Tamara in Ethiopia

We drove to the place where the Afar were digging a cistern as part of their work for food project. Then we continued on to another site but were told the goats were far away grazing. So we drove to another cluster of huts, interviewed them, and checked out the main storage place. Evenetually, we were back on the road to Logiya. The ride back seemed to go faster and felt less dangerous, since we knew what to expect. Having done his work for the day, A. was a lot more relaxed and chatty. He talked to me about the Afar people, Islam, the Orthodox people and other Westerners he'd met through NGOs. We arrived in Logiya, drenched in sweat from the ride through the desert to find that the electricity was out in our motel. There would be no nice overhead fan. Gosh A., the CR. and his son fought with the owner to let them drag their beds out of the stuffy cramped rooms and sleep under the stars. I opted to sleep in my room but in the middle of the night I couldn't sleep at all for the heat. I ended up sleeping on the cement outside my room with just a pillow. As I was laying there, I saw Gosh A.'s flashlight in the Land Cruiser. He was already packing up around 5:30 am. I was so glad to just get going. We all jumped in, half asleep, and were on our way before the sun rose. The ride back was hot and fairly uneventful, except for the camel crossing. We saw hundreds of camels crossing the road at once. We counted that each camel driver had about fifty and estimated between 400 and 450 camels! It was an AMAZING site! I just stared in disbelief. Gosh A. laughed at me because I couldn't stop saying, "I've never seen so many camels in all my life!!" Of course, on this trip was the first time I'd seen ANY camels. The trip to Afar was quite an exciting introduction to Ethiopia, but I was glad to get back to the cool climate of Addis.

After our run-in with the military, we headed to the homes of some Afar goat herders. Their houses are low, round, igloo-shaped homes, made of sticks and skins. I was amazed that there was life in the middle of the desert. As far as the eye could see there were only rocks and dust. Family groups live near eachother. In this cluster there were about five homes. Even though the sun was blistering, the people came out to stare at us when when drove up. Women and children squatted down and watched us from a safe distance. They were very shy of cameras and covered their faces with thier head coverings. Quickly the elder came forward. He had a bushy greying beard and very little hair on his head. He wore a piece of fabric wrapped around his waist. His muddy dress shirt was open to show his wrinkled chest and large beaded necklace. He carried a staff, stereotypical of shepherds. With A. translating, the CR, interviewed him about his herd. How much feed each goat? How does he measure? What time of day is the feeing? Where do they graze? When was the last time it had rained? How many goats died this season? Was there enough milk for the children? Was there enough for the adults too? Was there any left over to make butter? How did it compare to the last season? etc. I was far more interested in attempting to communicate with the women and children, but they were afraid of me. I wished I knew some Afaric. A. taught me to say thank you but that is all I could communicate.I tried to imagine living in their portable houses, and walking 4 or 5 hours every day to fetch water. I wondered why they don't stay near a source of water. I suddenly understood that their goats were their life. In southern Ethiopia where they have TOO MUCH rain, the government is trying to evacuate the people but they don't want to leave their cattle. They say if they don't have cattle they have no reason to live. I realized why the only thing we were ever offered in any resturaunt in the Afar region was injera and goat tibs. Thats ALL there was. I wanted to know more about the lives, hopes, dreams and ambitions of these intriguing people, but I couldn't even introduce myself.

Finally, we reached a tiny town which seemed to me to be in the middle of nowhere. We picked up a man wearing a wrap around skirt a dress shirt and a Mossimo belt, with a cellphone in his pocket. He was a collegue of A.'s adn the area supervisor for the distribution of goat feed to the pastoralists in four locations. He would show us to where the Afar pastoralists were. So we drove for a few more hours. Soon we arrived at a cluster of shacks, where the storeroom for the goat feed was. There two more men men with bushy beards and wrap around skirts joined us, speaking only Afaric. A. was now translating 3 languages. Just when I though we could go no further into the end of the earth, the pastoralists guided us off road, and then onto a camel path. We drove about 5 miles an hour. The Cr's son commented on the 6 anti-aircraft tanks in a row but we could see the goats ahead adn were urged by our Afar friends to keep going. Reaching the 20 or so goats, was quite anti-climatic. We weren't sure if these were the goats which were fed the special goat feed, adn there was no one to talk to about the measureable results the CR was after. Obviously that the goats were alive, though the time of severe drought in the region said something but we needed more information. The Afar men with us said they would guide us to the homes of osme of the goat owners. No sooner had we started in that direction, when we were approached by Ethiopian military men. Apparently we were in a military controlled zone within 15 kilometers of the Eritrean boarder. No one was to go in-or OUT- of that zone. Our Afar companions protested, stating that since they have the legal right to cross the boarders freely, they should be able to bring us through as well. A. showed the guard his identification that proved he was with our partner organization that works with the Afar. Everyone got out the car and was shouting in differnt languages. The guard leaned in to tell us English-speakers, in English, that he could've shot us. We weren't suppose to be in the military zone and we weren't allowed out of it, back into Ethiopia. We were effectively no where. (This reminded me of being in a similar black hole on the boarders of Costa Rica nd Panama). The supervisor arrived and they decided they couldn't keep us forever, so they eventually let us go. We were prisoners for 10 minutes or so.

We were soon cruzing along a fairly smooth highway southward, to Nazareth. We were to make a stop there to introduce my fellow SALTer, M., to his new home and work. We pulled up to the school run by a partner organization there called Remember the Poorest Community. Upon entering the compound, we were greeted by children standing in neat lines chanting, "Welcome! Welcome! Welcome, " in unison. They wore paper hats and held signs welcoming M. to his new community and job. It was very cute. We met the head of this project which provides education, scholarships,and extra-curricular programming to AIDS orphans and children who would otherwise be on the street. This man himself had been a blind orphan, raised by an MCC school for blind boys. Now he is a brilliant leader. He had memorized M. and my bios and asked me such detailed questions such as whether I was raised in St. Paul or Minneapolis and whether my family was Scandanavian etc. based on that bio. He guessed M.'s exact hieght by feeling his shoulder. This is one of the men I had read about in the book Beyond our Prayers by Hege, which chronicled the history of the Mennonite Church and MCC here in Ethiopia.
After meeting M.'s new family and dropping off his bed, we headed north-east on the road towards Afar. The constant change of landscape as we drove was astonishing. We began with lush grassy areas filled with trees. Then there was less grass and vegetation. As we entered the Rift Valley it became drier. Rift Valley had deep gorges with some vegetation. As we drove the scene alternated between views of dry rock as far as the eye could see, some greener areas, black lunar-like volcanic rock and sandy desert-like regions. To be sure, the further we got from Addis the hotter it got, and the less "developed."
We stopped for lunch at a roadside resturaunt with an open patio. It used to be Mobile station. They only served injera and tibs, so we ate them quickly with our hnads and guzzled coke from glass bottles. I went around back to look for the bathroom and was pointed to a hole in the ground. I decided that I could hold it.
When we arrived in Logiya, I wished I had gone in the nicer bathroom earlier. At least that one had a door that closed. Logiya is on the road to the port in Djibouti so it was a logical stop for Ethiopian truckers. I was glad to have a 7 by 9 foot room to myself, that even included an overhead fan and a mosquito net. It was near 100 f. in Logiya that night. Many men were sleeping in beds covered by nets in the open area of the u shped motel. The showers were clearly built for men. The two showers were ajoined by a window. In this highly conservative area, where I had kept my head covered all day, it was more than a little akward showering(be it in my swimsuit) next to Muslim truckers.
That evening a young Afar man from our partner organization (APDA) came to intoduce himself to us as our guide. The CR., J., and our Ethiopian driver, Gosh A., were off fixing the Land Cruiser. The man told me about the Afar people and the MCC sponsored goat project that we had come to check on. When J. and Gosh A. arrived, the guide, A., informed them that the nomads and their goats that we wanted to see were very far north, almost to the Eritrean boader. As politcal tensions along the boader can be volitile, J. and Gosh A. conferred as to whether it would be safe. When they announced that we would go, I knew the following day would be quite an adventure.

I was awake before dawn. The truth is I never slept due to the inordinate amount of caffeine I had been obligated to drink the day before and the the rooster in my yard which had been crowing since 3:30 a.m. I crept out of my room and jiggled the skeleton key on the tricky door as silently as possible. The howling of the dogs on the other side awakened my host "mother." She came scurrying out of her room in a slip, throwing her shash over her head, and shouting, "Don't go. Bad. Very bad." She opened the door and emphatically pointed to the sky. "Bad. Wait. The boy. The boy. Wait" The Orthodox call to prayer was already sounding and the sky was an eery grey-purple. I stood there wondering what horrible thing was happening beyond our gate. What impending doom did I face if I stepped beyond the threshold?
It soon became clear, as Mahreea called for Mamush, that she was only warning me that it was to dark to walk to the MCC country representatives' compound in the dark alone. Mamush and I walked in silence for a while. I struggled with my netala(head scarf) as we jumped from rock to rock to avoid the muddy puddles. I racked my brain for something to say. The only thing I knew how to say in Amharic was "I am going to Afar today." The young man's one good eye lit up. He nearly jumped up and down with excitment, telling me in Amharic what I assume meant "I am from Afar." Soon we reached the CR's gate and he bid me a good trip. The family was not up yet, although we were to leave at 6:15, so I sat on a ledge and watched the African sun rise over thei gate. I could not imagine what adventures I might have that day. I had never been to Africa before and this was to be my first trip out of Addis.

Hi everyone. This is the first time I've had a blog. I figuired that it was necessary to let everyone know what I'm up to in Ethiopia. This first week and a half have been busy. Every day here is a rich sensory experience. I hope to be able to describe Ethiopia and my life here well.
I've settled into my new home at Maria's. There are a few other people living there but I'm not yet sure what their relationships are. I'm not really sure about anything these days. I communicate in one or two word phrases. I think the two girls are house helpers and the guy is a gaurd. Everyone takes in as many domestic helpers as possible even if there really isn't enough work to go around because the unemployment rate here is about 40%. At first this city seemed like Tegucigalpa with African people but the more time I spend here the more I realize how completely unlike Honduras it really is. Every area in the city is like the lowest class in Honduras. In fact it makes Central America look rich. Obviously there are also huge cultural differences. I didn't feel much culture shock going into Honduras(I also knew a little Spanish) but this is another world. I understand and can relate to the familiarity of a two-thirds world city but this is a whole other world. I hope to be able to describe and represent this world acurately and fairly on this blog. It will be an adventure.