from this journey and you will almost always encounter one of the following problems: either the bus is empty, so you can take a good seat, but have to wait an hour for the bus to fill up and leave, or the bus is nearly full and ready to go, but the only seat is next to a whale, over the engine, has even less leg space than normal, or is a box in the middle of the isle…

Traffic cops: I once counted how many times the bus I was on got stopped by the road filth… but I lost count when we hit double figures at less than half way. It wouldn’t be so bad, but generally these cops are just checking the buses paperwork, and as there are very few turn offs on the one road that runs east from Addis, it’s a bit overkill. They’d spend their time better investing in some speed guns in the mountains I reckon…

Windows: I’ve said it before, but it’s frustrating enough to warrant a second mention: Ethiopians, opening a window will not make you sick! Being on a bus with your coat on, and no windows open, and with an outside temperature of over 30 degrees, will probably make you sick.

Chatty: Many Ethiopians chew a plant that acts as a mild stimulant called “chat”. This usually starts after lunch, and leads to the chewers becoming extra talkative: sometimes it’s nice to have a natter with people on the bus. After 2 years here having the same conversation over and over it can get a bit annoying when you’re all hot and bothered. Also, when the drivers also having a munch on the green leafy equivalent of 7 espresso’s, it doesn’t help ease the fear factor of the journey.

Personal space: Ethiopians are lovely, but as a farenji the lack of respect for other people’s personal space can be tough to deal with. Having food spat over you because the person next to you is shouting at someone out the window is never pleasant. One middle age woman I was once sat next to took personal space invasion to new levels as she tucked her feet under me for portions of a bus ride. The same woman also stuck her bum in my face whilst kneeling on the seat to lean out the window. It’s just not very British behaviour is it... everyone knows you should keep yourself to yourself and there should be as little contact as possible!

The need for speed: Fair to say the majority of drivers are a little reckless. On straight roads the speed is not a problem, but the risky overtakes are always a little hair-raising. On the winding mountain roads, the speed is scary, and the risky overtakes are petrifying. Ethiopia doesn’t do accident statistics, but if they did, you wouldn’t want to see them…

Sometimes it’s not easy to write the final paragraph for these blog entries. Today it is. Next time you’re sat on a train about to complain its 10 minutes late, remember it could be worse… and maybe have a conversation with a random and snuggle up next to them to take your mind off it and give them the Ethiopian transport experience!

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