'Farange' in Ethiopia!

Hanna's Orphanage Newsletter - Oct 2011

2011-10-09T11:11:00.000-07:00

Volunteers from Cass Business School

Nicole Garnier, Arnold Musisi, Aga Kuplinska and Caitriona Conway spent two weeks in Ethiopia in August, teaching at the orphanage.

They arrived with pens, clothes, sports equipment and other toys to teach the children at the Wollo Seffer branch and the Shiro Meda house.

The boys at Shiro Meda drew self-portraits and did presentations on their heroes in between games, songs and many games of football!

The younger ones at Wollo Seffer practiced their English and learnt about different countries.

The volunteers have so far raised over £6500 for us, which will be going towards buying a car for the orphanage, helping them to collect supplies for the children and Hanna to travel between branches.

Drought in Ethiopia

As most people have seen in the news, there is a severe drought in East Africa right now.

Although it's worse in Somalia and Kenya, the south east of Ethiopia has been affected and aid agencies on the ground say it's likely to get worse.

The biggest problem is that the Children's Prisoner Home in Harar is being affected by the soaring food prices.

We have already sent some money over to be able to help them feed the children, but if you'd like to donate, please go to www.justgiving.com/hannasorphanagejenny.

Weddings!

For the second time, a couple getting married asked guests at their wedding to donate to Hanna's Orphanage instead of buying wedding gifts, and they raised over £1000!

Amie and John Caswell (pictured), as well as David and Anne-marie Shropshire have both made the amazing pledge on their special days.

If you'd like to donate to Hanna's Orphanage in lieu of wedding or birthday presents, or in honour of any other special occasion, email Jenny at honeyjenny@gmail.com

... And in other news

Challenge for the better
James Cockburn jumped out of an aeroplane for Hanna's Orphanage on 30th July 2011 and raised over £500 while loving every minute!

http://www.justgiving.com/pushjames

New Trustee
We're pleased to welcome our first Cass Business School volunteer Charleane Smith as our newest trustee.

Run Anthony, run!
Anthony Higgins ran The Great North Run on Sunday 18th September to raise money for Hanna's Orphanage and the Red Cross. He completed it in 2 hours, and arrived just in time for the Red Arrows flypast! You can still sponsor him at
https://mydonate.bt.com/fundraisers/anthonyhigginsgnr.

Strong supporters!
On Sunday 10th July Valentine Hanson (left) and Nicole Garnier (right) ran the British 10k run and raised around £400 for Hanna's Orphanage.

And finally ...

Hanna's Orphanage has a new look website on the way this year!
Watch this space!

Vest-ival!

2011-04-03T14:17:00.001-07:00

Yes, it's finally confirmed - on the 21st May 2011, there will be an amazing weekend of music, comedy, food, football and face painting, all to raise money for Hanna's Orphanage and Football Action. It's being held at Jimmy's Farm (yes, the one on the TV!) in Ipswich and we have Annie Mac headlining and a host of other fantastic bands and comedians already confirmed!

Tickets are £45 each (at the moment ... we have a couple of acts to confirm - and the tickets are definitely going to go up soon!) which includes overnight camping, or you could get a family ticket (two adults and two under 14s) for £100. It's going to be well worth it! Buy tickets at http://www.wegottickets.com/f/2438 or email me!

And of course, all proceeds go straight to charity - split equally between Hanna's Orphanage and Football Action.

Buy tickets now - and don't forget to wear your best vest! :-)

This blog

2011-04-03T12:53:00.000-07:00

When I lived in Ethiopia, this blog was all about my life there. It was a place where I could wonder at the fantastic experiences I was having, talk about how beautiful Ethiopia is, let off steam about my struggles and the adjustments I needed to make, tell stories about the amazing people I met, and promote the work of the charities I'm involved in. It also became a record of my mistakes and when I was very, very wrong (thanks, all those who took the time to point that out!!!).

At first, I was fairly sure that only my dad was reading it - but over the months it built up quite a readership. I received quite a few emails from people; some questioning my attitudes and opinions (shocking!), some wanting to get involved in the charities, others just wanting to chat about Ethiopia. People found the stories funny and wanted to hear more of me dealing with the pet rats, the power cuts, the language barrier, the children and all the other parts of my life in Ethiopia! I was happy to oblige.

Of course, I'm now back in the UK and, quite frankly, my life isn't that interesting any more. Don't get me wrong, I love it, but my commute to work, my day job, my social life, isn't nearly so interesting to everyone else. I just don't have that much to say.

So this blog has become much less about my daily life and posts have become less frequent. I've started to make it focus more on the charities I'm involved in - especially Hanna's Orphanage - and the events of the charity world. What happens when a woman with a lot of passion and a little knowledge sets up a charity and gets involved with two or three more, and tries to do this on top of a full time job? Can charities grow and continue to be ethical? What is ethical? Do charities do more harm than good? Will I ever manage to finish the risk assessment for our fundraising festival in May?!

But maybe that's not so interesting either?

All thoughts welcome!

Busy, busy, busy

2011-03-14T16:33:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it’s really hard trying to find the time to do all of this stuff. I’m not trying to get sympathy (I choose to do this after all!) but I do wish I had an extra four or five hours in the day – or a team of staff! At the moment I like I’m constantly trying to catch up with myself: snatching a few minutes at work to make phone calls to toilet providers for our upcoming festival (I get the best jobs!), spending my weekends re-writing the website for its new format (it’s going to be great – if I actually ever get it finished) or sitting on the tube trying to plan the trip in August. Add to that two house moves, a full time job and the normal day to day stuff, and you get a bit of a mess where nothing actually ever gets done.

Take the website. Our current one looks great, but is hard to update and probably only reflects where we were a couple of years ago. Loads of stuff has happened since then, and we want to publicise all the great things we’ve done, the money we've raised, the partnerships with Cass and with Football Action, and all of our upcoming events. The new website is designed and created, and just needs me to actually edit the writing and restructure the info on it so it can go live.

But I also need to sort out the teacher training for the volunteers, complete the licence application, speak to the fire brigade, organise the route for the sponsored walk, publicise the festival, speak to the orphanage ... and on and on and on. It can all get a bit overwhelming and I don't feel like I'm doing justice to anything!

Ah well, I guess if I didn’t have this stuff to do, I’d only moan I’m bored!

At least being busy generally means that we’ve got lots of events coming up! These are the dates for your diary for the next few months:

1st April - Cass are throwing a party to raise money for Hanna's

7th/8th May – Some hardy souls will be walking the rout of the Piccadilly tube line (overground, not underground!!) for sponsorship. If you’d be interested in walking with us, please send me an email!

21st May – Our festival ... more about that in a couple of days!

28th May – The new volunteers will spend all day learning new teaching skills, activities and games to use with the children in August

11th June – Cass are holding a Charity Cricket match ... possibly with a surprise guest!

18th June – our crazy and insane new Cass volunteers are going to do Bungee Jump. I think they’re completely insane - but please do sponsor them anyway!

Contact us if you want more information about any of this, or want to help at all! In the meantime, I'm off to edit the new website ...

Cass Cake Sale!

2011-03-14T15:36:00.000-07:00

Fundraising by our Cass volunteers continues, with raffles and five a side football tournaments and networking events.

In true Hanna's style, and following the success of the last couple, there was another cake stall at Cass. This one raised £300! Another one is planned for next month - and I don't intend to miss out on the cakes this time!

Thanks to everyone who donated cakes, and all those who bought them!

The planning begins!

2011-02-15T12:16:00.002-08:00

The Cass volunteers have now started planning their trip and doing their fundraising. Their Justgiving pages have been set up, so if you'd like to donate and help their fundraising, please go to their pages:

Nicole Garnier

Caitriona Conway

Ryan Crocombe

Agnieszka Kuplinska

In other news, we're working with Football Action in a mad idea to put on a festival to raise money for our charities. It's going to be huge if we manage to get it running - and if the venue says yes!

Last week we had to put a detailed pitch together so I went through a crash course in talking to councils (thanks to everyone who helped!), generator engineers and various licensing bodies, and found out really important facts like how many toilets are recommended per 100 people (1, apparently!). Four of us spent a frantic day putting it all together ... so now we're just waiting to hear whether we've got the go ahead or not. Fingers crossed, please!

(and if anyone has any farmland around an hour outside of London that they want to donate, please let me know!)

Donations!

2011-02-06T10:51:00.000-08:00

Would you like to donate to us? In a quick and easy way, with very little fuss? AND ensure we can get GiftAid on your donation (if you're a UK tax payer)? Of course you would!

We now have a general Just Giving page: www.justgiving.com/hannasorphanagejenny

This doesn't replace Paypal - we still have that - but Justgiving is quicker and easier for lots of people (and we get Giftaid!)

Thanks in advance for all your donations! :-)

Cass Business School Volunteers 2011!

2011-01-24T06:14:00.001-08:00

Last year, Cass Business School paid for two students and one member of staff to travel to Ethiopia and to teach at the summer school. They taught classes, practiced conversational English with the older ones, played endless football matches with the kids and then took some time to explore the rest of the country. They also fundraised for Hanna’s Orphanage, raising over £6,000 for us which has already been sent over. They were really great volunteers – and what’s even better is the fact that they’re still fundraising and still involved!

This year Cass is paying for two students and two members of staff to take the trip to Ethiopia. A few of us went and delivered a talk at Cass, and invited everyone to apply. We whittled down the huge number of applications forms to the shortlist, and Hannah (not the Hanna ... but someone equally important who helps me with interviews and selecting the volunteers!) and I spent two evenings interviewing people before Christmas. We’ve made our final decision, and last week we got together with all four volunteers for the first time to start making plans for the trip.

I always love introducing people to Ethiopia, so it’s great that I have four new people to tell! We started to explore the logistics and what they would actually be doing once there, the preparations they need to make before leaving, but also about the country and the orphanage history and about how beautiful Ethiopia is. I know it’s not often on the top of people’s lists of places to visit, but – as I keep telling everyone - I am determined to change that!

Of course, the great thing this time is that we have a good 6 months before the volunteers (and I!) go, so we’ve got much longer to fundraise and prepare than last year. It means we can raise more money, get even more people involved, and also spend a lot longer planning lessons and activities to do with the students.

I always said that I wouldn’t send volunteers to Ethiopia, that we didn’t have the capacity to support them or organise it properly, and that there were ethical issues surrounding it. In fact, fairly recently, there’s been a lot written in the press about the harm that volunteering overseas can do, particularly short term volunteering, and how it’s so often about the volunteer getting the benefit, not the people it’s supposed to be helping. Here’s one of the articles: http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/nov/14/orphans-cambodia-aids-holidays-madonna?INTCMP=SRCH

I agree with a lot of the concerns raised in the article and I did see quite a few volunteers who caused more harm than good, in my opinion. The trustees of Hanna’s Orphanage thought long and hard about sending volunteers to Ethiopia, and we’d actually just turned down another partnership because although it probably would have brought in some money, the volunteering wasn’t what the orphanage needed (I did ask them – I’m not just assuming). We ended up directing them to another charity which could use what they were offering.

We decided to welcome the partnership with Cass because we felt we had the capacity and expertise to support the volunteers by that point, and because they are fulfilling a specific need – teaching at the summer school. It’s not displacing any local teachers or paid staff: the summer school is taught by local teachers, university students and even children who grew up at the orphanage and have now moved on. The classes our volunteers provide are ‘add-ons’ – a different way of teaching, practice speaking English with fluent English speakers, and resources and information the students wouldn’t normally have access to. The feedback from the students and the orphanage staff last year was that the ‘active teaching’ the volunteers provided (games, songs, debates, arts, drama etc) was the most valuable part of their visit.

We also make sure that there is absolutely no cost to the orphanage and that we ask as little of their time as possible (just enough to arrange the class times and tell us what they want us to focus on, really – we do the rest). We also leave as much knowledge, materials and resources as we can, so that it’s as sustainable as possible. Cass are really supportive of all this as well.

It’s not perfect, I’m sure – and I do get the occasional email pointing this out! – but we have thought really hard about the pros and cons of doing it, and from what we can see, it’s been of huge value to the orphanage and to us. We will continue to monitor and evaluate it, of course (note to self: this year, plan resources for a slightly bigger age range this time, so we’re not caught on the hop like last year ...!)

But in the meantime, we’re focussed on making plans with the new volunteers! In a few weeks we’re going for a meal to introduce them to Ethiopian food, and they’re all setting up their justgiving pages. Let the fundraising commence!!

Being a signpost!

2011-01-14T15:10:00.000-08:00

It amazes me that, although our friends and family often make up the core supporters of Hanna's Orphanage, we get lots of people contacting us out of the blue who have heard of us from a friend or have found us via this blog or our website.

This week we were contacted by a film production company! They are looking for stories of girls who have turned their life around and are becoming vital and active parts of their communities. Obviously we don't run the orphanage on a day to day basis and so don't have as much knowledge about the children as Hanna does, but I know I can think of at least two young women off of the top of my head who are achieving great things despite serious hardships in their lives.

In fact, nearly all the girls in the orphanage are incredibly articulate, conscientious, intelligent, self possessed and ambitious. They work hard in their studies and have strong opinions on all aspects of life and their country, from the role of women in society, to job prospects, the economy and the latest changes to the law! Some of them are now starting to go on to further education and I have absolutely no doubt that they will achieve what they want to. They impress every single visitor we take to the orphanage!

The girls' attitude and success is hugely down to how nurturing and well run the orphanage is. Hanna and her staff make sure that the children have the same opportunities as everyone else (hopefully helped by our financial support), and they have very high aspirations for them. They teach them to believe they are capable of being anything they want to be. There are limitations of reality, we all know that, but they are encouraged and supported to aim high. I think this makes such a difference.

So I hope the production company will find some inspiring girls at the orphanage. Of course, the individual stories of the children are not mine to tell (I've learnt this the hard way!), so I have offered to put the production company in touch with Hanna.

A little part of me does think 'well, I hope they mention us! We could do with the publicity!'. But, actually, what's the point of us, unless to help the orphanage? If we put the production company in touch with the orphanage, they do a great short film about them and people donate to the orphanage and get involved directly, well, that's what we want, right? Does it matter if we aren't mentioned or 'funnel' the donations? Absolutely not!

I'm ashamed to say sometimes my ego forgets this. Sometimes I get so caught up in trying to raise the profile of Hanna's Orphanage, of encouraging people to donate, of trying to get people involved and to fundraise, I forget that our job is to be a 'signpost' to the orphanage. It doesn't matter if you never remember our name, really, just as long as the orphanage benefits. I forget that, really, if we do our job properly, we should pretty much become obsolete!

I'll keep you updated on the film :-)

2011-01-09T11:18:00.001-08:00

Happy Christmas and New Year from all at Hanna’s Orphanage! We’ve all been enjoying time with our families over the break, but we’re back and ready to look at the exciting things that are going to be happening in 2011!

2010 was a great year for Hanna’s Orphanage, not least in our partnerships with Cass Business School. Last year’s Cass Business School volunteers - Charleane, Donal and Michael – taught at the summer school for two weeks in August and spent a huge amount of time and effort in the UK raising money and awareness. They raised around £6500 between them and introduced Hanna’s Orphanage to a whole new group of people! Supported by everyone at Cass Business School, they held events throughout the year, from raffles to concerts, and found ways to help Hanna’s Orphanage whenever they could.

They weren’t the only people fundraising for Hanna’s Orphanage this year. There have been cake stalls in Suffolk (thanks Sandra, Anne-marie and Beryl!), busking outside supermarkets (thanks Danyele and all her music buddies), people jumping out of aeroplanes (thanks Anthony, Danyele and Amie!), and music gigs in London (thanks Maria, Football Action, Smoke Feathers, Looks Like Rain, and Front Covers!). We’ve even had people who have asked their wedding guests to donate to Hanna’s Orphanage instead of giving them wedding gifts (thanks David and Anne-marie)! So many people have given up their time and energy to help us fundraise, and we are incredibly grateful to all of them.

We’ve also been blessed to have received donations that have – for us – come completely out of the blue. These are from people who have come across us through the Charities Aid Foundation (http://www.cafonline.org/) or have researched various charities to donate to, and have decided on us. Others have been from word of mouth, through people who are really impressed with what we’re doing. It’s really great that more and more people are hearing about us and are liking what we do!

The annual report and the accounts should be available for people to see by the end of January, but as a general picture, the money you have raised this year has been spent on:

House rent for the Addis Ababa branch of the orphanage
Food for the children
Refurbishing the kitchen in the Addis Ababa orphanage
House rent for Wolita House (South Ethiopia)
Household expenses for Wolita House (South Ethiopia)
Part salaries for 2 Project Workers
Annual ‘registration fee’ that children must pay to start school in Addis Ababa
Materials for clubs and recreations during the summer and weekends

In terms of where the money goes, we try to be as transparent as we possibly can. We aim to be able to tell you exactly where your donation has gone, whether it was £10 or £1000! We also want to make sure that your donation reaches the people you want it to. We all see money being wasted in our day to day life, and I’m really, really passionate about making sure that doesn’t happen. The maximum amount of money we raise goes straight to the orphanage.

So thank you again for all your hard work! It’s been a really brilliant year and we’ve more than doubled the amount we sent to Hanna Orphans’ Home last year!

I’ll post about the exciting plans for 2011 – and how you can get involved! – in a few days!

Christmas at Cass Business School

2010-11-26T08:02:00.000-08:00

Cass Business School have been supporting Hanna's Orphanage since December 2009 and have been brilliant - not only have they helped us raise double what we did last year, they provided 3 volunteers to teach at the orphanage's summer school this summer and will be doing the same next year!

The money Cass and their volunteers raised this year have helped the orphanage survive a very difficult finacial situation, and have paid for proper tables and chairs (made by an Ethiopian carpenter just down the road from the orphanage, so money going into the economy) so that children from the local community as well as the orphanage children can study properly. Added to that, they've really raised the profile of the orphanage with people who normally wouldn't have heard of us, and are always around to provide support and advice. It's all a bit wonderful and we're very grateful!

I've spent the last two evenings interviewing and selecting Cass students and staff for our trip to Ethiopia in 2011. A decision should be made on Monday and then the fundraising, preparing and training will start!

At the Cass campus, I got to see the Christmas card that the University have had made for Hanna Orphans Home. People can donate money to Hanna's Orphanage to be able to sign it and leave a message. It looks fantastic!

Is it providing any concrete benefit to the orphanage? Well, the money people are donating will of course go directly to the orphanage, probably to help pay rent. The actual card? Not really. However, I think it's a great idea and have told the orphanage about it. They're excited to receive it - I can also think of lots of the children who I taught and spent time with while I was over there who will love it! Sometimes I guess it's okay to do something purely to make people smile! :-)

Football Action

2010-11-05T06:40:00.000-07:00

Football Action is a new organisation currently in the process of registering as a charity. They have the simple aim of using football to encourage students to attend school and re-engage with learning, and this year they worked with Hanna's Orphanage and LEAP (see previous newsletter for details!!).

Despite completely exhausting me, the trip was amazing, and it's always lovely for me to be able to introduce everyone to the beauty of Ethiopia and all the people who made my stay such an amazing experience.

We worked really hard to make sure the trip was sustainable and that it wasn't just a case of turning up, playing football a bit and then going home. The teachers in our team delivered teacher training and skill sharing sessions, while the teachers were involved in the football coaching sessions so that they can continue with the games and activities during the year (one of the teachers is really keen on setting up an inter-school football tournament too, and this will definitely help with that!). The team also raised the money to build a proper football pitch on the school compound and replace the wooden goals that were being eaten by termites.

Both the school and the orphanage got lots of footballs, which is what they kept asking me for! :-)

Have a look at the fantastic video of the trip to give you an idea of what a great time everyone had (including the students at the orphanage and at the school!!!)

Hanna's Orphanage October Newsletter

2010-10-31T12:14:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the October 2010 Hanna's Orphanage newsletter.

It's been a really busy and successful summer, with our first Cass Business School volunteers visiting the orphanage, and some of supporters jumping out of an aeroplane to raise money for us!

Fundraising has been amazing, and we've raised our biggest ever amount of money for the orphanage! Thank you so much. Your generosity has ensured that despite the economic situation, the orphanage is still able to provide shelter, education, food, clothing and toys to over 200 children.

Thank you so much!

Jenny and the Hanna’s Team

Cass Business School

Cass Business School in London (cass.city.ac.uk) have partnered with Hanna's Orphanage and this year sent three volunteers to teach at the orphanage's summer school.

Charleane Smith, Donal O'Shea and Michael Feeney arrived in August, laden with clothes, pens, books and toys, and spent two weeks teaching English, exploring the country and generally entertaining the children!

Volunteers teaching at summer school not only gives the students access to native English speakers, but it also exposes them to a different type of teaching. Schooling in Ethiopia is often based on 'rote learning' with the children memorising rather than actually understanding the material.

Volunteers sent over by Hanna's Orphanage focus on 'active learning' which involves the students learning in a visual, audio and kinaesthetic way.

Consequently, during the summer school we saw Donal teaching prepositions using suitcases and tennis balls, and Charleane teaching the clothing vocabulary using a washing line across the classroom! There were also games of Blockbuster, hangman and an enthusiastic chorus of 'Molly Malone'.

Before they travelled to Ethiopia, the volunteers put a lot of effort into fundraising and have so far managed to raise well over £6,000 which is incredible! Some of the money has been used to get more good quality wooden chairs and tables for the classrooms, whilst the rest of it has gone towards covering the running costs of the orphanage.

The recession has hit Ethiopia hard, with rental prices and food prices rocketing, and the money raised by Cass Business School came at just the right time to enable us to help the orphanage.

After the success of this year, we hope to do it again next year with new volunteers and continue to build the partnership.

A huge thank you to Cass!

Where your money has gone!

The money you have raised has been a lifeline to the orphanage this summer. It has gone towards supporting the day-to-day costs of the orphanage, particularly the rent of the houses the children live in. This is one of the orphanage's biggest expenditures and we can help so much by supporting them with it!

Money has also gone towards setting up a sewing room and an IT classroom. Computer skills are important for employability in Ethiopia, and now the orphanage children have access to 5 computers and a computer skills teacher.

The staff at the orphanage are also able to take some classes, and it's open to students in the local community who have dropped out of school. It's a really important resource!

Football Action

Football Action, a group of teachers, musicians and football players, also spent some of the summer in Ethiopia and visited the orphanage.

Nikki and Jenny spent some time with the younger ones at the main orphanage, then the whole team visited the Shiro Meda house. The boys in the orphanage were thrilled that they had people to play football with, and there was some music making going on in the corner too!

When they left Ethiopia, the Football Action team donated to Shiro Meda a football kit for each boy (and a few spare), lots of footballs, a couple of pumps and a cricket set.

They also raised £500 which will go towards buying something for the Shiro Meda house.

Skydive!

At the end of July, Jenny, Anthony and Danyele Higgins and Amie Liddle were attached to men with parachutes and thrown out of a plane, all to raise money for Hanna's Orphanage!

The skydive took place at Beccles Airfield in Suffolk and after a 5 hour wait for the rain and cloud to clear, the four of them went up on the last flight of the day. All successfully completed their skydive, despite some last minute nerves!

There were big smiles afterwards, particularly because they raised over £1,200 for Hanna's Orphanage between them!

Thanks also to Anne-Marie Higgins and Kate Horner who hung around at the airfield to show their support and take some fabulous photos and video.

Unfortunately, James Cockburn was unable to do the jump due to illness, but will do as soon as he's back to full health!

Christmas gig!

Hanna's Orphanage Music Nights are back! This time we're teaming up with Football Action to throw a huge Christmas party at Vibe Bar, Brick Lane on 4th December 2010.

Come along to listen to some fantastic live music from Looks Like Rain, Front Covers and Smoke Feathers, win some great prizes in our raffle and then dance the night away to a DJ.

Tickets are £10 and any other donations are very welcome. All money will be split between Football Action and Hanna's Orphanage.

If you'd like more information, please contact Maria on maria@blueskyonline.co.uk.

Twitter and Facebook!

Join us on Twitter (www.twitter.com/hannasorphanage) or Facebook (Hanna's Orphanage). Tell all your friends! The more people who know about us, the more fundraising we can do!

Tandem Skydive!

2010-06-06T11:42:00.000-07:00

On July 31st 2010, 5 people are going to be throwing themselves out of an aeroplane to raise money for Hanna’s Orphanage (parachutes will be attached!). One of those people will be me, so I know that we would appreciate any support (and money!) you can give!

Here are the links to our fundraising pages:

www.justgiving.com/pushjames

www.justgiving.com/jennyjumpsoutofaplane

www.justgiving.com/danyelehiggins

www.justgiving.com/anthonyhiggins

www.justgiving.com/amieliddle

Most of us are paying for the jump entirely ourselves, so 100% of the money raised will go to the orphanage – money well spent, I think you’ll agree!

To Do Lists

2010-06-06T11:29:00.001-07:00

It’s a busy, busy, busy time at the moment. Where does time go? Time feels like it flies by and I spend my life putting things on my ‘to do’ list and then never getting round to doing them (of course, this is also because I am the Queen of Procrastination).

When I’m in Ethiopia, time seems to have a completely different rhythm, a completely different meaning. Time stretches forever – or that’s what it feels like! – and you can take ages doing little things. I remember K and I climbing Asherton Mountain when we were first in Lalibela, having breakfast and then going to have a nap ... and discovering it was only 11am! We were convinced the clock was wrong. It felt like we’d done a full day’s activities and yet it wasn’t even lunchtime!

It was the same during those endless afternoons while I sat on my little wooden veranda, creating teaching resources or reading a book , and drinking tea. The day stretched on forever and everything around me was peaceful, unhurried and calm.

Of course, this is totally romanticising everything, I know. And – as usual – I wasn’t so good at appreciating it at the time. I was too busy thinking of all the exhibitions I’d go to back in London, all the books I’d read, the friends I’d see, the plays I’d watch. I missed my busy life in the UK and really looked forward to returning to the buzz of things.

But actually, when I relaxed into it, I loved the stillness and the slowness. I learnt so much from living like that and from the attitudes of my friends in Lalibela: a lot about living in the moment (as cheesy as that sounds), about enjoying simply spending time sitting with friends and about not being scared of the silence and the space.

I have bought some of that home with me. I move slower now, I spend more time just sitting, and I no longer sit on a train whilst reading a book, listening to music and texting, all at the same time. Of course, the rest of London is still manically busy, which occasionally causes a problem ... but generally I’ve reached some kind of equilibrium.

Which, I suppose, is a roundabout, self centred way of saying that things are busy with Hanna’s Orphanage! We’ve had quite a few donations, so we’re busy sending out thank you letters, and I have a backlog of emails from people requesting information about Hanna’s Orphanage, Ethiopia and what they can do to help. Meanwhile, supporters in Sudbury, Suffolk, are preparing for the cake sale and stall on 19th June – if you want to get involved, please email riewhs@hotmail.com

We are also in the middle of recruiting and selecting two volunteers to teach English at the summer school at the orphanage. Sending volunteers to Ethiopia has never been something we planned to do – we simply don’t have the money or capacity to support people there. However, we are currently working in partnership with Cass Business School and sending two of their students over in August. It’s looking really positive at the moment and we’re all really hopeful!

We are also working on getting the word out about the 5 people who are doing tandem parachute jumps to raise money for the orphanage (see next blog for details!). Any money you can donate will be much appreciated!

So, it’s about 7pm on a Sunday evening, and I have a huge to do list sitting on the sofa next to me. I’m determined to stop procrastinating and get this all done, so I can curl up in bed later with a book, and enjoy the rest of the evening ...

Hanna's Orphanage Newsletter

2010-04-26T02:58:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the Hanna's Orphanage eNewsletter, April 2010!

Thank you for all the materials you have donated in the last three months. Jenny has just returned from a two week visit to Ethiopia, where she was able to give the orphanage the pens, pencils, footballs and other things you have given. Thank you!

We've been doing a lot of spending these last couple of months, so the next few months are going to be focused on raising money! There are lots of ways you can get involved, so if you'd like to help, please drop us an email.

Alternatively, we're always looking for people to raise money for us, so let us know your ideas.

Jenny and the Hanna’s Team

Wolita House

We have just sent over the money to pay the rent for another year on the Prisoners' Children House in the south of Ethiopia.

The house we pay the rent on was originally in a place called Hosanna, but the authorities asked Hanna if she would move it to Wolita, as the need was greater there. The house is now ready, and the children should be moving into their rooms in a few months.

Thank you to everyone who has donated money – you have helped us to provide shelter, food, education and space to play for more than 20 children.

Mercy

Mercy, one of the youngest children in the orphanage, was seriously ill with meningitis this time last year.

Hanna spent weeks at her hospital bedside, and it was touch and go as to whether she would survive. Jenny saw her – and managed a quick cuddle – while she was in Ethiopia in March, and she is making a really good recovery.

Unfortunately, despite some treatment, she has lost her sight, but she is walking and seems almost back to her happy self.

Gig - June

Back by popular demand, Hanna's Orphanage Music Nights are happening again! The next one will be at the end of June, just before everyone departs for their summer holiday!

Hopefully held at Vibe Bar in Brick Lane, there'll be great music by some fantastic bands (new and old) and a raffle where you can win all kinds of weird and wondeful prizes!

If you'd like more details, or if you have a prize you could donate to the raffle, please contact Maria on maria@blueskyonline.co.uk.

Parachute Jump

The sunshine has made a guest appearance, and everyone's looking forward to being out in the sunshine doing some 'outdoorsy' things! What could be more outdoorsy than jumping out of an aeroplane?!

In the first week of August, four Hanna's Orphanage volunteers are doing a sponsored parachute jump and they're looking for other people to join in!

If you think you might be brave enough and want to raise some much needed money for Hanna's Orphanage, please email Jenny at honeyjenny@gmail.com.

Thank you!

Thanks to St James the Great, Fulbrook Parochial Church Council for the £500 they donated to us at the beginning of the year. The money has gone towards paying the rent on the Wolita house.

Cake sale – June

Volunteers in Sudbury Suffolk will be holding a cake stall on Sudbury Market, on Saturday 19th June 2010.

If you're around, pop down and support us - or if you’re able to make cakes for us to sell, please contact Anne-marie on riewhs@hotmail.com.

Volunteers

In August, the orphanage will be benefitting from some great volunteers from the UK!
Cass Business School [ www.cass.city.ac.uk ] in London, are sponsoring some of their students to spend two weeks at the orphanage, teaching English as part of the summer school the orphanage runs every year. They will also be fundraising in the UK. So far, over 60 students have expressed interest.

Also visiting Ethiopia in August will be a group of volunteers who are planning to work with schools in Lalibela to run football training sessions and a sports day as part of their summer school.

They will also be visiting the orphanage to have a few games of football with the children, and some of the money they raise in the UK will be going to the orphanage.
For more information on their trip, see www.footballforafrica.co.uk.

Twitter and Facebook!

Join us on Twitter (www.twitter.com/hannasorphanage) or Facebook (Hanna's Orphanage). Tell all your friends! The more people who know about us, the more fundraising we can do!

Hanna's Orphanage Newsletter - January 2010

2010-01-24T08:46:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!

Welcome to the January Hanna’s Orphanage newsletter. As you will have noticed, there hasn’t been a newsletter for quite a while – but this does not mean we haven’t been doing any work! We’ve been making new contacts, fundraising, making plans, spending time with the children, working out just how best to help the orphanage ... and of course, helping the orphanage spend the money you have raised for them.

Below are highlights of the things you’ve helped us to do in the last year, and our plans for the new year ahead ... As ever, we’d love for you to get involved, so if you fancy helping with anything, please do get in touch with us at info@hannasorphanage.org.uk

The Hanna’s Team

Our Time in Ethiopia
Jenny spent the majority of 2008 and 2009 living in Ethiopia, visiting and working with the orphanage, and helping them spend the money you’ve raised. She wrote several articles for Telegraph Weekly, which raised awareness of the charity and brought many new donors to the orphanage. If you want to look at the blog of her time there, please go to www.hannasorphanage.blogspot.com

Anne-marie, the Hanna’s Orphanage treasurer, and her partner, David, also travelled to Ethiopia, bringing lots of donated toys, books and clothes, while supporters Amie Liddle, Nicole Masri and Paul Tew visited during 2009 and spent time with the children.

One of the huge advantages of being out in Ethiopia is being able to talk face to face with the staff of the orphanage, especially Hanna, and find out exactly what they need. Sometimes this isn’t so easy, especially when we’re trying to contact the orphanage from the UK! Unreliable phone lines and unexpected cultural differences can cause difficulties on both sides!

Being ‘on the ground’ really helps. This year we were in Ethiopia when the orphanage found out that they were going to have to leave their current premises if they couldn’t pay some extra taxes. We were able to help with the problem immediately, and using money you raised, we’ve paid 6 months’ worth of the taxes, giving the orphanage some ‘breathing space’.

# Everyone who went to Ethiopia paid their own air fare and expenses, so no donations were used.

New Chairs for the Library
One of the people who saw the article in the Telegraph Weekly was Peter Hansen, who challenged his company, Pacific Environmental Consulting, to match his donation. Their money they all raised paid for a refit of the orphanage’s library, specifically buying new chairs.
The chairs are really good quality, and have a desk attached to the arm, so the students can study without having to squash round tables. It means there’s space for a lot more young people to come and use the library and classrooms.

Any other money is going to be used to buy up to date books for the library.

Wells Hall CP School
Jenny spent a day at Wells Hall during their ‘Africa’ week’ talking to the children about Ethiopia and Hanna Orphans Homes. They had a collection at one of their Christmas Concerts and raised £166 for us.

Droxford Junior School
When the school council of Droxford Junior School decided they wanted to help Hanna’s Orphanage, they planned a ‘Sponsored Spell’ and planned to raise around £300 ... Instead, at final count last week they’d managed to raise over £1784.29!

We’re so grateful for their hard work, and the money they raised will go towards the children’s education, including covering the registration fees for school and paying for uniform.

Christmas Donations
We had several donations made in leui of Christmas presents/card this year. We then sent a Christmas card to the nominated person informing them of the donation. Another good way for us to spread the word about our work!

Get Involved in 2010!
We’ve got some great ways you can get involved over the next year!

• In August, Danyele and Jenny will be jumping out of an aeroplane (parachutes may be involved!) to raise money. Details on how to sponsor them will be coming soon – but if you’d like to take part yourself, please email Jenny at honeyjenny@gmail.com

• Get your skates on, as Maria will be organising a ‘Sponsored Skate’! Want to get involved? Got the stamina for a LONG skate? Get in touch: maria@blueskyonline.co.uk!

• We’re still collecting foreign currency, which we can turn into pounds sterling. If you have any foreign currency (from any country at all; notes or coins!), email us at info@hannasorphanage.org.uk.

• We’re going to be linked to a new fundraising initiative called ‘Football for Africa’ which will help, through football, Hanna’s Orphanage and another charity called LEAP. More about this in next month’s newsletter.

Twitter and Facebook!
Join us on twitter (www.twitter.com/hannasorphanage) or Facebook (Hanna’s Orphanage). Tell all your friends! The more people who know about us, the more fundraising we can do!

24th September 2009

2009-09-30T10:21:00.002-07:00

I’ve kind of lost momentum with this blog over the last couple of weeks. Partly this is because I am leaving very soon and I am swamped with trying to complete tasks and tie up lose ends, but it’s also because so much is going on here that I would like to write about, but it would be unprofessional too. Admittedly, I do often skirt the line on unprofessional, but this would be a giant leap over it. So, unable to give context and details, I’ve not be inspired to write anything.

However, I do need to write something – not, I’m sure, because you’re all waiting with baiting breath, but mostly because I don’t want this blog to splutter and die so near to the end. Plus, I do actually have some things to write about.

For a start, my Mum and her partner , D, came to visit last week, so we spent a few days in Addis visiting the orphanage then flew to Lalibela and to Bahir Dar. It was great to be able to show them my life in Lalibela, as well as take them to the orphanage – both of them do things for Hanna’s Orphanage in the UK and it’s good to be able to show them the people their work benefits.

D was a big hit with the children wherever we went! They were fascinated by the fact he had hair on his legs and arms, by the colour of his skin and by his muscles. We did try to explain that he’s a farmer, so he’s always lifting heavy things, but of course that made no sense to the children in Lalibela as all their fathers are farmers
and they don’t look like D …

Of course the other attraction to D was that he had the video camera! If you ever want to break the ice with a group of children in rural Africa, bring out a camera (video or otherwise). There were several moments during their trip when mum and I wondered if we should rescue him, but he dealt very well with 20 children hanging over him, trying to see themselves in the pictures.

In general, it was a great trip; I was happy to see them, and I think they saw how beautiful Ethiopia is. Of course, it wasn’t all plain sailing, and I turned into a bitch from hell (albeit a polite bitch from hell) when various people tried their luck or simply neglected to provide a service we’d paid for. I’m not talking about no electricity or a lack of water, those things people have no control over. It was the lost hotel reservations, the people trying to add on an extra 250 birr from the original quote, or charging full price for a breakfast they only served a quarter of that really annoyed me.

Speaking of being a bitch from hell, trying to employ new teachers and starting the new school year has been an exercise in frustration for all of us. First of all, we need to employ two new teachers. As an NGO run school school, it states in the Project Agreement that the organisation can employ teachers with advice from the Ministry of Education. However, the current head of the Ministry believe this means they employ our teachers: we give them a job description, they interview them and then send us our new employees. We want to be able to interview and employ our own teachers (adhering to all Ministry of Education guidelines and requirements, of course), and we did employ our own summer school teachers, as the Ministry was too busy to do it, so they told us to.

Apparently, this situation has happened previously (before my time) and then someone from the Regional Government wrote a letter stating what we could and could not do. The letter was given to all the relevant departments and all was sorted. Now, of course, everyone seems to have lost the letter, and getting a new one is a lengthy process.

Bizarrely, the Head of the Ministry of Education abruptly changed his mind yesterday. It was very welcome, but it does make me slightly curious as to why the sudden change of heart? I know it certainly wasn’t to please me, as there’s no love lost there. Anyway, it means we can employ the teachers we need, so I’ve put back my flight by one day (so that we can fulfill the Ministry’s requirements for the length of time an job advert is displayed) and we interview on Monday. Hurrah!

Another thing teacher-related that made me look around at everyone, open mouthed, to see if they agreed with me that this was completely insane, was the meeting that all teachers had to go to. I have no problem with the notion of teachers going and being trained – brilliant! Except, schools have just been closed for over 2 months and yet they decide to hold a meeting for all teachers in the 1st week after school starts. So millions of children, who the government are supposed to be providing education for, lost over a week of school so their teachers could attend a meeting. Where’s the logic in that?

I think I would have minded less if the meeting had been training on teaching methodology or theory. I asked my teachers what they learnt. They said they learnt that a teacher’s performance is judged on the performance of their students, and then they learnt a lot about politics (elections in Ethiopia are next year). This is what children missed around 10 days of school for (although ours didn’t – the powers-that-be were late informing us that our teachers had to attend, so thankfully our students only had to miss 3 days of school).

Complete insanity.

Oh, and the last thing that is making me want to tear my hair out? Flies! Goddamn flies! Apparently, September is the month for flies, and they are driving everybody crazy! They get in your eyes, your nose, your mouth, and no matter how much you swat at them, they keep coming back, leaving you looking like someone frantically trying to land a plane, yet still covered in big black flies. Eventually you give up trying to swat them away and get used to the incessant tickling of every exposed part of your body.

Everyone says the flies will be gone by October … and so will I! (Did you see what I did there?) I’m very excited about going home, but I’m also sad that I’m leaving so many lovely people, and the fact that I’m leaving at such a stressful time. No, ignore that: in my very selfish way, I am thrilled I’m leaving at this stressful time, as it’s hideous, and I do not want to deal with it, but I’m feeling very guilty and sad about the fact that the staff here do not have such an escape route. All I can do is make my leaving as stress free as possible, and continue to ensure the work I’ve done is sustainable.

Anyway, I’ve told the teachers I’m coming back in February and if I find they haven’t carried on with the changes we’ve made, there’s going to be serious trouble!!

18th September 2009

2009-09-30T10:21:00.001-07:00

I am now back in Lalibela, and have found two minutes to write a blog post. I leave Ethiopia fairly soon, so I’m desperately trying to get everything done, plus of course my mum and her partner are here, so it’s all go, go, go!

The main news is the orphanage. After the email I received about their imminent eviction, mum and I wanted to go and talk to Hanna properly to see what we could do. What I was initially told about the situation wasn’t completely accurate, and I think something was lost in translation, but when we started to talk to Hanna it all became clear.

Basically, it’s a tax problem. The orphanage have to pay tax on the house they rent , which is all fine and expected. However, if the landlady doesn’t register her building with the Government, the tax rises from 2% to 30% a month – and the landlady does not want to register with the Government, so the orphanage have to find an extra 3500 birr a month. That’s way beyond the orphanage’s capability, and if they can’t pay the tax, they have to move out.

Apparently, if it was a private tenant, then there would be some breathing space – people wouldn’t be asking about the tax, and they’d probably be able to avoid it. However, as an NGO, the orphanage are audited annually and so it would definitely be picked up. And, of course, they want to follow the law, too.

(There is a dodgy ‘middle man’ involved in all this, too, but I’m not entirely clear how, so we’ll leave that for the minute!)

Long term, paying the 30% tax is not an option; the orphanage already struggle in this economic crisis, and finding an extra 3500 birr a month is impossible for them. However, the urgent thing at the moment is to ensure they can stay in the building for the next few months so that they can concentrate on finding somewhere else.

So, Hanna’s Orphanage UK have given the orphanage the money to pay the extra tax for the next three months, ensuring they are able to stay in the building while they try to search for somewhere else. If we can raise £500 by December (which we will do, I’m sure!), we can then buy them another 3 months. Hanna has somewhere in mind to be able to rent, so we will all keep our fingers crossed that they agree and the rent is reasonable.

The ideal situation would be to find somewhere to buy, so that these situations don’t happen again, but we would need to 1) find a suitable building and 2) raise enough money. Property is very expensive in Ethiopia, as in the rest of the world, and we certainly don’t have that kind of money. However, we’re working on it, and trying to support the orphanage in applying to various other organisations that may be able to help.

So if anyone has a few £100,000 to spare, please contact us!

Ps. I have lots to catch up on - not least New Year - so I will post that as soon as poss!

16th September 2009

2009-09-30T10:17:00.000-07:00

A very quick blog sent from an internet cafe in Addis, where I am spending some time with my mum! We have just come from the orpganage,where together we have sorted out a plan to save the orphanage from having to move out for the next 6 months. This buys them some time to start looking for a place to rent or - the ideal situation - buy.

I will write a longer blog tomorrow when I get back to Lalibela, but the situation was not caused by an increase in rent, as we were first told, but rather tax payments required of the landlady. It's a frustrating system, but money you have donated has bought them some breathing space while we attempt to sort it out. Otherwise, they would have needed to move out by the first week in October.

Thank you thank you thank you.

8th September

2009-09-13T06:50:00.000-07:00

A slightly more cheerful blog this time! Summer School finished on Sunday, which was sad, but everyone had a great time and it was a big success. The smaller classes and ability groupings meant that we were able to give more students individual attention, and create lessons to target particular students’ needs, meaning the more able students got the opportunity to see how far they could go, and the less able ones managed to catch up on at least some of the basics. The students learnt a lot, not only in maths, English and Amharic, but also in terms of increasing their confidence, learning skills and classroom behavior.

I learnt a huge amount, too, both about individual students and about each class. I took a lot for granted when I first started – for instance, it didn’t occur to me that we would need to go over the fact that you must write on the lines of your exercise book, not just in a random scrawl wherever you want on the paper. This is something I have worked with the teachers on before, but they’ve been incredibly reluctant to enforce it. However, the students and I spent a whole lesson on presenting work neatly (it was more fun that it sounds!) and now all children know what’s expected of them, so the teachers have no excuse!

I also learnt that the majority of the children were exceptionally good at the ‘Memory Game’, which I wasn’t expecting at all. The activity involves the students looking at a variety of objects on a table, then covering them up and having to remember as many as they can. We played it as a ‘starter’ one lesson, and each class managed to remember almost all the objects, where I was guessing they’d remember around half.

The same was true of ‘See, Run, Do’, where one member of the group sees a picture for a count of 10, then has to explain it to the rest of their group so they can reproduce it. My (teenage) students in the UK often find it hard, but my children here had no problem!

Of course, some of my lessons prompted some unexpected reactions – some more unexpected than others! When doing the Memory Game, I was slightly surprised that nearly all children in the class identified the balloon as a condom! Clearly the health workers’ messages are getting through to all parts of the community, and T was quite proud when we told her. Ab and I explained to the students that it wasn’t a condom, it was a balloon, and demonstrated how you inflate a balloon … although we were then reminded that you could do that with a condom too. I came out of the class hoping that I’d been sufficiently clear enough to convince the children of the differences between a condom and a balloon!

On the last day of summer school was all about reflection, evaluation and celebration, and I wanted something we could do with all the students. Quizzes are really popular in schools here, usually as a way to monitor the quality of teaching in schools, pitting students against one another in competition. In my opinion, this is a particularly poor way of evaluating the academic performance of a school, but in this instance we thought it would be a fun, familiar way to finish the session.

So each class picked 3 students, who were then combined into three mixed ability teams. Questions had been prepared in advance, and students picked a number from a hat (well, in this case, a bag!) to select which questions they had to answer. After 5 questions each, the scores were very close – 11 for Team 1, 12 for Team 3 and 13 for Team 2 – but Team 2 were rewarded with packs of pencils (very kindly sent by my aunt and uncle) and a big round of applause. We also gave some pencils and pens out as rewards to children who had been really good students or had progressed a lot. I think the children were sad it had ended – and even Ab, who has decided that teaching is not a career he will be pursuing any time soon, will miss it!

So now we are finished, and this week I am launching into the admin I had neglected while teaching. There are a lot of loose ends to tie up, too, as I am taking a week off very shortly when my mum comes over . Plus there are the usual organisational issues that have been the bane of my life for the last two months and appear to be no nearer a resolution, so I certainly won’t lack for things to do!

4th September

2009-09-13T06:48:00.000-07:00

In the next installment of crappiness, the orphanage have been ordered to move out of their compound in Addis. The landlord has decided she wants to increase the rent by a good lot of money (I think around 2000 birr - £100 a month) and, anyway, has decided she doesn’t want children living there, even if the orphanage (and its supporters) could scrape together the required money.

There seems to be very little protection for renters in Ethiopia, so Landlords can just double the rent on their whim, or order someone to leave. There are tenancy agreements, but in my experience it’s rare anyone actually adheres to them – if the landlord wants to, he (or she) just ignores it. I imagine that if it went to court, it would be enforced, but (again, in my experience) rarely do people take it that far; they wouldn’t know where to start, they are too busy trying to find a new house, or they don’t even realise it’s an option.

I’m not sure whether that’s a road the orphanage will go down yet, but they are definitely in a quandary. This is the second time in three years this has happened. I’m not sure what these Landlords do – do they wake up one morning, a year afer they let the property to the Orphans Home and think ‘Hmmm.... Orphans Home ... I know that name means something to me ... oh yes, Children! Oh, no, I don’t want children on my property ...”. I mean, did they not realise this before? Why did it take them a year to decide they didn’t want children on their property?

And what kind of person evicts an orphanage anyway? It’s not as if they children are damaging the property or making noise so the neighbours complain; the neighbours are a kindergarten, a shop and a garage.

But at the moment, the orphanage face losing their offices, classrooms, kitchen and play area. The only option is to relocate, which will require a lot of money and a suitable building, and may mean moving away from the small houses where the children live. It’s not ideal – and of course, there’s the possibility that this will all happen again in the next couple of years.

It would be so much better if they could find a building that fits their needs and buy it ... but the money needed to do that is way out of our (and other Hanna Orphans Home supporters’) capacity. We’ve researched applying to a few trusts or grant making organisations, but many do not fund orphanages.

We will keep trying and planning and hoping and praying.

A Crappy Time

2009-09-13T06:47:00.004-07:00

One month today, I will have said goodbye to Ethiopia and will be waking up in my own bed, in the UK. Sometimes - more often than not - I am sad about this: I love Lalibela, I love Ethiopia, I love my job (most of the time!) and I love the people I work with.

However, today, it cannot come quick enough.

Quite frankly, everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong. First the computer blew up in the storm and we had no computer for a few days. Then we spent a lot of money, expended a lot of stress, and begged a lot of people to get the part sent from Addis, which of course didn’t fit. So we begged and pleaded again with someone from the internet cafe so they would swap it with one that will work , which luckily only took a few days.

Except then the modem wouldn’t work and we couldn’t connect to the internet. Okay, no big deal, at least the actual computer works. We can fix the modem later.*

Except now the printer and USB drivers don’t work, and nobody can fix them (nobody can work out why it’s stopped working). So I’m handwriting endless registers and reports, and trying not to think about the 200 report cards we’re supposed to be printing for when the children come back to school, or the 150 student files I’ve been diligently working on and which need to be printed and filed in hard copy by the 14th September.

So that’s the computer part of it.

The rest is just as bad. The maggots are still falling from the ceiling. My bath still doesn’t drain. Ab is walking around in the worst mood I’ve ever seen (and I have some bad moods!) and yet we can’t moan at him because we completely understand why he’s in a bad mood and he is completely justified. Added to that, his phone was stolen by people he was giving a lift to (for free!) a few days ago. What a great show of gratitude from them.

I am supposed to open the school for the new academic year in two weeks yet I don’t have enough text books, pens, tables and – oh yes – teachers , although in theory all should be here by the week of the 14th, give or take a few days. A and I are trying to employ said extra teachers, except what we want and need to do is very different to what the Ministry of Education in Lalibela are insisting on doing, and although the Ministry of Education have no authority to insist on employing our teachers, we have to get officials from the office in Bahir Dar to confirm that, and the Director who needs to do that is out of the country for a while.

Of course, with crappy communications, we have no way of conveying that to the relevant people. Thank God the phone network is still working!

In the meantime, summer school continues, where I discover that the deaf child who has been in our school for two years cannot even write or recognise her own name. This should have been picked up a LONG time ago ... by me, definitely, and it’s a disgrace that I haven’t, but also by the teachers and other staff before me.

In two days I have to explain to the community that the school will not be providing education for the 100 children from the area as planned in the Project Proposal, and who are excitedly waiting for September to come so they can start school (some even turned up to summer school they were so desperate to get in!). Instead just 30 children will be registered. I don’t know why this is, as it’s not a decision I’ve taken and I haven’t got any information about it, but I am the one who will be passing the message on.

The information and explanation should arrive with the Directors when they come over in two weeks – on New Year’s Day, when everyone will be off work (particularly people in Lalibela, who celebrate every Saints Day). On top of that, the organisational and administration meetings that are going to be going on at this time are really, really not going to be fun.

So, deep joy all round. Consequently, when my TV stopped working today as a result of yet another power surge I very nearly burst into tears, even though in the grand scheme of things a broken TV is not even worth worrying about.

In the good news department, I have a load of trashy magazines that my family have sent, so I intend to shut my door, get into my pyjamas, read my magazines and forget about the world and everything that’s wrong with it.

Ps. Yes, I am well aware of the irony of moaning about these things when I clearly have enough to eat, enough money, an education, a family and a roof over my head – and am working with a lot of people who have none, or very few, of those things. Indulge me.

*We’ve fixed the modem now, clearly, as I have managed to send this update!

1st September

2009-09-13T06:47:00.003-07:00

The rat saga continues!

This morning, A was doing work at his desk when he suddenly cried “maggots!”. Sure enough, there were tiny white maggots wriggling across his desk and onto his notebook. Not nice! We poked around and soon discovered that maggots were (are!) falling from a crack in the office ceiling, which is directly under my living room.

So, we’ve come to the conclusion that a rat or mouse had died beneath the floorboards of my living room, and therefore in the roof of our office, and the maggots have come to eat it. There has been a slightly odd smell in the office over the last day or so, but I thought nothing of it (there are a variety of weird smells in my life in Lalibela!). However, I have smelt the stink a dead rat makes a week after dying, so I know there is a lot worse to come!

The only way to get into the place where we think the dead rodent is, is to take apart the ceiling. This is a job A says he can do, but it’s going to be quite a big job which will take a day or so. However, it may be our only option before it gets so stinky in here that we have to work with pegs on our noses ...

30th August

2009-09-13T06:47:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, I walked into the bathroom in the way I do most things – thinking of something else, looking at a book in my hand and generally not paying attention. Luckily, something caught my eye before I put down my foot and squished the big, fat rat that was sitting there.

I may have made a slight squealing sound whilst doing a mad hop backwards and closing the door (did I think the rat was going to attack me?!). I definitely did wait a little while before gingerly opening the door again, just in case the rat was going to make a dash for it. I actually expected it to have run behind the bath, which is where they normally live, but it was still sitting by the door.

Was it dead? No, it was definitely breathing. As if to underline the point, it waddled slowly away from me before coming to rest in front of its usual escape hole. It made no move to go through the hole, though, and I realised that it was suffering the effects of the poison it had obviously eaten.

I know poison is hideous, I know it does dreadful things to them and kills them from the inside out in a very long and cruel way, but I was desperate! The glue (another hideous, long, drawn out way to kill something) was completely useless (the mice left footprints as they ran through it) and the rodents simply pushed the traditional mouse traps under the fridge so they could take the food while the cramped space stops the trap from working. I was tempted to let them live, simply for being so ingenious, and I made a deal with them – if they kept out of my bedroom, I would stop planning ways to murder them. But they wouldn’t listen, and I could see the time coming where I would wake up in bed and discover a rodent on my pillow ... I did what I had to do.

So, the poison had obviously been working its magic on this rat, and I was sure it was about to die. I didn’t really want it ot die behind the bath – I’ve done the whole ‘dead rat covered in maggots’ thing before, and it’s not pretty. Having said that, I probably would have been fine getting a dead rat (sans maggots) out of the bathroom, but the fact this one was still moving prompted me call A for help.

He came to my rescue, as he always does, and while H and I hid behind my bedroom door and made squealing sounds every time it sounded like something might be coming towards us, A and G (one of the guard’s sons) scooped the rat up in a bucket and took it outside. G then killed it (quickly) so that it wouldn’t spend the next few days slowly suffering.

I do still feel a bit guilty for the way I am sentencing these animals to a slow, painful death ... but not too guilty, as I slept properly for the first time last night due to the fact there are no rodents crashing round the house!

27th August

2009-08-29T13:09:00.000-07:00

Ahhh, the joy of living in my little wooden house.

1) My bath is now completely blocked, meaning if I have a shower, none of the water drains away and I have to empty the bath by scooping the water up with a bucket (or an empty tin can as the water level gets lower). If you poke a stick down the plughole, there is something very large and metal which has completely closed off the pipe (God knows what!) and so the pipes will need to be taken apart. Sigh.

2) The toilet used to flush when I filled the cistern up manually, but it has now completely given up and will now only make vague spluttering sounds when I press the button. We think this is because our water is not very pure, so it contains sand and particles which clog up the pipes and general system. The pipes which carry water to the toilet need to be taken apart and cleaned.

3) The rain is getting heavier and more frequent, which is lovely, as I really enjoy the Ethiopian rainstorms. However, my house is very flimsy and leaky, so I have currently got rain dripping from the ceiling in the bedroom (luckily in the bedroom I don’t sleep in!) and trickling in under the kitchen door (there’s an outside door into the kitchen, but it’s not allowed to be opened ... don’t ask, it’s a long story involving the Devil, a bottle – or several – of gin and some concrete steps ...). I also found some kind of mushroom growing on one of the (inside) walls, yesterday – nice!

4) It appears that the noisiest rats in the known world have taken up residence in my bathroom and in my wardrobe. For the last 3 nights, I have been woken up at 4am by the sound of rats careening around the bathroom, banging into buckets and the toilet cistern, and knocking my shampoo bottles into the bath. They sound like they’re doing some kind of obstacle race (maybe they are?).

Meanwhile, the rat in my wardrobe appears to just be throwing himself continuously at the wardrobe doors, rattling them and generally making it appear that I have some kind of ghost in there desperate to get out (maybe I have?!).

Both rats (ha – who am I kidding! All the rats!) have been eating the poison I laid out for them, but they won’t bloody die!! It’s driving me mad! I definitely need a cat ...

On the good news front, though, the fact that I am emptying the bath manually means I am saving water as I use that to flush the toilet, and the constant moving of water is giving me a well needed upper body work out!

And anyway, what more could I want when today I sat outside on my little veranda, watching the brightest sunrise I’ve seen since I got here, and drinking a cup of tea. If only the rats would die ...

23rd August

2009-08-24T00:16:00.001-07:00

I had a day off from teaching summer school today, and it’s the end of the 15 days of fasting, so this morning’s plan was to go to the market with Y and buy a chicken for the ‘dorro watt’ (chicken curry).

I actually really enjoy going food shopping in the UK. It may not be politically or ecologically correct to say it, but I like supermarkets, with their endless shelves of beautifully packaged foods. I would spend a while browsing the shelves, admiring the products and fantasizing that as soon as I got them home, they would transform me into an amazing cook who could throw beautiful ingredients into a pan, simmer for a while, and then produce a gourmet quality dinner. Needless to say, that never happened, but the fantasy was always satisfying.

Shopping in Lalibela is a whole different ballgame. My supermarket is an open dust bowl which, on a Saturday morning, fills with hundreds of people from the surrounding countryside who have come to sell their produce and buy supplies.

Things you can buy in Lalibela market include, in no particular order: sheep, chickens, spices, eggs, goats, donkeys, butter, onions, chillies, potatoes, wicker baskets, clothes, jewellery, honey, soap, coffee, coffee pots (called jabena), carrots, shoes and gabis (white cotton blankets). Women spread hessian sacks on the dusty earth and lay out the spices or vegetables they’re going to sell, while the men take the animals to a fenced off part, ready to haggle and sell for the best price.

It’s normally complete bedlam. Think Tesco’s on Christmas eve, but with less queuing. People come from miles around, babies snug on their backs, young boys carrying chickens by their scrawny legs, and girls inspecting the tomatoes to check the quality. When I come with Ab, I often end up clinging to the back of his tee-shirt in an attempt to stop myself being swept away in the crowd.

However, today was the first time I’d been to the market with Y. There are definitely differences between the way women food shop and the way men do it, be it in Sainsbury’s or at Lalibela market, and especially in a society where men don’t normally do the weekly shop. Ab comes along with me to help bridge the language and/or haggling barrier, so we stumble from one place to another, depending on the order of my shopping list. Y, however, goes every week to do her own shopping so, much like me in Tesco’s, has a plan and a route that she follows. Today, not used to having a farange to babysit, she shot off in the narrow pathways between the produce and I rushed after her, trying and failing not to slip on the mud or step on the women sitting by their vegetables.

The market is less overwhelming to me now than it was when I first went, partly because I now have a survival kit: 1) lots of change: it’s no good trying to pay for 6 birr’s worth of potatoes with a 50 birr note 2) a list of what I need, or else I could be there all day, just wandering around, distracted by by the colourful spices, beans and chillies and 3) a bag – no pre-packaged food at this market, and it just isn’t good when you have to stuff your eggs, potatoes and chickpeas into your pockets. You can buy plastic bags, but it’s a hassle and I learnt this fairly early on when I wanted to buy onions and ended up traipsing all over the market trying to buy a bag. Now I have a soft canvas bag which is my ‘market day’ bag. So much easier.

The last thing I need to have with me when I visit the market - an Ethiopian. Not because I’d get lost, or need help carrying my food back to the house, but simply to stop me getting ripped off. The local shops in Lalibela know me, know I’m living here and earning an Ethiopian salary, and therefore charge me a decent price. However, those at the market are usually from the countryside, and when they see white skin they immediately double, triple or quadruple the price. Not so much of a problem if it means paying 4 birr for onions instead of 2 birr, but when it came to buying the chicken, I was glad Y was there. Prices quoted to me ranged from 30 birr to 50 birr for a tiny chicken, while Y eventually bought a similar sized one for 16 birr – still a few birr more than she would have paid if I hadn’t been loitering beside her, but not an outright rip off.

In general, a farange at the market is a source of great interest and amusement to most people, whether they are buying or selling. Tourists do come to walk round the market and have a look at what’s going on (although not many when you consider the amount of tourists coming to Lalibela), but it’s not often that a farange is buying a chicken, or a kilo of onions. The women selling potatoes or tomatoes give an impressed smile when they see I know how to measure what I’m buying, filling the empty tin cans on their laps with the vegetables, and several boys today did double takes when they heard me speaking Amharic to Y. If I stop for more than two minutes, a small crowd gathers around me, mostly silent and just staring, while a few brave souls will venture a ‘hello’ in English and a quick ‘how are you?’.

Today Y needed to buy butter for her daughter to put on her hair (they use it to make their hair shiny and strong – sometimes the smell of butter from the girls in my classroom is overwhelming, although I’d rather that than the boys’ smelly feet!). One woman was sat on the floor to sell it, scooping the butter out of the pot with her fingers and measuring it using a small coffee cup, while a crowd of women squatted around her, all waiting patiently for their turn. I stood behind them all, watching the selling with interest (butter for my hair is not something I have ever had to buy before!) , before realising I’d collected quite a following.

A girl of around 16 or 17 stood beside me, a baby secured tightly on her back in a cloth sling. The baby peered at me with big brown eyes, completely bemused by this strange creature it saw and unsure how to react, while the girl giggled behind her hand and averted her eyes if I looked at her. A few other girls joined her, babies on their backs and with the same giggling shyness. A young boy came over to try and sell me biscuits, while a few older men leant on their shepherd crooks and stared thoughtfully at me. Only the toddler scrabbling around my feet seemed completely uninterested in me – he was more concerned about the boiled sweet he had spotted in the mud, and getting it in his mouth before his mother could stop him.

Eventually Y got the butter she needed and, our shopping completed, we started our long walk up the hill to my house. Our bags bulged with
onions, garlic, potatoes and carrots, while the chicken was slung over Y’s shoulder by it’s legs. In fact, it seemed resigned to its fate, with only the minimum of squawking and flapping of feathers.

Everywhere I looked I could see women heaving their weekly shop home, some balancing it on their heads, most carrying it in baskets by their sides. Children trotted after their mothers, while men steered their donkeys along the road, sacks of tef and wheat strapped on the animal’s back. People were dressed in their traditional white clothes, ready for the celebration of the end of fasting, and the smell of dorro watt and coffee drifted across the street. Definitely more fun than Sainsbury’s.

20th August

2009-08-20T14:22:00.001-07:00

I’m currently sitting in my house, a keyboard balanced on my knees and a computer screen on the wobbly wooden table in front of me. Ab generously lugged this computer all the way from his house and up the endless steps to my house so that I could use it today after our work computer blew up in the big storm on Tuesday evening. It’s not the easiest or most comfortable way to write and work, but I was going stir crazy; we don’t have summer school until next Thursday and I’ve started to run out of things I can do without a computer.

Luckily, the storm only damaged the transformer, so once that’s replaced the computer should work and all our files will be recovered. It’s not something we can buy in Lalibela, but Ab knew someone in Addis who could buy it and bring it by plane so it will arrive tomorrow. Normal service will resume on Saturday, when the power is on again.

We don’t have any summer school this weekend because it’s the end of the 15 days fasting and everyone is celebrating. This time, women are the ones who are most involved in the celebration (in Lalibela at least – it’s different in other parts of Ethiopia) with dancing, singing and ceremonies. However, the Lalibela air is filled with the sound of the other celebration that will take place this weekend – whips! Men will be cracking leather whips to accompany the women while they dance … and boy, are the whips loud! People have been practicing (and a few farangis were allowed to have a go) in the hotel compound below my house and it frightened the life out of me. I thought there was a gunfight going on!

I’m still trying to find out the actual significance of the whips. Like a lot of customs, the origins have disappeared from people’s memories and everyone just knows this is what you do at this time of year. We’re going to speak to Ab’s brother, who’s a Priest and should know!

I’m not going to be cracking any whips to celebrate. Instead, Saturday morning I’ll be going to the market to buy a chicken (I haven’t had meat for two weeks) and cooking chicken tikka masala for Saturday night dinner. Then on Sunday three girls from the UK are coming round to make vegetable lasagna. They’re in Lalibela for a month, working at the local hospital and an orphanage here, and I have already dragged them around to my house to play rummykub and card games. It’s really great to have them around, if only for a short time.

15th August 2009

2009-08-16T01:07:00.002-07:00

It’s nearly the end of the fourth week of Summer School and everything is ticking along nicely. It took a while for us all to get in the rhythm – we have two new teachers who had to get used to the way we do things (a bit different to the schools they worked in previously) and I took a while to get into it, too. Although I’ve taught the children before, it was in short bursts and only once a week, whereas this is much more regular (although, at 3 or 4 times a week, hardly full time!). The PSHE and Social/Emotional learning programme I’m delivering is a fairly ambitious programme requiring lots of planning, and I’m trying to make sure all resources and teaching activities I use are available for the teachers in the future, and that also takes time. But I think we’re all in the swing of it now.

I’m very glad that Summer School came so late in my time here. I’ve been in Lalibela for over 6 months now, and it’s honestly taken this long for me to really understand the culture and education differences. If summer school had been scheduled for a month after I’d arrived, I would have leapt at the chance but wouldn’t have had the knowledge to back it all up, and I cringe to think of the mistakes I would have made and the resulting frustration for both me and the students.

Not to say I haven’t made any mistakes, even now. There are many things that I’ve had to get used to, not least teaching groups of children who genuinely have no concept of the world outside their village. I’ve realised how much knowledge I take for granted when working with children in the UK – shared cultural references, a vague (often very vague!) knowledge of the world around them, an understanding of themselves as individuals – and so needed to make enourmous changes to the way I teach.

Another of my mistakes was totally underestimating the top group’s ability while overestimating that of the bottom group. This meant some very quick adjustments mid class! But I’ve got a much better feel for everyone now, and all three classes are making a lot of progress.

In my class, we’ve been learing about the body and physical space, about who we are and how we feel, and about the people in our community, including our families. This week we have been focussing on ‘working with others’ which has been a huge success. Some children who would usually sit on the sidelines and watch are now actively participating in challenges and understanding what it means to work as part of a team.

The work we have done on community has been really interesting, as I can see how much influence local community role models have on the children’s ambitions and hopes for the future. Many of the children will follow their family and work the land, and they have great role models for that, but as the local community expands many of them are realising there are other possibilities. Community health worker is a popular choice, thanks to the lovely T who is based in our school community, and of course lots of the children talk about becoming teachers thanks to the positive influence of our full time teachers, two of whom are from a small rural community like our one. Many children talk about wanting to stay in their community and help the people by providing medical care or education as they see how much it has helped them and their families. Of course, there are a few stars in our school who I would love to see become world class doctors, lawyers and academics, too. We’ll see!

On a more basic note, all of the children attending can now write their name correctly in Amharic – it sounds simple, but a large number of the children have managed to get through a year of school without being able to do it. We also spend two minutes at the beginning of every class changing the calender to show what day it is, which means the days of the week in Amharic and English are becoming embedded in their brains! Some of my favourite moments – as always – have been the children who have been struggling with a particular skill (writing their name, being able to name the day of the week) and it’s finally started to make sense. The beaming smile that B gave Ab and I this morning when he finally managed to write his name correctly from memory was wonderful! And the whole of the class got excited when D volunteered to change the calender today: although in the top group and very bright, he has a complete block when it comes to being able to identify what day it is (in Amharic or English)! However, today the penny finally dropped and he managed to name most of the days of the week without a mistake.

Of course, we have some weird moments, particularly where wildlife is concerned. Like last week when one of the boys pointed out the dead bird under the ‘storybook table’ in the corner. As I removed the bird, I had a quick look and it didn’t have a mark on it – I have no idea how it came to be dead under a table inside the classroom! Then this morning a saucer-sized spider shot up the wall as everyone was going out to break, giving a few of us quite a shock (I’m glad A wasn’t there at the time as he’s scared of spiders and would probably have shrieked in a very girly way!).

The proliferation of wildlife can come in useful sometimes though. Last week the bottom group (called the ‘Giraffes’) and I were doing a ‘sensory audit’ of the community – what can you see, hear, smell, taste, feel etc. Being a rural area, it’s actually quite quiet and you have to listen very carefully to hear things, so as we all sat there with our eyes closed I was concerned the exercise was going to end with everyone saying they hadn’t heard anything. Ab had even resorted to clearing his throat and making some heavy footsteps so that there were some obvious sounds overlaying the more subtle background ones!

A few seconds before the time was up, I saw a farmer wandering past the window, stick in hand and gabi wrapped round his shoulders. I was hoping he was going to add some interest to the activity and sure enough, a few seconds later there was a vibrating ‘mooooo ...!’ from one his cows.

Needless to say, a cow mooing was top of the list of sounds heard, but I’m pleased to say there were a few others mentioned too. I’m thinking of hiring the farmer next time I do the activity ...

13th August 2009

2009-08-16T01:07:00.001-07:00

I managed to get to Addis for a few days this week and pop into the orphanage. Unfortunately, due to lack of communication infastucture in Lalibela (oh, and the fact that I left my phone at the school) I hadn’t called to let them know, and when P and I did arrive, we walked straight into their celebration event for the end of academic year.

Of course, this wasn’t all bad as it meant I got to see all the kids receiving their prizes for good academic work or for winning the ‘inter-house’ football competition. Everyone was out in the compound where they would normally play basketball or football, and Hanna and the rest of the staff were handing out prizes from behind a big table. The children from the Shiro Meda branch had come over to Wollo Seffer, the little ones were bundled onto the laps of the bigger children, and everyone was clapping and cheering each time someone received an award. I love the atmosphere there on normal days, but this was even better!

However, it wasn’t the most convenient time to sit and chat with Hanna, so I came back the next morning (while a patient P sat and waited).

Everything seems to be working out well. The £2000 we sent over a month or so ago has been used to pay for the house rent on one of the new Prisoners Children's houses as well as providing a small salary to a computer tutor who will teach the staff and the students computer skills. The £2,500 we are able to provide for the refurbishment of the library also arrived in their bank account (taking slightly longer than normal this time, so we starting to get worried!), which means they can start gathering quotes for the chairs and desks they are going to buy. Hopefully, all the work on this will be done by September, just in time for the new school year.

In October, two wonderful people are visiting Ethiopia and have volunteered to take over whatever the orphanage needs (within reason, obviously). They are hoping to take over a lot of basic medical supplies like asprin, paracetamol, bandages and plasters, but also vitamins for the children. They’re simple things, but they’re not always easily available in Ethiopia and having a proper stock makes all the difference. We’re very grateful to the people fundraising to buy these things for the orphanage!

The other thing in the pipeline is that the older children at the orphanage have been invited to take part in a ‘social skills’ training course. The course lasts for 10 days, with three days residential, and the orphanage have managed to pay for around 30 children to attend. There wasn’t the budget to allow all eligible children to attend, but thanks to your donations, we are able to make up the shortfall. £450.00 is on its way there now. It sounds a small amount, but it really does make a huge difference.

With all this spending, our coffers are getting low ... so it’s a good job we have some fundraising events lined up! Our next music night has a latin slant, with Salsa lessons and demonstrations – email Maria for details at maria@blueskyonline.co.uk. You can also find us on twitter or facebook to keep up to date.

Paul's second (and final) blog post!

2009-08-09T04:12:00.002-07:00

(No, Jenny is not sleeping off another hangover, however, during my time in Lalibela we have partaken in germ warfare; lobbing ever more potent strains of some sort of cold virus to one another. Jenny is currently high on painkillers, which gives me - in my relatively lucid state - opportunity for a farewell post...)

Work at the school has pretty much finished so I’ve had chance to do some touristy things over the last few days. Yesterday I agreed to climb a local mountain with some of the Ethiopian teachers - which proved a humbling experience. What I hadn’t accounted for is that Lalibela itself is already 2000 odd feet above sea level so the air is pretty thin. My oxygen starved companions quite happily bounded the extra few thousand feet through the clouds to the summit – leaving me (after an overly enthusiastic start) to stagger behind fighting for breath. Excess consumption of caffeine and sugar is the only way I can explain how I finally wheezed my way to the top.

Other than that, some inexcusably bad (and wine-fuelled) attempts to replicate the local dancing (freakishly quick shoulder gyrations) and the accrual of classic lobster-esque sunburn bring things pretty much up to date after the last blog.

Looking back at the whole trip though - my endearing memory of Lalibela will be how extremely friendly the locals are to tourists. Everyone wants to talk to you! The only downside to these constant demands to exchange (very) basic pleasantries is that simply getting from A to B can be a lengthy process. I have tried seeking refuge in the company of fellow Westerners – though conversations have tended to revolve around the intricacies of the Ethiopian adoption process! I'm actually surprised that crowds of children dare follow me through the village given the frequency with which they seem to be whisked off out of the country.

Assuming Jenny hasn’t developed a drug resistant super virus (as threatened) to give me, I should be back in the UK on Wednesday – hot shower, beer and TV here we come...

Over and out

Paul

PS The ‘Jenny Ethiopian Experience Inc’ is only in business till October so I heartily recommend imposing on her if you get the chance (I’m proof that you don’t need to wait to be invited!)

Paul’s blog post!

2009-08-09T04:12:00.001-07:00

(Jenny is recovering from a night of excesses on the local honey wine so I – her (more or less) uninvited guest for the last few days – have decided to put pen to paper while her head clears...)

I’ll confess that I’m not a great fan of flying at the best of times, however, I was more glad than normal when my plane to Addis landed on account that (courtesy of my sneezing co-passengers) it had been a swine flu party in all but name. Introducing swine flu to remotest Africa is infamy I can do without! Despite my relief, I was a little surprised by the rolling green fields I could see from my window. The decidedly nippy breeze that greeted me off the plane and unceremonious drenching a couple of hours later clinched it - packing clothes based on outdated Ethiopian stereotypes (think Band Aid 1984) was a big mistake!

Some rapid acclimatisation later – and I’m now in Lalibela and in receipt of Jenny’s impeccable hospitality. Her house was apparently once used by Princess Anne –though Royal privileges evidently do not extend to the full range of creature comforts. We have running water sporadically, electricity every other day, and that crucial combination of both running water and electricity (i.e. a hot shower) – once in a blue moon!

I’ve been helping out where I can at Jenny’s school in the (very) remote village of Erfa. The building work has been progressing quickly – in no small part due to half the village coming out to watch my efforts and (thankfully) to lend a hand. The villagers literally ran some skilled builders out of town not so long ago on account that they threatened local employment...I have tried not to think about what their warm welcome to me says about my own building prowess! Lack of expertise aside, the football and volleyball nets I brought along have gone up in double quick time, the library has been decorated, a toilet installed – now there’s just enough time to patch the leaky school roof and attempt some dry stone walling...

That brings everything pretty much up to date – I myself was not immune to the after effects of the honey wine, so I’m off for a lie down...

Over and out

Paul

4th August 2009

2009-08-04T11:44:00.001-07:00

P, a friend I have done lots of volunteering with in the past, arrived in Lalibela yesterday morning, and I’ve already put him to work! He did get some chance to relax on Wednesday afternoon, but first thing Thursday morning he was in the car with us, on the way to summer school where he worked with A (and many members of the community who got involved) to put up football nets in our school compound. He’s actually going to be writing some entries for this blog for the next few weeks, giving his impressions of Lalibela and talking about the things he’s doing here.

Of course, that’s only if we have power. The power went off on Tuesday night and the next morning there was an announcement that the whole of the Amhara region was going to be without power for 15 days. 15 days! People started rationing the batteries on their mobile phones and think about who they know who has a generator. There were many theories about what had happened, the most popular one being that there was a fault around 150kms away which was affecting our suppply, but others said it was do with power surges and ‘crowding’ (I have no idea what that means). Of course, we all had to guess this because nobody official actually gave us any information.

However, as Aman and I optimistically suspected, the power came back around 3 days later, at about 6 in the evening. I think P was a bit bemused by all the cheering, shouting and clapping (espcially as it had woken him up from a nap!) but the celebration when the power comes back on is my favourite part of the power cuts. When the power was only out once a week (ahh, the good old days!) I used to know when it came back on, even if I’d gone to bed, because the whole of Lalibela would be filled with cheering when the lights flickered back on. Now the power doesn’t come back on til the early hours of the morning and everyone’s asleep, so there’s no cheering.

We have the power back, but now the water’s gone off. Hey ho, can’t have everything!

25th July 2009

2009-07-31T15:52:00.001-07:00

Today was the second day of Summer School and I’m knackered. However, it’s 10.00pm and I’m still not in bed. Instead, I am at the computer doing Google searches for pictures that will adequately illustrate words like ‘Happy’ ‘Sad’ ‘Angry’ ‘Shy’ etc (note to self: be careful when searching for a picture to illustrate the word ‘hot’!)

Summer school has been my baby – the first thing I’ve overseen from the very beginning – and it’s been on my mind in some way almost constantly for the last month. We’ve talked with students, teachers, parents and local government to make sure it’s as useful and effective as it can possible be, and it’s very different from day to day school here.

For a start, it’s being held on Saints Days (the one or two days a week that people are forbidden to do physical work – well, the people in rural areas, anyway) and weekends so that as many children as possible can attend (they won’t be working in the fields). We have employed two new teachers for the summer (to give our teachers a rest, and also to give the students the experience of being taught by someone new) and the students are having lessons in Amharic, English, and Maths to work on their core knowledge. I’m also working with the students for one class a day on things like communication skills, teamwork and confidence building.

We are in the new building (which did present a few problems in relation to water pouring in through the holes in the roof ...!) and the students don’t stay in one classroom for the whole session, they move around in a kind of carousel. It’s all about giving the students the oppotunity to develop responsibility and personal management skills (Do you know which class you’re supposed to be in? Do you have all the materials you need for this class, or did you leave them in the previous classroom?), and it also gives us as teachers a chance to decorate and arrange the room in subject and teaching specific ways.

Also, students are not being taught in their usual classes. Instead, they are grouped in ability levels and the focus is on helping the lower ability students reach the required standard, while also stretching those students who are clearly capable of great things!

We told all the students things would be a bit different at Summer School this year, and around 60 students registered. On the first day, around 35 children turned up, which was slightly disappointing but it meant smaller classes and more individual attention, so there were advantages. Then today we had 90 students! Of course, this meant frantically rearranging classes, checking lists to see which class they should be in, and making up new registers, but it was worth it.

I’m looking forward to seeing what the next few weeks will bring!

19th July

2009-07-24T04:31:00.000-07:00

A Hanna’s Orphanage update – finally!

A while ago, I wrote a piece for the Telegraph Expat Newspaper about the orphanage. We had a lot of people get in touch offering to volunteer, which is unfortunately something we (as UK based Hanna's Orphanage) are not able to support right now, purely because we don’t have the infrastructure or the manpower – but we do pass on any volunteering offers directly to the orphanage, so they can reply themselves.

However, Peter Hansen, from Pacific Environmental Consulting, got in touch with us and personally donated £2,500. He also challenged his staff to match it, so we had various donations flood in via paypal (you can donate via paypal even if you don’t have a paypal account – just go to our website!) and when some staff visit Ethiopia later in the year, they will bring over some supplies needed by the orphanage.

The £2,500 will be used to refurbish the library and computer room – buying chairs and tables for studying, new books, mending computers etc. The library and study areas are really important not only to the orphanage children, but to those children in the local community who come and study there after school. This kind donation will make such a difference to all the children by giving them a quiet, well equipped place to study, and will be added to the money we have already given the orphanage for computer training, ensuring the orphanage staff also get to upgrade their skills.

One of our regular donors, C., also managed to get to the Orphans Home in Addis and handed over another donation, so we’ve done quite well these last two months! We’ve also held another music gig in London, raising some more money and encouraging some more companies and individuals to offer their services and get involved. Thank you, thank you, thank you! (If you want to receive information about the music gigs, please find us on Facebook, Myspace or Twitter, or send your email address to info@hannasorphanage.org.uk)

When we do get mentioned in the press or on the web, many people start their emails with ‘I’m sure you’ve been flooded with donations’, but unfortunately that’s rarely the case. That’s why any donation, however small, makes such a huge difference, and every person who reads about the Orphans Home is one more person we hope will pass the word on to someone else. So thank you.

It's Bloody Cold!

2009-07-24T04:27:00.000-07:00

My God, it’s cold. I’m not really a person who feels the cold, but good God! There have been nights just recently where I’ve had three blankets on my bed, yet I’ve still had to sleep in my jeans, jumpers and socks.

Of course, it doesn't help that 1) I basically live on top of a mountain and 2) a few days ago I lived up to my 'stupid faranji' name and went out to photograph the rain yesterday. I got some amazing photos (and some funny looks!) but my trainers got soaked and with the power off so often, and the weather in general, it’s a real bugger to get them dry. I have a hair dryer here somewhere, so I’m going to try and give them a blast with that.

Yes, I went out to take pictures of the rain. The rainy season has finally arrived with a vengeance in Lalibela and the storms we have been having are just beautiful – proper forked lightning, vibrating thunder, and black clouds that gather low over the mountains. But that’s nothing compared to the actual rain, which doesn’t so much fall from the sky as throw itself violently at the ground.

I started taking pictures because I wanted to be able to show people the intensity of the rain – and because I thought it was beautiful. I could honestly sit and watch the rain for hours. When it’s really heavy, the walkway outside our office door gets flooded, and it pours down the stone steps like a waterfall. It also hits my wooden house with such force that you can’t hear anything else and it starts to feel like you’re the only one left in the world.

(As a slight aside, my wooden house on the hill is an endless source of concern for me, particularly during storms. For instance, last week I sat listening to the thunder and watching the lightning illuminate the whole town and thought “Something could get hit by lightening tonight. What’s the highest point in Lalibela? Oh. That would be me.” You see my problem?)

This time, I took my camera, wrapped myself up in as many clothes as I could find, and ventured outside. I spent nearly half an hour taking video and pictures, unsuccessfully sheltering under an umbrella, and had a great time! It was only when I started shivering uncontrollably (wimp!) that I retreated back inside.

Sometimes, I’ve decided, it’s okay to get soaked to the skin and for your trainers to start smelling of wet dog. Like last week when I was watching A and H playing volleyball outside the office and, without warning, the sky started dumping litres of cold water on us. We continued playing, and then when the sun came out we saw the most amazing double rainbow any of us had ever seen. It arced over A’s house, over the mountains and down into a shimmering mass above the football field. We stood there for ages, grinning wildly, staring and pointing, and eventually taking photos of one another in front of the rainbow, as the rain soaked into our hair, our clothes, our shoes.

I know my Nan is sitting at home, shaking her head and muttering about pneumonia, but I don’t regret it for a minute.

14th July 2009

2009-07-22T12:44:00.001-07:00

When I first started telling people I was going to move to Ethiopia, the majority of people said ‘be careful’ or gave me advice on keeping safe. I’ve been worried about a few things since being in Ethiopia – amoebic dysentery, wading through a river, and mice in my bed, to name a few – but I’ve only once felt in physical danger from anyone here. I was much more likely to be stabbed or attacked whilst in London than I am in Ethiopia.

But I can’t deny that the word ‘violence’ is one that is often at the forefront of my mind whilst living and working in Lalibela.

Since I’ve been here, there have been several very nasty conflicts around our school. In one, two members of the community came on to the compound and beat one of our workers badly enough for him to be in hospital and unable to work for several months. As far as we know, it was do with the fact the worker had come from Lalibela town (which meant he wasn’t really that popular already) and was having a relationship with a woman from the village, which – presumably – the men weren’t very happy about.

In another instance, some teachers from a government school relatively near our school attacked a member of the local community (I don’t know why). In retaliation, a number of the community came to our teachers’ house armed with various sticks and rocks – they had heard it was a teacher, and so just assumed it was our teachers. Luckily, – with devotion to the job I’m not sure it deserves – our guard grabbed weapons of his own, and told the mob that they’d have to go through him first (I’m paraphrasing – I’m sure the Amharic didn’t sound like a dodgy action film).

The ‘mob’ were eventually convinced that it wasn’t our teachers, and the other teachers had run away from the area (to escape arrest) so they were unhurt. The police are still waiting for the teachers to return so they can be taken to the court.

Another time, when we tried to bring some skilled craftsman (skills the school community doesn’t have) from the town to work on our school, the local men in the community decided they didn’t like these ‘outsiders’ and attacked them, en masse, with sticks and stones. Fighting even broke out in the community after our Sports Day a few weeks ago. Nothing to do with the Sports Day itself, thankfully, but the community was together, there was drinking and violence followed.

It happens in the town, too. One night about four months ago, I heard shouting and screaming in the town, and the next morning I discovered a man had been killed by two men he’d spent the evening drinking with. The men knew he was carrying a large amount of money, and beat him to death before robbing him.

I feel like this a more violent place than back home, and a quick look around could back that up: children are disciplined with a clip round the ear, crowds are controlled with a whack from a stick, domestic abuse is considered acceptable (not in all places, but in some places I’ve been it’s considered the only way to keep a marriage running smoothly). However, when I actually think about it rationally, that’s ridiculous. For every example, I could probably think of one back home, in London or even in my home town.

I also want to say that people here are much quicker to resort to violence without thinking or actually understanding the situation – but I remember the news reports of a paediatrician in the UK being hounded out of their office when idiots started rioting outside because someone confused ‘paediatrician’ with ‘paedophile’. So that’s not true, either.

Maybe it’s just that physical violence is more visible here, on a day to day basis? Maybe it’s the fact that it’s accepted as normal, an understandable response to any situation? The only way I can explain it is that, to me, there’s a feeling that life here is very fragile and violence is always just under the surface, quick to ignite.

Ethiopians I’ve spoken to point out that life here is more fragile, there is less security, less to rely on. They have other theories, too, involving a ‘survival of the fittest’ mentality, and a mix of poverty and alcohol. Others point to a lack of education.

Ironically, the catalyst for writing this piece was not any of the situations mentioned above, or any fight at all. It was two things. The first was that the man who tried to steal my bag out of the office and who tried to punch H, the guard’s son, came and apologised to me. He said he was sick at that time (which we knew already) and didn’t know what he was doing, and apologised for scaring and hurting me. I thanked him, but what could I say? I’m sorry for calling the policeman who kicked you in the head and threw you in jail?

The other thing was that one of the street boys here died. He had a growth disorder which made him very short and very wide, and he also suffered from diabetes. He often had money because he was a proficient gambler, and would win against nearly anyone at cards, but he only ever wore a filthy tee shirt and trousers and would beg from any tourist around. The other street boys would pick on him regularly, but he could give as good as he got, and was often as obnoxious as one person could possibly be.

A while ago, he spent some time in hospital after being involved in a car crash, and when I came back from Bahir Dar, he’d disappeared again. A. told me that while I’d been away, the boy had bought a huge amount of food and sat and eaten it all at once. His blood sugar had gone haywire, and he had gone into one of the little shops, lay down, and fallen unconscious. The owner of the shop took him to hospital, and he died there soon after.

It’s not a fight, or an attack, or a beating. But it felt violent to me.

14th July 2009

2009-07-20T12:28:00.001-07:00

I spend a lot of my time in Lalibela feeling foolish, incapable, helpless, and just a general freak. Often, this has nothing to do with my work – despite the fact I still have momentary panics about the fact people refer to me as the Director of the school, and the fact I am responsible for the quality of the education of 200 children, I do actually have all the skills, knowledge and abilities to successfully do my job

No, normally my ‘I’m an idiot’ moments come in my personal life and in my interactions with people. Of course, I feel a freak most times I leave the house, particularly when I find groups of grown men and women staring at me as if I am a two headed monster, purely because I’m white, or when I have small children plucking the hair out of my arms in wonder (“yes, I am farange, yes I have body hair, yes, isn’t that hysterical?”)

It’s not always the inhabitants of Lalibela who look at me strangely, either. Today I went to have some lunch at a hotel (I’d been living on injera for days, and desperately needed some faranji food!), and found it full of UK students dressed in football shorts. Listening to them chat and plan their football match made my day, and I said hi and chatted for a little bit. I have long ago lost my self consciousness about starting conversations with strangers, and people generally welcome the interaction … but again, this time I felt a little like I had two heads, and I soon excused myself to go back to my tuna sandwich.

‘Incapable’ and ‘helpless’ comes when I am in a situation where my baby Amharic is just not up to it, or the conversation is moving too fast and the sheer embarrassment at not being able to adequately express myself just takes over. Like today, when the Area Supervisor came to the office to collect some reports.

The power had just come back on, and I was alone in the office when he arrived. I knew he wanted a report about the final exam results of our students, and I knew S, one of the teachers, had compiled some statistics. I knew this because A and I have an endless fight with most of local government about the fact that they always insist on giving letters, requests for information and directives to the teachers (primarily S) instead of to me and A. No matter how many times we tell them (and they have to pretty much drive past our office to get to our school!) they still insist on doing it.

S always does whatever he’s asked with grace and willingness , and that’s great. Except that S doesn’t always have the right information, or he doesn’t know we don’t necessarily want that information made public at that point, or there is a vital context he doesn’t know about.

This was the case with these statistics. The request had been given to S, who had done it, but the numbers were wrong . So it was sitting on my desk, waiting to be corrected. I knew this, but didn’t have Amharic to be able to explain this to the Supervisor. He has no English at all, which is why he was unable to explain to me that the numbers were wrong, and I was unable to reassure him that I knew that and would be able to give him the right information on Monday.

As I got more and more frustrated at the language barrier, and more and more flustered, I was even unable to communicate that he should come back later when A was there, something I can say in Amharic. He just kept waving the form in my face, talking in Amharic and pointing out mistakes.

One of my many character flaws is the fact that I cannot bear being blamed or thought responsible for something that wasn’t my fault. I realise there are many millions of reasons why this is a very bad character trait, but I don’t have the time to go into them now. I just point it out to emphasize how stupidly frustrated I was at the fact that I was unable to say to him ‘I’m sorry it’s wrong, but this is because S had the wrong information. If you’d given it to us in the first place, like we asked, it would be done!’.

And instead of being calm and not taking things personally, I get all het up and flustered, which does not help anybody – least of all me – and leaves me feeling and looking like a fool.

H, one of the guard’s sons, took pity on me and went off to get A who was finishing his coffee in a nearby café. He came back, we went through the report, made the corrections there and then, gave the info to the Supervisor and all was good. (A also told the Supervisor again to please stop asking the teachers for the information and instead speak to us, as we actually had the right statistics).

But I just felt so stupid and incompetent that I’d had to call A back to come and rescue me. Not being able to understand or explain myself in a simple situation is bad enough (I constantly feel bad that I’m working in a country where I am relying on everyone else to speak MY language), but then I feel like an idiot because I’m getting into a flap over something so stupid.

Such is life. I just have to live with the fact that the Area Supervisor has probably gone away thinking ‘that mad faranji girl, no wonder I don’t ask her for information …’

Feels Like Home

2009-07-16T14:20:00.001-07:00

Just got back from Bahir Dar, the town which houses Lake Tana. Bahir Dar is around a day’s drive from Lalibela and is the regional capital, meaning it’s quite a cosmopolitan town – it has supermarkets, a cinema, a huge variety of bars and restaurants, all of that kind of thing. It also has Moenco, the place which services our car, which means we go there maybe every two months or so to give the car its health check.

I do quite enjoy going to Bahir Dar (it’s a change – and they have chocolate there!) but this time it wasn’t so fun. Power was the same as Lalibela (one day on, one day off), I didn’t have my laptop so I couldn’t do any work, and apart from the cinema, there wasn’t a lot of new things to do. I did do quite a bit of walking along the lake and around the town (Bahir is flat – bliss!), and I enjoyed the break, but I found myself missing Lalibela – the beautiful mountains, my house, my office, my own bed, my own cooking.

Lalibela felt like my home for the first time since I arrived (apart from those magical few weeks when I first got here and I was floating on the novelty of it all!). When we drove back, I jumped into the shower (there was water, albeit a dribble!), put on my comfy trousers and my kaftan thing, made a cup of tea, and padded around the house in a state of deep contentment.

Because I’d been away, I didn’t have very much food in the house to have for dinner – a bit of pasta, some packet spices, and some questionable potatoes. I didn’t want to have to go out as I’d spent the whole Bahir Dar trip eating out, and I couldn’t really afford to anyway, for the same reason.

Around 6, while I was still umming and ahhing, H, A’s girlfriend, came to the door with a steaming bowl of Dorro Wat (Ethiopian chicken curry) for me. Fabulous! Dinner sorted. Then Y, the lady who makes injera for me once a week, came with a large casserole dish filled with Kai Wat (meat stew), potatoes and injera that she’d made for me. There was way too much for just me, so I gave some to Ab and G, the guard’s son, and called a few of the street boys who we try to look after.

I was so touched by the fact they’d thought of me, and that I could pay forward their kindness. Neither H nor Y had to bring me food, and for the first time I really felt part of a community here, not just the stupid farange (which is how I normally feel and, some would say,act!)

Silly – or maybe not – how curry and potatoes can cause me to feel all that!

Sports Day

2009-07-13T07:01:00.000-07:00

Today was finally our sports day, and what a wonderful day! We’ve had a really busy few weeks, with interviews for new teachers, reports due, summer school planning, plus my normal training schedule with the teachers, and various admin and organisational issues which are constantly on everyone’s mind, so we were working flat out to get everything ready. But as we left for the school at 7am Sunday morning, we were as prepared as we could be.

(Of course, half way to the school, we suddenly realized we’d forgotten to bring the honey - a Lalibela specialty - the Parents Committee had requested. But in the scheme of things it wasn’t a disaster.)

When we got there, the school compound looked fantastic. The teachers had spent hours clearing the compound of stones etc, marking out a running track with white cooking ash, making a high jump stand out of wood, and putting up banners and balloons. The whole place looked amazing! Loads of students were already there, and their parents started to arrive about 8.30am. There were also political meetings going on in the area at the time (the local government office is next to our compound so they tend to come and sit under our trees or use our classrooms for meetings), so there were quite a few people milling around.

The parents committee had been working hard to make talla (local beer)and kollo (nuts and seeds) for the guests, and alternated manning the refreshment stall with doing crowd control for us!

Sports day started at around 9.30am (the plan was 8am – ha!) with a presentation from the music and dance club. Then we had

- wrestling, with some great skill, but also some seriously dodgy ‘grabbing’ tactics! I was concerned for the future child-creating ability of some of the boys

- The high jump – my God, these kids can jump! Everyone – farmers, government officials, parents, other children – were on the edge of their seat when M cleared the second highest level with ease. Sadly he didn’t quite manage the highest, but he won by a clear margin and there was a huge cheer anyway

- Gymanstics, using the mats kindly loaned to us by the Circus. There was walking on hands, backflips, handstands and the truly terrifying team activity where they built human pyramids. I couldn’t bring myself to watch – apparently I can watch the Circus do it, but not when our children are involved! – but it was apparently all very good and Am. and As. acted as ‘spotters’ to make sure nobody fell (they didn’t)

- Running – split into boys and girls, then again into ‘big ones’ and ‘little ones’, we had four separate races. They ran round a pre-arranged track either once or three times (depending on age groups). No sprints, please, we’re Ethiopian! This was another huge crowd pleaser, despite the few drops of rain

- Football: the big one! Our Project Team, the teachers and G, a local Government member, made up the Adults Team, and the majority of the bigger boys from both Grades made up the Students team. An exciting game, with everyone in proper football gear (including the referee, a volunteer from the local Farmer Training Centre) which was sent from the UK last year. Many new talents were discovered – for instance, who would have guessed that Ay., one of our female Grade 1 teachers, is such a demon in goal?! There were a few own goals scored, including one by As., a Grade 2 teacher! Understandably, he wasn’t very popular with his colleagues, although his students loved him! I didn’t count on S and Ab being so good – or so competitive! – so the adults team won easily, but it was a great way to finish the Sporting part of the day

After this we all moved over to ‘Tree’ which is our meeting/presentation place. It’s a huge old tree on the edge of the school compound, standing tall in the middle of a tumble down stone wall, and with a natural mud and stone ‘platform’ in the front of it. It’s an ideal place to hold meetings as the tree’s branches provide good shade, and the mud and stone provide a stage or a seating area. For this day, Tree had been decorated with balloons and a big fabric banner painted by S. Various shepherd boys had climbed into the branches to watch the action from a comfortable and privileged vantage point, and our Parents Day Helpers had put out lots of chairs for the audience.

The Parents Day was officially opened by the Head of the Kebele (like local council), who came out of a meeting to come and make a great speech about how the community need to look after their school, and how important it is for them to send their children to school regularly. There was more music and dancing from Asnko’s club, then we made the sports day presentations, giving tee shirts to 1st, 2nd and 3rd in each of the different disciplines, and baseball caps to the Adults Football team.

After those presentations, A and S gave a 10 minute Project Report, giving a summary of the last year of the school. One of the Parents Committee chose this particular moment to invite A. to come and have coffee with them … it was gently pointed out that he was actually a little busy, but it was fine for them to go ahead and have it without him.

After that it was a drama by the Child Rights Club which talked about the consequences of early marriage. I had no idea what was going on most of the time, but I could see the audience laughing and ‘oohing and ahhing’ at various points, so I’m guessing they got it!

I couldn’t get over how many people had come (many, many more than last year, apparently). There was everyone from mothers breast-feeding their toddlers, to farmers sipping talla, to government officials who should have been in a meeting, but were much more interested in watching what we were doing! A’s girlfriend and friend had come along, and our Guard from our compound in the town, Ato M., had also come. He caught sight of me taking pictures of the audience, and gave me a big grin, posing with his umbrella to shield him from the sun. I already have the picture up on my wall!

The final part of the day was to give out prizes for Semester Exam marks, participation in clubs, and just for general wonderfulness! We tried to reward as many people as possible with clothes, little bits we’ve had donated (colouring books etc) or even just with certificates, encouraging people who help, who get good marks, and who have made great progress by working hard

The 10 students who had volunteered to be ‘Parents Day Helpers’ for the whole day, lugging chairs and tables around, making sure everyone was in the right place at the right time, and generally helping Ab and I to ensure the day ran smoothly, all got Baseball caps and a huge round of applause. I also rewarded the teachers for their commitment and hard work, and gave them laminated photos we had taken of them all – the Grade 1 teachers were so happy I thought they were going to cry

When the students received their rewards, their parents often came out of the crowd and pressed 1 or 2 Birr into their children’s hands or onto their foreheads, as is the custom here. It was so lovely to see how proud they were, and that ended up making me a bit tearful

Lastly, Ab made a big announcement to everyone about summer school, and then it was all off to drink Talla and party into the night! Actually, we didn’t stay to party, we just went home as we were all knackered and I was running a full day training session the following day. Also, at least two of our party don’t drink alcohol anyway, and Ato M. was already a little bit tipsy!! However, most people stayed around the school and enjoyed a well earned celebration.

Everyone said the day was a huge success, including the Head Man of the Woreda, who is one of the local Government that I really like. He was amazed at how many people were there, and how well organised it was (apparently, I am much better at organising Sports Days than Music Gigs, which is why I leave the Hanna’s Gigs to the wonderful Maria!). He was also apparently surprised I was there and getting involved – I’m not sure if he thought I just sit at a desk all day?

It was honestly the most exhausting, most satisfying and most fun day I’ve spent since I’ve been here!

27th June 2009

2009-07-13T07:00:00.000-07:00

When I first decided to come to Ethiopia, I wanted to come and work with the orphanage, oversee the spending of the money we’d (you’d!) raised, and learn about how we could help even more. There was another motivation though.

I wanted to live somewhere where all those things I relied on to entertain and amuse me in the UK were not available. There were times in London when I would realise I was sitting on the train reading a book and listening to music, and flitting between eating a chocolate bar, typing a text message, and looking out of the window. It was ridiculous - I was incapable of concentrating on one thing at a time, let alone sitting and do nothing. I would panic if I left the house without a book just in case there was a split second where I might have nothing to do and I would want something to fill the space.

Not that this made me unhappy, it’s how I like to live (still, secretly, the idea of concentrating on one thing at a time bores me.). But there was a little voice in my head that wondered what I was hiding from – and what would happen if I took away all the outside stimulation I relied on.

Moving to Addis Ababa was definitely the first step. Life was at a much slower pace, I learnt to sit in a café and just drink a cup of tea; not read a book, write my diary, listen to music and drink a cup of tea. I didn’t text people 300 times a day as my phone didn’t receive texts, and I had very few people who wanted to text me in Ethiopia anyway! However, I still had books, music, TV, internet, and my computer.

Moving to Lalibela was the next step.

I say all this only to explain that I actually wanted to be in a place where internet and TV weren’t on tap, where I didn’t have an unlimited choice of food and books. And apparently, Lalibela has listened to my musings and decided to grant my request – with bells on

Current situation: one morning and evening of power every other day, no internet access, running water at a bare minimum (sometimes there isn’t even any water at the outside water point), phone network 4 hours on, 4 hours off (ish) and running out of books (although thanks to T who sent a box of 6 a couple of weeks ago!! 6!). I eat shiro (kind of like a chick pea sauce) with injera pretty much every day, with some potatoes or pasta (prepared with a variety of different spices) thrown in for interest. Occasionally I find some meat or some rice. I would kill for some proper chicken fajitas and nachos with cheese … mmmmmmm.

And then last week, in the midst of all this, my computer got sick. Despite several attempts at resuscitation, it was pronounced officially dead on Saturday 27th June at 7.34pm. It was very old and had had a good life, but what on earth was I going to do without my trusty laptop to keep me busy?

Luckily, in a rare moment of common sense, I had backed up most stuff on A’s computer about 3 weeks ago, so I don’t need to worry about losing all of my work and writing (although I have lost some). However, A and I now have to share the desktop computer, and considering we have such limited hours of power, that’s easier said than done – and it involves me doing a lot of late night typing!

However, considering my personality, I’m dealing with this all very well. I’m slightly ashamed to say that if this had happened even a month ago, there probably would have been tears and tantrums and stamping of feet (I may have wanted those things taken away, in theory, but I can’t say I was particularly happy about the reality). Of course, it does help that summer school planning can be done with a pen and paper, so I always have something to do, even without power.

But right now, I’m not even moaning when the electricity goes off without warning in the middle of the evening, and I’ve only complained a little bit about the fact we’ve had no internet access for a week and a half (and that’s mostly because I am trying to do things for Hanna’s Orphanage) . I’m not quite at the stage where I can sit and do nothing without fidgeting, but I no longer need to do 27 things at once. I also appreciate things a lot more: when the power came back on in time for me to watch the Vietnam Special of Top Gear on Saturday, I was ecstatic, and when A and I discovered six English books in the library in Lalibela (a library! I know!) I nearly died of happiness. Mondays are currently my favourite day as I normally have a chicken from the weekend market and can make something approximating a chicken curry, and the lady in the post office thinks it’s very funny that I get so excited when I get letters and magazines in the post.

Having said that, I don’t think I want to tempt fate and ask for anything more to disappear from my life. I am currently treating my MP3 player like gold dust, just in case that breaks too …

30th June 2009

2009-07-10T06:02:00.000-07:00

I had so much fun today!

We have our Sports Day on Sunday, and one of the sports the children are competing in is Gymnastics. So we invited the Lalibela Circus to come and work with the students, to encourage them to practice and to give them some tips. Yes, you read that right. The Lalibela Circus. Nearly every big town in Lalibela has a circus, apparently, and there are Regional and National competitions, too. Of course, before I moved here, if anyone had asked me whether Circus was big in Ethiopia, I would have laughed, but it’s really popular.

I first realised this in Addis when walking along Bole Road last October. Suddenly, I could hear music, which is not unusual as many cars drive round promoting films or conferences at an ear splitting volume, but then I thought I could see two people walking along the road on stilts. I had clearly had too much sun and was hallucinating. But no, as they came closer, I realised that there actually were two people walking along the road on stilts – followed by people doing forward rolls and backflips and leaps and all kinds of things. They were all followed by a big car with two booming speakers on the back.

Lalibela Circus doesn’t quite have all that (I haven’t seen them walk on stilts, for a start), but it has a band of around 10 incredibly talented people aged from around 13 years old, I would guess, to mid twenties. They do all kinds of flips and jumps and acrobatics, but they also do drama and sketches to teach people about HIV and Aids, and other traditional practices considered harmful (such as child marriage).

They also create human pyramids! When they came a few months ago and did a display for the children of our school and the nearest government school, and the local community, there were many grown men with their hands over their eyes as one girl climbed up three people to do a handstand at the top of the pyramid!

This time they did do a little display, but mostly they worked with our children. We were slightly late arriving (as usual) so it was a bit frantic trying to set up, and then we noticed that loads of other people – adults and children – were walking over to our school and settling down to watch the show. A and I soon realised the government school were holding their Parents Day celebration, and everyone had decided what we were doing was a lot more interesting so they wandered over. Oops! We tried to dissuade people, but gave up eventually and just stuck Ab on crowd control duties.

The Circus set up their mats in the compound and Grade 2 were bought forward to have a go. I was proud that quite a few students had a go, even if they could only manage a front roll, and we saw some students do some really exciting acrobatics. Some children were very shy and content to watch, no matter how much we tried to encourage them. I guess it’s a little intimidating to have your whole community watching you as you attempt to do something you’ve never even seen before.

This kind of activity can also be especially problematic for the girls, who are wearing dresses and risk all kinds of modesty mishaps while hanging upside down. Some put trousers on underneath their dresses, which offers them some protection. We do have some athletic kit for them to wear for Sports Day though – just normal trousers and tops donated from a school in Scotland, but it means they can take a full part in the gymnastics without worrying.

Of course, as so often happens, when Grade 1 were allowed to have their go, we had to fight to keep them back! The two Grade 1 teachers were stationed either sides of the mats to give students a quick swish of a stick as they got too far forward in their excitement. (yes, yes, we shall talk about the whole stick swishing stuff at some point …)

Not all students could back up their enthusiasm with the skills required and there were some very funny moments as children skidded off the mats or got themselves in a tangle of arms and legs. One particular boy was struggling with a backwards roll so one of the boys from the circus lifted his legs to help him over. Except the student decided that this was his cue to take his hands off of the floor, leaving the Circus guy supporting his whole weight by his ankles!

Nobody was hurt, though, and I must confess to spending a few moments during the sessions thinking ‘hmmm – can you imagine the risk assessment I would have done for this back home …!’

It was very clear that the children had gained skills from the Circus lesson, but the really great thing was that as we drove away, circus mats and instructors piled into the back of the car, the students who had finished their lessons for the day were still around, practicing forward rolls and handstands and all sorts. That was the aim of the game!

A quick note

2009-06-27T08:42:00.000-07:00

I will have no internet until I return to England in November so will be unable to update this blog until then.

19th June

2009-06-22T03:20:00.001-07:00

It’s coming up to the end of term and all schools are starting to get busy. Our school is no exception!

At the moment I am working with the teachers and the rest of the staff to plan a Sports Day/Parents Day, which will finish the summer term off. The morning will be taken up by activities like wrestling (yes, really – the children’s choice!), running, high jump, gymnastics and a ‘Staff vs Students’ football match. Then in the afternoon we will be holding the traditional ‘Parents Day’ where the parents hear reports on how the school is progressing, see dance and music presentations, and see students rewarded for this semester’s marks.

Parents Day is really important for the school community. Most of the parents of our students haven’t had any education and cannot read or write, so it’s no good sending home letters or reports about their children’s progress. Also, they spend a lot of their time working in their fields or looking after babies at home, so they are not likely to pop into school for a chat with the teachers (we are in the process of introducing a program which will get mothers into the classroom teaching traditional skills, but that won’t start properly for a little while).

Consequently, Parents Day is a really important way to keep them updated and for them to see how well their children are doing. It’s also a great way to keep promoting the value of their children being in school, and to address some issues such as attendance, which we’ve been having a hard time with recently.

But the Sports Day is a new thing! I originally came here to start strengthening the extra curricula activities, and this is my first big full school event. Hurrah! The teachers are keen, A and Ab are excited about it, and the students are practicing their skills. ‘Heats’ will be held next week to decide who will compete on the day (with the best will in the world, we can’t have 200 students competing in every event – and they would, given the chance!) and posters will start going up around the school compound.

A big focus for Sports Day and Parents Day is rewarding the children. Building confidence – particularly in the girls – is really important, and rewards are a good way to do that. They are also a great way of getting specific help to the students: we give clothes and shoes to the students as rewards for ‘student of the week’, and dictionaries for the three students in each class who get the highest marks in the end of Semester exams.

We try and focus not only on those students who get the highest academic marks, but also those who participate in lessons and in the dance and drama they do. We’re also giving rewards to the teachers, as they do work hard … and they have to deal with me as well!

We’re also getting ready to move into our new classrooms. The building will be finished very, very soon (fingers crossed) and new Grade 1 intake will start in September. I’m working with the teachers to get good wall displays up which support the learning, and to make the best use of the classrooms - space for active learning, a reading space, a science table, that kind of thing. We are lucky that we have decent sized classrooms, and I want to make the best possible use of them.

Unfortunately, we do have a slight hitch in the sense that we don’t seem to have enough tables to furnish all four classrooms. So, I’m trying to organise another ten or so tables before September. Oh, and a blackboard or two.

Driving – Part 2

2009-06-11T23:16:00.000-07:00

So, one of the other things I like about driving in Ethiopia is stopping for a drink and some food in the restaurants and cafes we pass (if I’m honest, most things in my life can be made pleasurable by the addition of food!). We’ve driven from Lalibela to Addis via Dessie or Bahir Dar so many times we have our regular places now. This one in Gynt, where L and I sat waiting for the tires to be mended, does particularly good tibs (strips of meat cooked in spices).

We’d finished our portion of tibs and had started on Ab’s by the time he came back to the café – minus the tire still being mended. They were working on it, replacing the inner tube, or something along those lines. Doing something to ensure we could continue driving safely, anyway.

By the time they’d finished, and we were able to continue driving, it was getting dark and there was no way we wanted to drive the four hours to Bahir Dar. Driving in rural Ethiopia in the dark is dangerous – people say it’s because of the shiftas (bandits) that can strike, but I’d be more worried about stray cattle – or even people – wandering in the road and us not being able to stop in time.

Apparently you’re more likely to die from a car accident whilst visiting Africa than you are from an illness or by being eaten by a big animal (I just know I’d be the exception to that rule). When I lived in Addis, I didn’t think Ethiopian driving was that bad – slightly frantic, maybe, and enough to make my Ethiopian friends returning to Addis think twice before driving a car, but not too bad. However, since I’ve moved to Lalibela, we’re always having near misses where a lorry has come bombing round the corner on the wrong side of the road (you’re supposed to drive on the right, guys) or someone has decided to run across the road at the last minute (the four hours where there were no cars coming and the road was completely clear obviously wasn’t a convenient time).

Anyway, whatever the more pressing danger, we decided to drive for around 2 hours and stay the night in a town before leaving early in the morning to drive the remaining few hours to Bahir Dar.

Normally staying in the hotels is also a great part of driving cross country. They’re nothing fancy, but we’ve found some nice ones, and it’s an adventure – finding a good one, arguing about whether I pay franaji price or Abesha price, settling in, trying out the restaurant (if there is one), all of that stuff.

God, these ones were terrible though. I turned down the first hotel we looked at due to the fact that the shared toilet was so revolting you could smell it from three floors down. The other hotel wasn’t much better, but at least the toilet didn’t smell quite so bad. My bedroom didn’t have a light bulb, so if I wanted to read I had to sit in the corridor, and the door only opened from the outside so Ab had to come and let me out when we left in the morning, but we were so tired by that point we took it. Well that, and there were no other options.

The hotel was just so miserable. It’s not the money that’s needed – it doesn’t matter if the hotel is scruffy or bare or whatever, but it’s the sheer lack of interest and care that makes it all so depressing. It’s the little things; rubbish all over the floor, bins not emptied, dirty toilet, all of that stuff. It would take so little effort.

Still, Ab told me that the majority of trade used to be the soldiers who were based here, so presumably they didn’t really care about light bulbs and clean toilets?!

We all got a reasonably good sleep, though, and we set off at 6am the next morning, just as the sun had risen. The road was less bumpy than before, so I managed to doze off as we sped past the people perched outside their houses making coffee, and kids taking the cattle and sheep to the river for water.

Of course, every time any of us heard a strange sound, we would turn the radio off and stick our head out the window, trying to hear if there was a leak in the tire … but we managed to get to Bahir Dar without any more flat tires, and even made really good time. I’ve still never been quite so relieved as when we had a complete new set of tires fitted.

Driving

2009-06-11T06:05:00.001-07:00

We went to the school on Thursday to show one of visitors around and for me to drop off some paperwork to the teachers. As soon as I got out of the car I could hear an ominous – and loud – hissing noise. I called Ab over and he said the tire – our last tire – had been slashed by a rock (not an uncommon situation on the road on the school).

We’ve needed new tires for a while, but for various reasons too complicated to go into now, the last few services have been cancelled. So we are now recycling the last set of tires and constantly trying to repair dodgy ones. It’s not an ideal situation – in fact it’s very far from ideal.

So, we were stuck at the school (an hour’s drive from the office) with three options: we use a slashed tire to get home, we fit a really, really old and battered one … or we do an 8 hour walk home up winding mountain roads in the blistering sun.

I wasn’t worried – we would work it out, we always do – but understandably Ab was not happy and stomped around a bit, before deciding that the slashed tire was actually the safest one to use. So he mended it using the chewing gum we’d bought on the way to the school and a piece of stick. I was very impressed – and it got us back to Lalibela in one piece!

But the tires really, really were on their last legs, so we gave the Directors in the UK a call and organised to go to the nearest place you can buy a set of tires – a good 8 hour drive away.

So, with 4 patched up tires on the car, and 6 slightly dodgier ones slung in the trailer of the car, we started on the long drive.

Driving in Ethiopia is always a real experience – and it’s one I love. My boss always looks at me in horror when I say I’d rather drive the two days to Addis instead of flying, but it’s true! Admittedly, it’s a lot quicker and more comfortable to fly from place to place; Ethiopia’s roads are often so unsurfaced and bumpy that you require a tight seat belt to stop yourself flying out of your seat, and a good sports bra to stop painful damage being inflicted on your body.

However, the beauty you see when you drive is often something you miss if you fly from one tourist spot to another – incredible sunrises and sunsets, huge mountains that suddenly drop into low rivers, tiny villages perched on the edge of cliffs, and astonishing views across miles and miles of countryside.

And then the details: the rusted shell of a tank left over from the fighting during the end Derg; the old stone bridge with the tiny carved roses; the women washing clothes at the end of the river, draping them over the rocks to dry, the villages with the lush green sugar cane fields, a stark contrast from the dust and parched trees of Lalibela. You don’t see that if you fly.

Driving also means stopping in villages where you are possibly the most exciting thing they have seen all week, and people seem to come from miles around to hide behind a gate post and peer shyly at the outsiders, or – if you are an adult – sit at the next table and stare blatantly while you finish your cigarette. (Staring is not considered rude in Ethiopia)

This is especially true if you have to stop and change a tire on a road going through a tiny village, as we did. About 4 hours into our journey, yet another old tire gave up with a final gasp and Ab had to start searching through the rest of the tires to find a replacement. Within seconds, barefoot children had run down the steep mud embankment from their house to the road, and were crowding round the car as Ab slid underneath it and began to jack it up. A few minutes later, men appeared from their respective houses or work, and stood leaning on wooden sticks, watching closely.

I generated a lot of excitement – as I usually do – simply by being white, but also by helping Ab unload the tires from the back of the car. I’ve noticed that Ethiopians tend to get a bit panicky when they see faranji women doing physical work (a tip: got something like a bookcase which needs to be moved around 100 metres, and although you’ve been asking for months, nobody’s done it? Start moving it yourself – within minutes, men will arrive from everywhere to take it from you and finish the job). However, these children just gaped open mouthed at me. Presumably, the only vehicles with faranjis they’ve seen are tour cars, and it’s unlikely the tour guides or drivers would allow their customers to help them, even if they wanted to.

I’d like to say that I then went ahead and helped Ab change the tire, but I have less idea about how to change a tire than I do about the intricacies of quantum physics. So I stood with the children and L, our visitor, and admired everyone’s hair and jewellery, while we practised our tiny amounts of each other’s language. Ab, meanwhile, was sweating and grunting as he – successfully – changed the tire.

The men wanted a lift to the next town, but Ab said he couldn’t risk having any more weight on the car, and we left again with just the three of us. Of course, this didn’t protect us from another flat, and about an hour later, another tire dissolved into a heap. By this point Ab was beyond grumpy, and for L and I the novelty of standing around while another village chatted to us or asked for lifts was wearing off a little. Luckily, we were only a little way from a reasonably sized town with a tire repair station, and so we limped our way there and handed over our poor, broken tires for plasters and bandages and whatever else they thought appropriate.

In a rare optimistic mood, I was sure they would be able to work miracles, and so L and I retired to a little café to wait …and wait, and wait, and wait ….

To be continued …

1st June 2009

2009-06-03T03:21:00.001-07:00

It’s a long time since I’ve been out dancing – in fact, the last time was probably when I went to Harlem Jazz in Addis with U. Okay, so last night I wasn’t exactly bopping away to Justin Timberlake, but there was definitely dancing and a lot of laughter, which is the mark of a good night out for me!

We had visitors to the Project this weekend and on Sunday I decided to take them for some traditional ‘tej’, which is a kind of Ethiopian wine made with honey. There is a great Tej bar in Lalibela where you can drink Tej while traditional Ethiopian singers make up witty songs about everyone in the bar (which of course I can’t understand, so I am constantly hassling Ab to translate so I know what the hell is going on!).

I’ve been there quite a few times but normally it’s just two or three of us and we sit and play cards. Last night there were 6 of us to start with – one of whom had never been to see any kind of Ethiopian dancing or singing, let alone tasted tej! – and we were soon joined by two of the Project’s teachers. Because there was no power, everyone had decided coming out was much more fun that staying in, and the bar was packed. Even the staff of the local airline office were there, possibly on some kind of work outing!

It started innocently enough, with one ‘tej’ each. Tej is an aquired taste – I had one friend say that if it was the only alcohol left in England she would be teetotal! – but I like it. Here it’s served in a choice of three strengths (soft, medium or strong) and I like the weakest version as it’s so sweet. Ab and I stuck to that, but the others went for Strong.

Soon the musicians came over and started singing and dancing for us. Now, these musicians once sang to me that I was “not very thin, but not that fat either, so it’s not too bad” (charming!) so I’m often a little wary of their songs. However, this time they definitely played it the right way by singing that in a beauty competition in the bar, I would win “55 – nil”. This is a good way to guarantee a tip from me!

Then the dancing started. The best known type of dancing in Ethiopia is the ‘shoulder dancing’. It’s literally wiggling your shoulders – which you think sounds really easy and not very impressive, but you’d be wrong on both counts. One of the great unanswered questions of Ethiopia, in my opinion, is how Ethiopians can make their shoulders dance almost entirely independently of their body – it’s a fantastic sight. Another question is how do they make what is essentially a fairly silly dance look so attractive? I swear, I have seen a woman do the shoulder dance in such a seductive way that even I started getting hot under the collar! And I could watch happily watch the men dance for hours …

We had six Ethiopians and 2 faranjis (including me!) in our party, and the dance skill level was directly proportionate to the number of consecutive years spent in Ethiopia … and the level of enthusiasm was directly proportionate to the amount of tej the dancer had drunk. We all had a good go though!

We all danced a lot, drank a lot, and laughed a lot until we were the last people left in the tej bar – we’d even outlasted the power cut! The musicians came and sat with us, and the guy played the Masinko (a traditional Ethiopian instrument which reminds me a little of the banjo) for us. Sadly, he was unable to grant M’s request that he play some Billy Joel songs, but the music he played was beautiful!

When we were finally kicked out of the bar we all piled into the car and trundled up the hill. I had then had the fun of getting one of the visitors up the many, many stairs to my house – not so easy when someone is drunk and not walking in a straight line! I held firmly onto their hand, and nobody fell down the mountain, which was a bonus.

It was a lot of fun, and it’s not often I get the opportunity to be so social. We also provided the locals of Lalibela with some entertainment when we attempted Ethiopian dancing!

Funny, though – or maybe not – that my favourite part of the night was when L and I sat on the wooden veranda outside my house at midnight, looking out onto the dark and sleeping Lalibela, listening to Angie Stone on the Ipod.

23rd May 2009

2009-06-01T14:07:00.001-07:00

I’m so ashamed of the British Parliament right now. And I’m a little ashamed of myself, too.

A few days before the expenses scandal broke (Google it!), A and I were printing off the anti-corruption information that all government offices display, to put on our notice board in the office. A said ‘I have a stupid question …’ which is the way we often start conversations about each other’s cultures, “Is there corruption in the UK?”

I, in my infinite wisdom, said yes there is, but it’s a different kind of corruption. It’s more about vested interests and directing contracts to friends who are going to repay the favour in other ways – corruption, but a more subtle form. I told him workers there don't often slip public money into their pockets, or demand extra payment for doing something which is their normal job, or claim expenses for three day meetings when they were only away for one day. It happens sometimes, but it’s not a normal, ‘across the board’ thing.

Ha!

I must confess, I have tried to write this blog post in a way that doesn’t make me sound like an idiot who believes corruption only happens in developing countries and ‘nothing like that happens in my country’. But I was unsuccessful – because sometimes I am the idiot who thinks that ‘nothing like that happens in my country’. This was one of those times.

So apparently, claiming public money for things like houses you don’t actually live in (MPs) and accepting money to draft legislation in a certain way (House of Lords – yes, I’d forgotten about them) IS quite normal in the UK. And that makes me both furious and ashamed.

When we talked about it afterwards, A did point out that at least there was some outrage from press and the public about it in the UK. Here, it’s just accepted as normal - inevitable even. His words, not mine, but that’s certainly been my experience while talking to other Ethiopians here.

This certainly doesn’t excuse my (clearly undeserved) sense of moral superiority. That’s been well and truly smashed now, and so it should be. How can anyone from the UK berate another country’s government for using public money for personal gain when it’s so publicly apparent that’s exactly what they are doing? They’re going to be – rightly – told to get their own house in order first!

(Of course, none of this excuses the actions of the corrupt workers in any country – just because it’s happening in Britain doesn’t mean that it happening in India, or Nigeria, or Ethiopia is any more acceptable.)

A letter in a weekly magazine I get sent to me echoed my thoughts perfectly: a man who lives and works in DRC said that the donor community there works closely with the local governments to implore them to stop the corruption for the social and economic growth of the country. The actions of the UK government have not only betrayed the British tax payer, but have also damaged the credibility of organisations working in these countries. And it’s certainly not the ‘fat cats’ of any country that are affected because of this – it’s the normal people paying taxes and getting on with their lives that suffer.

22nd May 2009

2009-06-01T14:06:00.001-07:00

I’m sick today (no idea why – I only had potatoes for dinner last night and surely even I can’t get sick from potatoes?!) and so have spent the whole day lying on the sofa (or in the bathroom …) feeling sorry for myself.

God bless A and Ab who brought Ambo (Ethiopian fizzy water – the best fizzy water in the world, beats Perrier any day!) and biscuits to settle my stomach.

The reason I bring this up is that Ab bought me a packet of Bourbons, and I’m intrigued, because all the biscuits were back to front. The two bits of biscuit in the Bourbon sandwich are upside down, so the rounded edge which you normally find on the outside of the biscuit are the sides stuck together with the chocolate cream.

No big deal (it certainly didn’t spoil my enjoyment of them!), I’m just wondering. Is it a particular Ethiopian preference? A cultural thing?!

I have to get out more…

19th May 2009

2009-05-28T13:14:00.000-07:00

‘What do you actually do all day?’ is a question I’m often asked (it’s a question I often ask myself). I do many things: some of which were on my original job description, most of which I enjoy, and a good number of which – I hope – are useful.

I originally came to work for this NGO as a complement to a volunteer already here who had worked with the first two teachers to set up a curriculum (within the limits of the Ethiopian curriculum), was providing basic training for the teachers on lesson planning etc, and overseeing the general running of the school. I was coming to introduce ‘active learning’, extra curricula activities, and to use my dance, drama and ‘alternative education’ background to help the students develop skills such as teamwork and communication, and to raise confidence. I was also going to work with the teachers to move away from ‘rote learning’.

It didn’t quite work out like that! The other volunteer has left, and although I am still doing everything said above, I am also in charge of the general admin and day to day running of the school. That means I monitor attendance, observe classes, manage the teachers, oversee the delivering of the curriculum, liase with the local government and provide the relevant reports to the people who ask.

I also assist the Project Manager and the Directors by being a bank signatory, preparing accounts, assisting with the construction plan and staff management.

So my days are generally filled with a variety of different things, both based in the office in the town and in the school outside. Sometimes – when there is power, preferably! – I’m in the office writing reports, planning lessons or training, collating the teacher’s daily attendance reports, and I’ve spent the last few weeks creating, with the Directors, a ‘Staff Handbook’ and financial policy and procedures.

Around twice or three times a week I am at the school either working with the students, meeting with the teachers or parent’s committee, running training sessions, or sorting resources. Once a week, I sit down with Ab and we talk to the students, creating files of basic personal information about them so we can personalise learning and fulfil our child protection responsibilities.

It’s being in the classroom I enjoy most. Although I sometimes find the teacher training daunting, it’s really great when I see them using the activities in their own teaching practice, and I can see the effect on the children’s learning.

Then of course there are the children themselves, and working with them is the bit I enjoy most – both in the classroom and out! We took a load of bubble mixture to the school this week and spent a happy 15 minutes seeing who could blow the most bubbles, running across the compound after them, and laughing hysterically – and that includes the staff and the teachers!

I also enjoy the office management side of it – co-ordinating information, setting down policies and procedures, keeping records … and just generally indulging my control freakish tendencies!

I was lucky that my job before I left the UK was so diverse – with some great mentors - and I developed a range of skills I didn’t think I was ever going to use. How wrong I was!

17th May 2009

2009-05-28T13:13:00.001-07:00

One day last week, Ab was working with the labourers building the new school building, when a Priest and a few other men from the local community came across the compound. They were all very drunk, and the Priest told the workers – all from the local community – to stop work as it was a Saints Day and work was forbidden.

Ab is a very knowledgeable and observant Orthodox Christian, and knew very well it wasn’t a Holy day. However, the Church Priests are highly respected by all walks of life in Ethiopia (and in many other countries), but especially in the rural areas where they are in charge of the calendar and informing the community when it’s a Holy Day or when it’s a general holiday. So understandably the workers followed the Priest’s orders and stopped work.

Ab went to the Kebele (local council) and they confirmed that it was a working day and not a Saints Day. He even got written confirmation from one of the senior Priests from the town. Ab spoke to the local Priest who, obviously still drunk, told him he could stop the workers any time he wanted and kept repeating ‘it’s our religion!’ – to which Ab pointed out it’s his religion too!

As it was, the Kebele organised for the workers to return to work, and the incident was sorted. I only mention it here because we had a meeting with our parent’s committee today, and I just knew that this situation was something that was going to come up … probably in among the list of the rest of things that the Project do badly.

Often, going into meetings here (not just with the Parents Committee) feels like going into battle. The Project is always in the wrong – there’s always a problem with the construction, or we’ve employed the wrong people from the community, or we’re not providing the things they think we should provide, or we should be building a health centre as well as a school, or the classroom is too big, or the wrong shape, or built in the wrong place or whatever. It sometimes feels like we are just invited there to listen to a litany of complaints.

In one memorable meeting, A actually said in exasperation ‘do you think we could one day come into a meeting when you don’t spend two hours telling us how terrible we are?’

Of course, some complaints are justified – and the local community are the ones with the superior knowledge, from how to get rid of termites, to who in the community has the appropriate skills, to which quality materials are best for the building – but mostly it’s problems that have already been dealt with, or completely random issues where nobody can explain why this particular thing is a problem. It’s just something to say.

After being here for a while, and talking to various people, I understand a bit more about this.

Firstly, I’m not sure communication about what the organisation was going to do was particularly clear in its first year, and there are still problems now, to be honest. Suggestions, hopes and aims mentioned carelessly in general conversations are taken as promises, and obviously when the project doesn’t deliver, it’s then seen as a betrayal. This is something that we know we need to get better at dealing with.

There is also the fact that, rightly or wrongly, the majority of Ethiopians in areas such as the one we work in are very familiar with big NGOs and International Aid Agencies and the unspoken assumptions that go with them. In their experience, NGOs and Aid Agencies have huge budgets and will generally provide a ‘package’ of aid – water irrigation, education, health centre, support for micro credit organisations etc. This organisation is tiny, set up by individuals, and reliant on private donors and fundraising, which means it isn’t going to be providing the Agriculture centre they want, or building a Health Centre – at least not in the next 5 years! This organisation is not the norm where NGOs are concerned, and I think they feel we are withholding money (we’re not!).

The head man of the regional government (who is great – possibly one of the busiest men I’ve met, but always finds time for everyone and is well respected) explained to me there is an assumption that everyone in the community should benefit personally (in monetary terms) from the presence of an NGO. In some people’s opinion, this is an assumption which is encouraged by existing NGO practices, but, again, it’s not how we do things. Obviously, the work the organisation does is of personal benefit to a lot of people (workers, etc) but we don’t hand out allowances to everyone, or anything like that. It’s a perception and – again – communication issue.

Generally, though, our Parents Committee members are great. M and A are brilliant at helping to bridge these communication divides between the community and the Project, and W is the one who always organises everyone to look after the construction and to make sure there’s enough water to mix the cement. The other members of the parents committee are not always so visible (in fact, I haven’t even met 4 of them).

So back to where I started – the issue with the Priest, who is also a member of the Parents committee. The three of us – Ab, A and I – went into the meeting with dread, knowing that it would come up, and sure that it would be our fault somehow.

Sure enough, towards the end of the meeting, the Priest launched into a monologue explaining how the Project is a problem in the community, how it is disrespectful towards the Orthodox religion and how the local workers are made to work even on Saints Days. None of this is true, and it makes me angry and sad to listen to someone running down the staff – most of whom are very religious themselves, and wouldn’t dream of not observing the religious requirements. However, I have learnt from experience to keep out of discussions like this – I wasn’t there, after all – so I stayed silent.

To our relief, the rest of the Parents Committee at the meeting put him straight and refused to agree with his accusations. They pointed out that he had been very drunk, and he’d stopped the work for no reason as it wasn’t a religious holiday – not only disrupting the progress of the project, but also denying the local workers their opportunity to be earning a daily wage.

The Priest refused to accept this and there was an angry exchange in Amharic which was too fast for me to follow. I spent a few moments being utterly confused, as all the angry words were being directed to A, until Ab reminded me that all comments in the meeting are directed to the chair (A), even if they are meant in response to another member of the meeting. Another piece of meeting etiquette I’ve learnt!

Eventually we moved on from this subject and spent some time organising the upcoming parent’s day, discussing strategies to deal with falling attendance and asking advice on when best to collect stone to fit in with the farming calendar (if we drive the lorry around the community to collect stone at the wrong time of the year, we run the risk of damaging crops). All the while, the Priest sat with his arms folded and refused to engage with the rest of the meeting.

I’m constantly thankful (as are the community, I’m sure!) that I’m not the one who deals with most of the community liaison and engagement in this context (Ab does this brilliantly). There are so many cultural perceptions and baggage (from both sides) to untangle before you can begin to work productively, and clashes of understanding and interests are inevitable.

However, even without the issue of the Priest and his drunken interference, this was probably the most productive meeting we’ve had for a long time – and I confess, there was a slightly victorious feeling on the way home in the car.

In other news…

2009-05-21T00:37:00.000-07:00

- We are currently doing ‘one day on, one day off’ with electricity, and it will probably be like this for the next couple of months. I actually don’t mind, because at least we’ve got a schedule now! It just means I work a 12 hour day when it’s an ‘electricity day’, and treat myself to a small nap in the afternoon when it’s not (unless I’m at the school, in which case it’s kind of frowned upon to sleep in class)!

- I have got rid of the mice and the rat, which is a good thing, but I now have a new flatemate in the shape of a lizard. He lives above my door and appears at around 9pm (although occasionally he’s there when I finish work). I definitely prefer him to the rat, but both Ab and A are horrified and would rather go for the rodents.

- I am now the proud owner of a little gas stove (my main cooker is electric) so that I can cook at home when the power is off. However, I’m still a little bit scared of it (it involves naked flames and gas – and ME!) so I won’t use it in the dark, which of course defeats the object slightly. However, practice makes perfect…

12th May 2009

2009-05-21T00:36:00.001-07:00

It was the Virgin Mary’s birthday last weekend.

This may not actually be true, I haven’t managed to Google it (and, to my Grandmother’s disappointment, I obviously didn’t listen in my Holy Communion classes so I don’t actually know) but it was what I was told we were celebrating on Saturday.

Lalibela has more holidays than anywhere I have ever been – or maybe it just seems that way. Every month there are 4 Saints Days that are observed in the rural areas (less so in the main town - the bank is still open, and everyone works). These Saints days celebrate the Virgin Mary, St. Michael, Saviour of the World (Jesus) and God. Occasionally I find them slightly frustrating as it means all the construction work on the new school stops, however, generally people offer you nice food and drink to celebrate, so there are compensations!

This Saturday, the way to celebrate was apparently to make and drink lots of coffee. The coffee ceremony is very important in Ethiopian culture – both as an everyday thing, but also for celebrations and to welcome guests. The ceremony can be a very elaborate thing, spreading grass on the ground, roasting the coffee beans and burning incense, before pouring the required 3 cups of coffee.

In the morning I wandered down to the Seven Olives Hotel (great terrace to have a drink on, by the way) and some of the staff were doing a coffee ceremony behind a large floral sheet fitted up as a kind of screen. I couldn’t see what was going on, but that delicious coffee smell I love wafted out every so often.

I thought they’d just hung up the sheet to give themselves some privacy from guests, but when I got back to my compound, the guard’s sons, H and G were also doing industrious things with bedsheets and large rocks outside the office.

All became clear later when I came down the steps from my house and saw that the entrance area to the office had been turned into a kind of den. It turns out that the coffee making on this Saints Day is done outside, but under in a shelter, to remember how Mary had to make shelters for her family (although I’m guessing Joseph probably helped out too) while they were escaping to Egypt.

So we sat on the cushions and mats inside the little den while A’s girlfriend made coffee and passed around some popcorn (my favourite part of the coffee ceremony).

I’ve been so lucky that during the time I’ve been in Ethiopia I’ve always been able to experience these celebrations as a member of the community rather than a tourist (even if I don’t blend in completely) and that’s entirely down to the generosity and hospitality of the Ethiopians I know. They put up with my stupid questions, and are always happy to explain the reasoning behind what they are doing.

I wish I’d been able to reciprocate when they asked me to explain exactly why we pull Crackers at Christmas. I still have absolutely no idea!

9th May 2009

2009-05-15T12:56:00.000-07:00

I am finally in Lalibela – the replacement flight went off without a hitch on Friday morning. Admittedly, it felt like the longest flight in the world as it called at every possible stop (domestic flights here are a little like busses!), but I was very grateful to get to Lalibela and get settled in again.

I’m also glad I got the chance to take that extra hot shower at the hotel – I have arrived to no running water in my house, so it’s back to collecting water from a tap outside and washing out of a bucket. I’m getting better at washing my hair in this way, though, so practice makes perfect!

Before I left Addis, I did manage to visit the orphanage and get some updates on how things are going.

First, I dropped off lots of pens, pencil cases, paper and small toys which had been donated to us by staff at my local (in England, obviously!) branch of WHSmith. The orphanage also recently had a visit from a Hanna’s Orphanage supporter from England, J, who bought with her clothes and toys as well as a very useful cash donation!

I do wish there was a way for us to cost-effectively ship donations over so that we could take advantage of the things people offer us (computers, for instance), but it’s just not feasible. Instead we rely on people like J who are holidaying in Ethiopia and are kind enough to get in touch with us before their trip, asking if they can take anything. We also do believe that most things the orphanage needs can be bought in Ethiopia rather than the UK, thus putting the money into the local economy rather than shipping companies.

Anyway, the small things we do bring over are welcomed, and will often be used as rewards for children who have got high marks at school, or made really good progress.

I then spent a little while with Hanna, who has been sick over the last few weeks. As I’ve said before, Hanna is the reason the orphanage exists, and she does the work of 5 or 6 six normal people - rushing round between branches of the orphanage, liasing with donors, managing staff and meeting with government officials. I was lucky to catch her in the office – blink, and you’ll miss her! She still manages to give every child the attention they need, though, and the children clearly adore her – as do most of the staff! She has recovered from her illness, thankfully, and now seems to be glowing with health!

Of course, the orphanage have had a stressful few months, with two children being seriously ill in hospital (see ‘Prayers and Thoughts’, 10th April, 09). I am pleased to say that both children are out of hospital, but both are still sick and need careful 24 hour care. One of the children has lost her sight and a lot of her mobility as a result of her illness, and although the Doctors say she may recover,
it’s not certain. Please keep them both in your thoughts and prayers, and if anyone does want to make a donation, we are currently creating an ‘emergency fund’ which we hope will be able to provide money for situations such as these, when children need extensive medical care and help. (You can donate through the website, www.hannasorphanage.org.uk)

Other than that, things seem to be ticking along nicely at the orphanage, although they are still waiting for the money we transferred to them to arrive. Hopefully it should be there on Monday – very frustrating!

As I was leaving, I managed to see one of the girls, H, who I met on my very first trip to Ethiopia. We write to one another when we can, and it’s great to watch her grow up. She has big exams coming up in the near future, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed for her, and looking forward to seeing her afterwards.

Now, though, I have to get ready to launch myself into my work with LEAP on Monday …

7th May 2009

2009-05-12T00:39:00.000-07:00

I just knew saying how much I loved airports was going to come back and bite me on the ass!!

Today, I crawled out of bed at 4.45am and the lovely M took me to the airport to check in for my 7.30pm flight to Lalibela. The first sign that things weren’t going to go plan was the fact I’d lost my ticket and couldn’t find it anywhere. I emptied all my bags and searched all over E and M’s house, but it was nowhere to be seen.

I was sure actually checking in would be no problem as my booking would be on the computer system, but getting past the guards and into the airport itself would be an issue: they’re very strict on the rule you have to show ID and a ticket before being able to go in. But the only option was to try, so I loaded all my bags on a trolley and went with M to try and explain to the guards.

For the first time ever, the guard didn’t ask for my ticket, just checked my passport and waved me through. Fantastic! I hurriedly waved goodbye to M and shot over to the luggage scanners, before they changed their mind!

Check in was fine, and the lovely man organising it found my booking on the system without a problem. He didn’t even notice that my luggage was just slightly overweight (with teaching materials … and, er, books for me). So far so good.

I went up the escalator to the departure lounge, looking forward to having a cup of tea in my usual café while reading my book, and then having a good sleep on the plane. I got my cup of tea, finished a couple of chapters of my book and we boarded roughly on time.

A note about boarding domestic flights in Ethiopia (although it may be the same in all countries – I have no idea!). There are no fixed seats on domestic flights so it’s a bit of an ‘every man for himself’ situation, but I’ve got it down to a fine art now. Normally you go from the boarding lounge to a bus, and everyone rushes to be on there first – there’s really no need. If you’re last on the bus then you’re first off the bus – and that’s where you really need your running shoes!

Being British, I like to appear polite and give the impression I’m not really trying to push past that Monk and the pregnant woman and get on the plane first, but who am I kidding? So I do this kind of running walk/shuffle and I’m getting quite good at being within the first ten on the plane, thus securing a coveted window seat.

But I digress.

I dozed as we waited for the plane to take off, but I woke up as we started taxiing along the runway, gathering speed for the take off. Abruptly, we stopped, and I heard the pilot say ‘doors open’. Hmm. I wasn’t particularly awake, but I guessed that wasn’t good.

I was right, it wasn’t. The pilot announced there was a mechanical failure, so we would be waiting at the airport until it was fixed. This has happened to me once before when I was flying from Addis to Lalibela, and they had tried to fix it for 30 minutes or so before transferring us to another aeroplane, so I wasn’t particularly worried and settled down to read my book.

But 30 minutes later the pilot announced that it was going to take a lot longer than they thought to fix the problem, and it would be much more comfortable for us to wait in the airport. He had a point – it was becoming stiflingly hot on the plane, and everyone was getting irritable and restless.

So we all trooped off of the plane, back on the bus (no running this time!) and back to the airport lounge where we sat for a further 45 minutes or so, before a very nice man came over and told us that the plane was unlikely to be mended in the next hour and the airline would be providing us with refreshments. Great!

We were led into an airport café where we were given vouchers and told we could get a hot breakfast – except the only thing I could see being cooked was omelette, and I hate eggs. When I asked one of the waitresses if there was anything else but egg, she just shrugged and grunted. I, being a drama queen, flounced off back to my table and sulked until a nice lady came over with some cake and tea for me. Suitably embarrassed, I thanked her and ate my breakfast with no further complaint.

I can’t remember how long we sat there, but I was acutely aware of Ab and A waiting for me at Lalibela airport. I couldn’t even call them as there’s no phone reception there, although I sent Ab a text message just in case it got through. I could only hope that the airport staff there would tell them (which they’re normally quite good at doing).

Typically, the minute I decided to nip off to the loo was when everything started happening, and I came back to café to find people collecting bags and quizzing airport staff who were waving lists and muttering into crackling walkie-talkies. I soon discovered that our plane was broken, there were no other planes to take us, and the afternoon flights to Lalibela had been cancelled because of strong winds. So all passengers travelling to Bahir Dar were led off to be rebooked onto the afternoon flights, but Lalibela passengers were taken to the immigration area while they tried to figure out what to do with us!

I attached myself to few people who looked as if they knew what was going on, and eventually the airline people reappeared to tell us we’d been booked into a four star hotel, would be reunited with our luggage and then put on flights the next morning. I was so grateful, as I’d started to fear we’d have to fend for ourselves and that we would never see our luggage again. Totally unfounded fears, as it turned out.

Thankfully, I also managed to get hold of Ab so I could apologise profusely for making him wait at the airport for 3 hours!

So I am currently sitting on my bed in said four star hotel after a lovely lunch of fish goulash and rice. The hotel staff and airline staff have been great, and I’m very excited that I get to have one more proper hot shower before going back to Lalibela. Bliss!

Coming and Going

2009-05-12T00:37:00.002-07:00

I’m used to flying backwards and forwards to Ethiopia – this is probably my tenth trip – and I’m normally really looking forward to it. I have to confess that this time I wasn’t. In fact, there was a heavy sense of dread in my stomach as I did the last bits of my packing, and a growing voice in my head that said ‘I don’t want to go’.

The main reason behind my reluctance was pretty simple – I wanted my life in London back. I’d spent a lovely day on Sunday in and around London, doing the kind of thing I would have been doing on a bank holiday weekend if I still lived there (mostly sitting on rail replacement bus services, if I’m honest, but even so …) and I was – yet again – leaving that life and my friends again, and going back to a place where I am forced to confront my character flaws at least 3 times a day! No surprise that I wasn’t rushing to get on the plane.

But luckily some of my long-suffering friends talked me round (advice summary: “you’re going, deal with it’), I had coffee with a friend who always manages to inspire me, and quite frankly, even I had started to get bored with my self-pitying moaning.

So by the time I’d got to the airport, I was feeling slightly more positive.

Of course, the other thing that helped is that I love airports. Really, really love them. I don’t know why, but I could sit for hours in an airport (departures or arrivals, I’m not fussy) and no matter how rubbish I’m feeling, I start to brighten up. I think it’s partly because I love to watch the huge variety of people around me and wonder what they’re doing there. Where are they going? Who with? Why? Who’s come to pick them up? How long have they been away and what did they do there? Basically, I’m nosy, and what better place to people-watch than an airport?

Then there’s the fact that it’s a ‘limbo’ of sorts. You’ve left, but you haven’t quite started the journey. I’m not particularly good with limbo, but I am good at spending time in a place where everything I need for a good afternoon is nearby – chocolate, books, tea, and a comfy seat – and I have no responsibilities or decisions more taxing than ‘Wispa or twirl?’

Eventually I did have to leave the womb of the departures lounge and I’m now in Addis, staying at E and M’s. I fly to Lalibela tomorrow, and have mixed feelings about it. I’ve already got wind of the frustrations that await me there (and this time, it has absolutely nothing to do with the local community and/or culture!) and it makes my heart sink.

But I’m here, it’s sunny and warm, I have injera and wat for dinner, and E and M’s baby breaks into a huge grin every time I walk into the room. It could be worse!

4th May 2009

2009-05-12T00:37:00.001-07:00

The Hanna’s Orphanage fundraising gig raised over £500, which may not sound a lot, but in the current economic situation, I think we can be happy! So thank you again to everyone who donated, attended, told friends, or bought raffle tickets. We really appreciate it, and hope you will continue to support us.

The money will be added to other money we’ve raised and will pay the rent on a branch of the orphanage in Hosanna. It will also provide computer skills to the children and staff in the orphanage, as well as to some children from the local community.

It’s not too late to donate – just go to www.hannasorphanage.org.uk and pay via paypal (you don’t have to have a paypal account to do this) or you can send a cheque to the address on the website.

Hanna's Gig - April 2009

2009-05-01T13:16:00.001-07:00

The Hanna’s Orphanage Fundraising gig was a big success – we had a great turn out, the music was fantastic, the venue was lovely and the raffle prizes were fancy (Ipod Shuffle, anybody? Cakes? A Month's membership at David Lloyd gym? Boot Camp? Lots of lovely cakes? Who could ask for more!). Thanks so much to everyone who came along, and especially those who donated or bought raffle tickets. I’m not certain how much we’ve raised yet – it’s being counted – but we’d made around £350 on the raffle alone when a rough count was done during the evening.

This is our 6th gig (or thereabouts – it may have been 5?) and I have definitely come to the conclusion that the gigs are much better when I’m not involved in organising them. As touched upon before, I am a rubbish hostess, and organising a gig (which is essentially a large party!) is not my forte at all. Luckily, I have the fabulous Maria who organises them all!

They probably take place around 2 or 3 times a year, and so many people support us for free: from the Abbey Bar who let us use their venue, to the sound guys who come and work for us, to the companies and individuals who give raffle prizes. And of course, then there are the friends who are regularly bullied into selling raffle tickets and brandishing collection buckets.

Interestingly, our fundraising gigs would never have started if it weren't for the internet. Nearly all of the music acts we have playing for us were discovered on the internet (myspace etc.) and guests are still mostly invited via myspace and facebook. So a clear case of the social networking sites being used for something fabulous!

As soon as I know how much we made, I will update you. All the money raised will go towards paying the rent for some of the children’s houses in Ethiopia, particularly the Prisoners’ Children’s Homes’ (see Sunday 3rd August 2008 blog post) in Jimma, Harar and Hosanna.

For more pictures and videos from the gig, please go to www.myspace.com/hannasorphanage, and if you want details of the next gig, please email me or Maria at maria@blueskyonline.co.uk

Hanna’s Orphanage Fundraising Gig – TOMORROW!

2009-04-28T09:24:00.000-07:00

Slightly late notice, sorry!

If you’re in London, please come along to our second live music fundraising night of 2009 on 29th April, 7.30pm – 11.30pm. We have the customary raffle, a silent auction and of course top notch live music from some truly amazing acts plus some lovely little treats along the way too.

Playing for your ears’ pleasure are:

Lee MacDougall - lee is simply amazing. He causes quite a stir wherever he plays. Have a little listen at www.myspace.com/leemacdougall

Rhys Morgan - Rhys is signed to Sony/BMG and is about to embark on tour supporting the group 'Ben's Brother'. A truly amazing performer and a hit with the laydeez! www.myspace.com/rhysmorganmusic

Lotte Mullan - A meltingly gorgeous singer / songwriter who combines folk, blues and pop to create something truly sensational. Catch her at www.myspace.com/lottemullan

Jamie Abbott - a pop artist with songs that resonate. With influences ranging from Dizzee through to Lamontagne he has a unique sound which is complimented by a distinctive vocal. He'll have that foot tapping away! www.myspace.com/jamieabbottmusic

Molly and Charlie - a gorgeous blend of pop, dance meets acoustic folk kinda vibe. Truly unique. Fans of chart topping dance music will recognise Molly as the voice behind several chart topping, floor filling tracks such as 'Raindrops'. Check them out at www.myspace.com/mollyandcharlie

We are looking for a great turnout, so please tell friends and colleagues. Spread the word! The more the merrier and the more we can raise for a worthy cause.

Music starts at 7:30, but get there early for a bite to eat and take advantage of happy hour (e.g. all cocktails are £3.50 between 5-7 and Wednesdays carry very special offers on all wine!)

It's all in aid of the Hanna's Orphanage charity and all profits will go towards supporting our work in Ethiopia and the educational work we do with young people in the UK. If you want to know more, visit our facebook group, website (www.hannasorphanage.org.uk) or myspace (www.myspace.com/hannasorphanage) or feel free to get in touch (maria@blueskyonline.co.uk).

Venue:
Abbey Bar
30-33 Minories
EC3N 1DD

Nearest tubes are Tower Bridge and Aldgate

For more details see www.abbey-bar.co.uk

Changes

2009-04-28T09:23:00.000-07:00

As you will have noticed, I have ‘spruced up’ the blog slightly (got to take advantage of the UK internet connection). There are a few photos, a new title, a different layout, and links to the charities I work with. I have also gone through and made a few changes – obscured names where I’d forgotten to, and reworded some things where I’d been careless.

Until about a month ago, I was under the impression that only my Dad and a few other family members read this blog and so wrote it accordingly. Rather naïve, possibly. As it turns out, quite a few people read it, and it’s about to be circulated a bit more widely, so I want to make it suitable for everyone to read.

I also want to distance the blog slightly from Hanna’s Orphanage. The content won’t change at all, but the original plan was for the blog to be just about the charity – and it’s quite clear things have deviated slightly! I share a lot of my own personal ‘journey’ on here, and it’s not right if my (not always correct) views appear to be the official views of the charity.

So there we are.

25th April, 2009

2009-04-27T14:46:00.000-07:00

Slightly unexpectedly, I’m back in the UK for a few weeks. A family member is ill, and I quickly decided to fly home to be with my family (not that I’m much use, but it makes me feel better) arriving last bank holiday Monday. All being well, I will fly back to Ethiopia next week.

Being home in the UK is always an interesting experience, primarily for the opportunity to do all the things I miss while I’m away - eat chicken fajitas, watch Have I Got News For You, see my friends, walk around without people pointing and laughing, you know the kind of thing.

I’m mostly staying with my mum, but I’ve just spent a week in London which was simultaneously thrilling and confusing. I spent the entire journey there staring out of the window with a lunatic grin on my face, despite being lumbered with a replacement bus service (the joy of weekend UK travel!) and a backpack, and once actually in London I was transfixed by all the different types of people (I know I’ve only been away 5 months but it’s honestly overwhelming!)

I had a lunch and dinner date with a different friend every day, and luckily some of them offered me beds/and or sofas for the night, complete with breakfast the next day. So in between meals I was able to wander around London and do all those things that I’ve been dreaming about during power cuts in Lalibela …

Except, at first, I couldn’t really remember what it was I wanted to do. Ridiculous, as just a month ago I wanted to be in London so badly it felt as if I could transport myself there if I continued to think about it hard enough. I would wake up imagining I was walking to the station near my old house, or going to the gym with a friend, and it would be a physical pain. But by the time I’d made the decision to come home, I’d developed a kind of resigned contentment and was scared that if I went home I’d disturb it and the feeling would disappear as quickly as it had come.

I soon got into it, though. In London I sat in parks and people watched, whizzed around on the tube, browsed for hours in shops and bookstores, and ate all kinds of wonderful food (there goes the ‘becoming size 8’ plan!). It was sooooo good to spend time with my friends, too – although there is a slight danger that some of them may disown me due to the change in some of my opinions since I left … but that’s another blog post!

So now I am trying to summon the energy to be excited about going back next week. Not that I don’t want to go back. In a lot of ways I do – there’s a lot of work stuff I still need (and want) to do, and I don’t think I’ve got everything I wanted to out of the experience - but I’m having trouble finding that excitement and inspiration I had before about living in Africa.

I then did what I always do when I’m looking to shift my mindset – read! I’ve been looking through books and articles on Africa, travelling and expat life, trying to ignite that spark again and I’ve made some progress. But the thing I’ve found really frustrating is that there is so little written by single women living an expat life in Africa (I have found some in Aisa). The majority of women’s blogs I come across are written by women who are living there with their husbands or partners, some working but the majority accompanying their husbands on their journey. Obviously there is nothing wrong with this, and I enjoy reading the blogs, but it isn’t the same when you’re on your own. You don’t have a built in support system which a spouse provides you with, for a start – and I’m sure if you’re on your own you don’t have to deal with many irritating things you may have to deal with when travelling with someone else.

Whatever, it’s different. And I really want to find writing by a woman who is doing something similar to me, also on her own. I think it would be really helpful to ‘jump start’ me!

But hey ho! I shall just try to concentrate on spending my time watching as much ‘Mock the Week’ as humanly possible, gathering books and haribo, and spending time with the people I love.

Officially an Abesha (kind of!)

2009-04-24T17:10:00.000-07:00

I am now officially an Ethiopian resident – albeit on a temporary basis – and have the fabulous laminated green ID card in my wallet to prove it!

I have spent an exciting few days going from government office to government office (with a few trips to internet cafes in between to print things out), and at one point I actually started to give various departments marks out of 10 for efficiency (Ministry of Immigration and Ministry of Agriculture scored highest, if you’re interested).

Having a residence permit is important as it allows me to keep working in Ethiopia, but it’s also going to save the NGO I work for some money as I will now pay ‘Abesha price’ not ‘faranji price’. For example, there are two different prices for things like internal flights or hotel rooms; one for visitors to the country, and one for people who live in the country. Sometimes it feels a bit like it’s ‘you’re white, pay more!’ (and sometimes it’s implemented as such) but if you think about it, it makes sense – otherwise prices would either be so cheap tourists and visitors would be paying practically nothing, or even the best paid Ethiopian would be unable to afford their own country. As I am now resident in the country (and getting an ‘allowance’ in birr) I am allowed to pay Abesha price. Hurrah!

Anyway, back to the residence permit.

When my boss came to Ethiopia, she got the information and forms from DPPC (the department who gives the NGO permission to have me!) and gave them the documents they needed (including copies of my qualifications etc). In theory, all I needed to do was complete the form and hand it in to the Ministry of Labour and Social Affairs … but nothing could ever be that easy!

First I completed the form wrong. When it said ‘work experience’ I assumed it meant work experience before I got to Ethiopia … but it turns out it actually means work experience since I’ve been in Ethiopia. Then I discover that the letters collected from the Ministry of Agriculture (or of Rural Development, or something) weren’t authorized properly.

The whole ‘important documents protocol’ is something I’ve had to get used to here. When sending letters or important papers (or applying for residence permits!) signing an application is not really important. In fact, I get funny looks of the ‘faranji’s are weird’ variety when I submit a report with my signature on in Lalibela! What’s important to ‘authenticate’ your letter is having the letter number on there (how many letters has your office sent out before this letter?) and the letter being stamped with the organisation’s official rubber stamp.

So to solve the problems this time, I went to the Agriculture office, who sent me into one of the most terrifyingly efficient and organised offices I’ve ever seen, where they stamped and scribbled on my letters (I have no idea what it says as it’s in Amharic – it could be saying ‘this woman is a pain in the arse, do not allow her to stay’ for all I know). This pleased the woman when I went back to the Ministry of Labour and I thought I’d cracked it – only to be told I wasn’t authorised to submit the application on my own behalf. The discussion went something like this:

Important Office Lady: Do you have permission to collect this documentation?
Me: Well, yes, I’m applying for the permit myself
IOL: But you need permission from your organisation to do that
Me: They’ve given me the documents, and the country representative has signed the form like it says …
IOL: You need a letter from the Project Manager to give you permission to apply
Me: (desperately) but it doesn’t say that! My Project Manager’s in Lalibela and I’m in Addis!
IOL: You need a stamped letter.
Me: Well, I have the organisation’s stamp, it’s my stamp! So if I go and write a letter giving me permission to apply for this, and stamp it, that will be okay?
IOL: Yes, that’s fine.

So I did. They accepted it and I breathed a sign of relief. Then the lady (who, I suspect, was trying not to burst into tears every time I reappeared in the office, waving yet another piece of paper …) said ‘the permit will be ready in a week’.

What? A week! Noooo! (yet another thing I should have forseen …) I begged and pleaded and explained that I was returning to Lalibela at the end of the week and needed to become a signatory on the account before going back, so I couldn’t wait a week … and God bless the lovely office lady, she said she would get it done for the next day. Possibly only so she wouldn’t have to deal with me any more.

Then came my next surprise – the little green book I was picking up? Not my residence permit at all! Instead it’s my work permit, which I had to take the Immigration Office (along with another form) and apply again for my actual residence permit. Argh!

But it’s all good. The Ministry of Immigration aspect of it was much easier than I anticipated (and they didn’t send me off to get more pictures or anything, as they had a photo booth at each one of the desk – a very good idea!), and at 5pm on my last day in Addis I finally went to pick up my residence permit.

I am obviously very pleased I have the permit as it makes travelling around much cheaper, and it means I can be a signatory on the Addis Ababa bank account, which will help the NGO … but I have to admit, the most satisfying moment was when a café tried to charge me ‘faranji price’ for a juice and A. argued, slapping the residence permit onto the table as proof of my ‘Abesha-ness’! Does that make me a bad person? Probably!

Eat, Eat, Eat!

2009-04-24T13:57:00.000-07:00

I was going to start this blog by saying that I don’t want to make generalisations about Ethiopia … but hey, I’ve been making enough sweeping generalisations just recently, that another few (positive) ones won’t hurt, so here we go ..

Ethiopians are possibly the most hospitable people I have ever met. Ever. I remember coming home from Lalibela (the first time I visited) with the overriding impression of generosity - you give someone a tip and they give half of it to the beggar sitting next to them, while people who clearly have nothing want to invite you in for tea and ply you with piles of food. Every celebration or visit is full of offers of food or drink, and I know this isn’t just because I am a ‘faranji’, it’s a default way of treating guests of any nationality.

As someone who is notoriously uncomfortable in groups and actually not that sociable, I am a rubbish hostess and sometimes find it a bit overwhelming to be the focus of so much hospitality. It can also sometimes conflict with my need for schedules – I swear, if we stopped every time someone asked us in for a drink or some dinner, it would take us more than 4 hours to do the 1 hour drive from the school!

The hospitality of the Ethiopian people is one of the reasons I am drinking so much in Lalibela, too. Home made beer called ‘talla’ is very popular here, and it’s kind of rude to say no when it’s offered – even if you’re a lightweight who doesn’t normally drink, and it’s 10.30am and you haven’t even had your breakfast. Last week there was a celebration in the local area where the school is based, and one of the students brought me two litres of talla. I accepted it with thanks, but if I’d actually drunk it, Abiy and Aman would have had to carry me up to my house!

However, the hospitality and generosity shown is one of the things I love about Ethiopia, and one of the things I think makes it such a joy to spend time in the country. Personally, I experience it every time I come to Addis and I stay with E and M, where they treat me like the most valued guest on earth.

The hospitality gene does seems to increase after childbirth - since having her baby, E has developed an obsession with feeding people. I come to her house and the conversation goes something like this:

E: Have some lunch
J: Oh, it’s okay, thank you, I had lunch already
E: Just a little bit …
J: Honestly, I’m fine, I’m full
E: Well maybe have a banana
J: Okay, I’ll have a banana
E: And maybe a mango?
J: No, no, honestly, I’ll just have a banana …

She’s turning into a feeder!

But in general, my hostess and hospitality skills are a disgrace compared to those of the people I live and work with – I never have nice food to offer my guests, and I would prefer all visitors arrive after CSI on a Monday evening. I’m hoping I might gain the ‘hospitality gene’ through osmosis …

Thoughts and Prayers

2009-04-11T11:42:00.000-07:00

Two of the children from the orphanage are very sick, and although they are on the mend, they are still in hospital. Please send your prayers, or good thoughts, or best wishes (or whatever you do!) to the children, and to everyone else at the orphanage who are very worried about them.

Also, one of our trustees has also just had some serious surgery and, although she is on the mend, she could do with some good wishes and prayers, too.

Thank you!

2nd April 2009

2009-04-02T01:31:00.000-07:00

This weekend, a nice Ethiopian living in America emailed me to say that the blog I’d written about the mentally ill man who came into the office has been cut and pasted and put on an Ethiopian website which is considered political (I don’t know, I can’t log on to it from Ethiopia – which suggests it may be!).

They didn’t ask my permission or tell me it was being used (although as it’s on the internet already, and I don’t have anything saying ‘do not use this without permission’ presumably I don’t have a leg to stand on?!). If they had asked, I would have refused. Not because I have a problem with anyone commenting on my writing (people are free to comment here) but because I work for a politically neutral NGO, and my writing being put on a website such as this may compromise them and their work (although the NGO Directors have seen the original blog). And I don’t want that.

This blog is entirely my own experience and thoughts; mistakes, banalities and opinions included (I write about dead rats in my wardrobe for heavens sake!), and that particular blog was written directly after the experience, when I was still shocked and upset. It didn’t occur to me that someone may cut and paste the blog into their own websites! If I’d known, I would have toned down the sweeping generalisations and given it some context and background!

Ah well. And there was I thinking only my dad read this blog!

Thank you

2009-04-02T01:30:00.001-07:00

To …

Mum and David – for doing everything from answering emails, sending tax forms, booking flights, buying ink cartridges, sending new underwear (and chocolate!) and calling often

Anthony – for posting blogs

Danyele – for posting photos

Patrick – for doing whizzy things with websites at two minutes notice

Nicola – for sending magazines and newspapers, and the offer of her sofa

Lisa – for sending parcels of wonderful goodies!

Paul – for always being at the end of an email

Maria – for inspiration and listening

Ute – for letters and emails … and for ‘getting it’

The Hanna’s Orphanage team – for doing all the hard work back home

The Tavern – for company at any time of the day or night!

Amie – for coming and visiting me in Lalibela!!

Karis and Nicole – for answering SOS distress calls.

Sirgut – for the support and understanding

Dad – for religiously reading my blog!

The New Statesman and Telegraph weekly for keeping me sane … and the Ethiopian postal service for delivering them.

And everyone else for the love and support they send!

I don’t always remember to thank people enough, so here it is. I am eternally grateful!

Farewell to an old friend

2009-04-02T01:28:00.001-07:00

I didn’t really know what to write for this blog. Things are trundling along here – one day follows another, one power cut follows another, one meal of pasta follows another. Nothing new.

And then I remembered the rat.

For the week before I went to Addis, I was putting down the rat poison mum had sent me and attempting to rid my house of George, the rat, and Rita, Sue and Bob, the mice. It seemed to work, as the number of mice I saw scuttling around was greatly reduced, and no mouse came to help me cook. Hurrah!

However, even though he was eating the poison I was putting down, I could still hear George gnawing away in the top of my wardrobe at night. The noise continued to keep me awake, and although I called ‘die, damn you’ every time I heard him, he still didn’t (die, that is). But then I went to Addis for a week and a half and didn’t think anything more of it.

When I came back, I put all my stuff in the living room and, with A. and Ab., did a quick sniff-check around the house. Everywhere was okay except my bedroom – oh my goodness, the smell! It was a terrible, terrible smell … even worse than my old socks which, as my family will tell you, is fairly bad.

Ab. conveniently had somewhere to be, which left A. and I to brave the stink and look for the dead rat which we guessed had expired somewhere in my wardrobe.

Luckily the clothes in my wardrobe were free of rat corpse, but as A. started to take out all of the stuff (which belongs to someone else) from the top cupboard, the smell got stronger and eventually, a furry mass was indeed discovered. There was a lot of girly shrieking from both me and A., particularly when we saw that the rat was crawling with maggots!

So we did what we always do in a crisis – call H., the guard’s son. He came and scooped the rat up in a piece of paper and took it to its final resting place; the rubbish heap behind A.’s house. Meanwhile, A. and I started to scoop maggots out of the wardrobe with a dustpan and brush.

We were a pretty picture – standing on chairs, rubber gloves on, trying not to drop wriggling maggots on the floor, and carrying them outside at arms length.

But the good news is, George is finally dead, and I don’t have any more mice in my house! Woo hoo!

13th March 2009

2009-03-13T13:06:00.000-07:00

I’m in Addis now, and catching up with the orphanage. Hanna is at the prisoners’ children’s house in Harar, so she is not in Addis, but D, the new communications man, is there.

First of all, we dropped off two and a half sacks full of baby clothes, donated by LEAP, the NGO I work for. We also gave them some ‘Where’s Wally’ books to go in the little one’s room, and maps of the continents to be hung on the walls of the classrooms (these were all bought with money you’ve raised through Hanna’s Orphanage).

Ab and I visited the Shiro Meda children as well, bearing gifts of bananas (in a rare deviation from my ‘Bringing E-Numbers to Ethiopia’ project). I have to confess that seeing the kids all run to the door calling ‘Jenny, Jenny, Jenny!’ and being genuinely glad to see me, makes me so happy. Yeah, okay, so there’s an element of ego stroking, but it at least it means I know that they do remember me and I’m making them happy!

Ab and I got roped into playing a game of football with the kids. I tell you, some of these children are demons with a football – girls as well as boys! However, for many of them, competitive games are a trigger for any residual anger issues they are dealing with. One of the boys was annoyed that his team were losing and, in an effort to keep back the tears, got angry. Ab called him over and had a little chat with him, and then watched the rest of the football game together, Ab’s arms around his shoulders.

Watching them made me realise how much many of these children need normal physical affection – especially the boys. Physical affection between men is easy in Ethiopia – close friends walk around hand in hand, or with their arms around each other – and many of these children, particularly the ones who have lived on the streets, or with grudging relatives who have refused to send them to school, simply haven’t experienced the platonic affection and attention. Of course, this need makes them quite vulnerable to being taken advantage of, but in a safe, nurturing environment such as the orphanage, it’s an important aspect of their care.

Of course we have to make sure the children are safe from anyone who does want to take advantage of them, and that’s obviously Hanna Orphans Home’s priorities. While we were at the Shiro Meda site, an Ethiopian man came in and said hello to everyone, and then went into the main living room of the house and chatted to some of the children in there. Curious, I asked the children’s tutor (who was playing football with us) who he was.

“He’s the father of those two boys,” he said, pointing out two children enthusiastically chatting to the visitor.

I thought I’d heard wrong. A while ago, this man was convicted of abusing his daughter (the boy’s sister) and imprisoned, hence the fact the children were assigned to the orphanage. The girl is obviously traumatised by the experience, and has moved to the main site of the orphanage to be able to spend time with girls who have been through similar experiences and to be able to access the psychological help she needs.

I asked the tutor shouldn’t the man be in prison? Did Hanna know he was here?

The tutor shrugged (hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil?) but confirmed that Hanna knew he was here. Still, once we left, I called her just to check. Apparently – and this is just speculation – this man managed to bribe whoever he needed to be released from prison very early, and now wants to see his sons. Hanna has agreed to let him see the boys but obviously refuses to allow him to see his daughter.

As for me, I plan to keep away from the man. It’s Hanna’s decision to let him see his sons – and there was never any suggestion he abused them – but I don’t particularly want to make small talk with the man. Or even be civil to him, quite frankly.

Tomorrow, I will continue to learn more about the children in the orphanage as I am going to work on recording their stories and histories. T, the psychology student, and I are nowhere near finishing, but we’re working through them slowly. It’s important to get them done, so every time I’m in Addis I will spend some time doing them.

And I’m sure I’ll end up back at Shiro Meda again for another game of (badly played on my part) football!

Let’s talk about toilets!

2009-03-12T01:54:00.001-07:00

Seriously, the toilet perils of travelling don’t get talked about enough – maybe because so many of the Africa travelogues I’ve read are written by men and, I don’t care what anyone says about gender equality, men simply don’t have the same issues when it comes to toilets. They can generally whip it out and pee anywhere (and they do… every time I turn a corner there’s an Ethiopian man peeing up a fence or a lamppost or on a parked car) but for women it’s not so easy.

For a start, sometimes a toilet, however rudimentary, doesn’t actually exist. At our school there are no toilet facilities (they are being built) and very little cover to enable you to pee behind a tree. Consequently, if I’m at the school from early morning until the evening I have to either drive back to the town to pee (which makes me feel utterly ridiculous) or just hold it. So I try and plan to only stay for a few hours at a time, and ration the amount I drink (not so easy when it’s really hot!).

So wherever you’re going and whatever you’re doing, you try and make sure there are toilets. The first time my three male colleagues and I were going to drive from Lalibela to Addis, I made sure I said to Ab, the driver, ‘look, you guys are men, you can pee anywhere, but we have to make sure we find me a proper toilet sometimes’.

I don’t mean I have to have a western style toilet, I’m quite happy with a hole in the ground – in fact, sometimes these can be a more pleasant experience. Toilet wise, I have done things I never would have done in the UK. I have peed while a goats watched, peed in a group, behind a tree (okay, I’ve done that one before!), in the most disgusting and smelly shed, and – most memorably – I have peed in a hat (don’t ask. Really, don’t ask).

I’m not asking for 5 star toilet facilities, I’m relatively unfussy. The one thing I do ask for is some kind of privacy – it amazes me that in most of Ethiopia they don’t feel that a door is an essential part of the toilet experience. I really do. In one café where we stopped for breakfast, people eating had a perfect (I’m talking cinema-scope) view of anyone using the toilet as there was no door. Of course, this is fine for men, but for women it’s not ideal. Can you imagine what would have happened if I’d used the toilet? A faranji? I suspect they would have been talking about it for days.

Even when there is a toilet door, it’s rare that the door closes properly. A newly built, beautiful hotel in Lalibela has toilet doors that have to be held shut whilst you are peeing, which requires quite a lot of balance and freakishly long arms. Worse than that, the toilet doors are half glass! Half glass!! What’s that all about? Yes, it’s ‘smoked glass’ so you can’t see detail, but you can still see the shape of someone sitting on the toilet, and quite frankly, that’s not a silhouette I want anyone to see.

Once you’ve worried about showing your big (well, in my case) white bottom to the watching world, you need to worry about quite where you’re putting that bottom. Toilets in Ethiopia run the full gauntlet from ‘nice’ right down to ‘oh my God, that’s disgusting’, but it’s amazing what you can ignore when needed. I have peed (and worse) in the smelliest and most repulsive excuses for toilets I have ever seen. I can’t understand why they just don’t clean them, especially when they’re in hotels and restaurants. When I was in the South of Ethiopia, there was a particularly revolting toilet in a hotel (I’d name and shame, but I can’t remember exactly what it was called). The floor was covered with something that definitely wasn’t mud and as I gingerly tiptoed my way through it, I dropped my wrap. Argh! I could have cried. In fact, I was ready to throw it in the bin – it’s bad enough having to deal with horrible toilets, let alone carry the contents around on your clothes – but luckily there was a big sink outside and a lovely woman who managed to clean it in minutes.

So, cleanliness is not always a given, and you don’t get much privacy, even in the 3 star hotels. You don’t always get toilet paper either. When you first travel in Ethiopia this comes a bit of a surprise and you get caught short sometimes, but soon you get used to it and you learn to steal any toilet paper you come across, stockpiling it in your bag for future emergencies.

Of course, all these issues triple their impact when you start factoring in dodgy stomachs or periods - I know, I know, but nobody talks about this stuff, and it’s an important consideration. How can I go and work at the school when I might need a toilet at a moments notice, and just popping behind a tree won’t cut it? When you’re doing a 9 hour drive and the only place to pee is behind a tree – it’s not the best feeling in the world when you are fighting a heavy period. And if you’re travelling with someone, well, let’s just say that amoebic dysentery really deepens the intimacy between you. That or it ensures that you never speak again after the trip has finished.

So there are definitely lessons to be learnt from this. When travelling in Ethiopia: be prepared for some variations in toilet standards; build up those thigh muscles for the squatting you will have to do; invest in some kind of stick to hold doors closed when you need to; and always, always, always carry your own toilet paper.

3rd March, 2009

2009-03-06T00:16:00.000-08:00

I have a slightly strange sense of humour, and it’s the little things that make me laugh. Obviously, doing a blog about these things is foolish, as I’m sure that none of these make you laugh, and you’ll go away thinking I’m an idiot. But I’m doing it anyway!

A lot of the time, the things that make me laugh are those that happen with the children or at the school, but last week it happened on the way there, when Ab and I stopped to pick up an elderly woman. She was walking barefoot in the hot sun, a bag of tef (which you use to make injera) strapped to her back, and was very grateful when we stopped to pick her up.

She climbed into the trailer of our car where a few other people were hitching a lift, and Ab continued driving. A few minutes later, I noticed him looked worriedly at his wing mirrors. I asked what was wrong.

“Where’s the lady?” he said.

Things are always falling off of the back of the car when we’re driving (though generally not people) and we were worried that we had gone over a bump too fast and she had fallen off (this is proper off road driving!). Ab got out of the car and went to check – and returned laughing. The woman had curled up on her bag of tef and was sound asleep! When he’d woken her up, concerned she was sick, she waved him away and told him it was better this way. No idea what she meant, but we were just glad she hadn’t rolled off the back …

More often than not, the things that make me laugh are to do with language and the fact we spend most of our time stumbling through the English or Amharic we know in an effort to get the other person to understand. Like yesterday, when I asked Ab why he was staring at a middle aged faranji man in a pair of distinctive blue cargo trousers, and he said, pointing to his own blue cargo trousers, ‘I’m watching my trousers’.

Or today, when we were on our way back from the school. As., the foreman, refused my offer of fasting biscuits and clutched his stomach, saying it was feeling ‘stagnant’. After a bit of a conversation trying to work out how a stomach could be stagnant, he explained it was more an uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

“My heart doesn’t work.”
“There’s a problem with your heart?”
“Yes, it has stopped.”
“Your heart has stopped? That means you’re dead!”
He nodded solemnly. “Yes, I think so!”

Cue an afternoon of comments in the office (not all from me!) about not signing the attendance sheet if you’re dead, and explaining there was no cement bought ‘because As. is dead today’. Well, it made us laugh!

But the thing that made me smile most today was when A. came back into the office after lunch and hissed at me:

“There’s meat in Lalibela!”

What? At first I thought he’d said ‘there’s a meeting in Lalibela’, and my heart sank. Great, another two day fiasco where nothing even gets decided. But then he hissed again and I realised he was talking about meat.

“Really? There’s meat?” Ethiopia is in the two months fasting period required by the Orthodox church, and meat in Lalibela is banned. People have been beaten up for killing an animal here during fasting time (I’m not kidding). Who’s got meat? And will they sell me some?!

A. explained that the woman who runs the butcher’s shop that I normally get my meat from (think a dingy concrete shed, with skinned cows hanging from the roof) is selling illicit meat from her home. Fantastic! I asked him if his girlfriend could buy me some.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll go together tomorrow. I’ll call and get some ready.”

I feel like I’m ordering drugs! I’m half expecting the woman to be selling it on a street corner like they do in The Wire – or Brixton, for that matter. (Of course, this would be slightly more likely if Lalibela actually HAD streets). So tomorrow, in the dark of the evening, A. and I will go to buy meat from some dodgy backstreet, and smuggle it back to the house under our jackets.

See, I told you it wouldn’t make you laugh.

1st March 2009

2009-03-01T14:21:00.000-08:00

I’m sitting in my living room, on my sofa, watching the thunder and lightning over the mountains. A mouse is making a racket in the kitchen (haven’t got rid of them all yet!) and the television has no reception, but there’s still electricity, at least at the moment.

This time of year is called the ‘little rains’ which makes me smile as there’s nothing ‘little’ about rain in Ethiopia! I’m sure I’ve written about it before, but African rain is not delicate – it literally throws itself from the sky to the ground. If you’re out in it, you’re soaked to the skin within seconds, but if you’re nice and warm with a cup of tea, it’s an amazing sight. In Lalibela you can see the rain coming about an hour before it arrives – huge clouds gather over the far mountains, and last night I could see rain pouring from the sky, backlit by the setting sun. It’s an awesome sight.

The funny thing is, when it stops raining, Lalibela smells like England – particularly the England I remember when growing up in East Anglia or living in London; wet mud and grass, and a kind of clean, fresh smell. It creates quite a weird juxtaposition, when the world around me smells like England yet I’m surrounded by goats and Priests wrapped in white gabis, with woodsmoke drifting over the mud huts.

There have been a few of those moments in Ethiopia – one earlier this week, when a Scottish couple came to visit the school, and brought bagpipes. None of the children have ever seen bagpipes before, but then neither have any of the project staff, teachers or local government. The children were excused from lessons for ten minutes and came and sat on the stones under the big tree, while J started playing. The children stared at him, goggle eyed, as he managed to beat the altitude-induced breathlessness and play various Scottish standards. I normally hate the sound of the bagpipes, but this was really good!

Within a few minutes, drawn by the sound, some of the local kebele (like council) officers had come over the hills and the workers had stopped building. All stood watching, amazed.

It was a very surreal moment. I’m stood in this hot, arid landscape, with lots of Ethiopian children sitting on rocks, and goats, donkeys and cows wandering around, while a Scottish man plays the ‘Highland fling’ on the bagpipes. Incredibly bizarre.

But just another day …

27th February 2009

2009-03-01T14:18:00.000-08:00

I just made the best ‘chicken fajitas potatoes’ in the world. I know they are the best in the world because I’m the first person to make them. They say necessity is the mother of invention, and I’m starting to run out of ideas for eating at home.

Basically, for the next two months I am vegetarian. All Ethiopian Orthodox Christians fast for the two months leading up to Easter, which means no animal products at all – no meat, no dairy etc. In Addis it doesn’t make that much of a difference, there are all kinds of religions there and not everybody fasts, but I’m in Lalibela, one of the holiest Orthodox Christian sites in Ethiopia, and you can’t even buy meat for the two months.

So I am eating a lot of pasta and tuna fish, and a lot of shiro (a kind of chickpea sauce) and injera. Oh, and carrots. Then when I found some potatoes at the market, I needed some inspiration – which is where my packet of chicken fajita spices came in …

Tomorrow will be ‘Chilli Con Carne Potatoes’ and then after that I will be serving ‘Cheese and Bacon Pasta Potatoes’ … just think, the possibilities are endless!

Ps. On a slightly connected note, ‘Hip Hop’ biscuits have appeared on sale in Lalibela. There are two flavours here, orange and strawberry, but only the orange are ‘fasting biscuits’. Does this mean the strawberry ones contain meat? The mind boggles!

26th February, 2009

2009-02-26T15:51:00.001-08:00

I appear to be suffering from some kind of ‘culture shock’ (a phrase which I hate) that has caused in me a pathological hatred of all things Ethiopian. This is stupid, obviously, and I’m sure it will pass, but it has caused my recent blogs to be a little bit harsh.

Despite feeling a lot of frustration - and sometimes needing a good cry - I’m not depressed, and I’m lucky because no matter how hopeless I’m feeling, working with the children makes me feel much better!

The Water Project is going well, with the children getting more and more confident. My friend, A., also visited Lalibela and stayed for a week, running dance workshops for each class (with me, A. and the teachers joining in!). We based the lesson on The Lion King, so we learnt about all the different kinds of animals in Africa (and the English words for them!) before moving on to talking about the different movements those animals make, and eventually making it into a dance. It was fantastic fun, but the most exciting thing for me was that every single child got involved – even the shyest girls who were, the week before, hiding their face with their arms every time anyone spoke to them, threw themselves into being crocodiles and elephants!

It was also the most exhausting 4 hours I have spent for a while! Although I have done a few mountain hikes since I’ve been here, and walking up the steps to my house is knackering, I tend to go everywhere by car and so I don’t get the amount of exercise I used to in Addis. I do have my yoga mat with me but, well, it’s still in the suitcase it arrived in Lalibela in, which tells you how much yoga I’ve done since I’ve been here!

So spending 4 hours dancing to ‘I Just Can’t Wait to be King’ with groups of excited children knocked us all out. We’d brought water with us – an essential thing in the desert-like surroundings of the school – but it wasn’t nearly enough and by the time the car pulled into the town, A and I were nearly climbing out of the windows in our desperation to get water. However, after a fresh mango juice and a couple of gallons of mineral water we were rehydrated.

The children all fell in love with A – as did most of the project staff, to be honest! – and it’s always good for them to meet other faranjis and see them as nothing to be scared of. All of the sessions we do with the students will be turned into proper lesson plans, resources and schemes of work, so that the teacher can use them when they want and the input is sustainable. I will also run the workshops in Addis, at the orphanage.

I do love people coming to visit – 1, because generally they bring me chocolate and English newspapers, and 2, because I get to show them one of the most beautiful places in the world, but it is great for both the school and the orphanage when people can come and work with the children. You don’t have to be a teacher to spend time playing football or doing art work with them, and it is such a valuable experience for them.

I’m looking for people to run summer schools in Lalibela (and at the orphanage) – let me know if you can get yourself to Ethiopia!

An incident in the office

2009-02-21T04:42:00.001-08:00

This afternoon I was catching up on some work in the office, when I was distracted by a man dressed in white rushing past the window, closely followed by H, the guard's son. I thought he was coming into the office, but when he didn't, I didn't think anything of it and simply carried on with my work.

A few minutes later he did come into the office - a tall Ethiopian man wrapped in a gabi, wearing a hat, and carrying a 'cow tail' stick which people swish around to get rid of the flies. He came over, shook my hand and said a lot of things to me in Amharic, while H sniggered behind him. I'm used to random people coming up andspeaking to me as if I am fluent in Amharic, so I went along with it, shaking his hand, saying hello etc. A totally normal part of my day!

Then he grabbed me and tried to pull me out of my chair, which is not so normal. I managed to rip my tee shirt out of his grip, and I pushed him away, more shocked that anything, while H tried to guide him out of the office, telling me he's got mental health problems (I believe the phrase was 'he's crazy'). Okay, I can deal with mental health stuff, no problem. So when he refused to leave the office and instead sat down at the desk opposite me, chattering all the while, I just got on with my work and left H to deal with him.

Then he started to grab things - my bottle of water, my roll of tissue paper, and then my bag …

This is when it started getting a little silly. H was holding my bag, stopping him from running off with it, and the man had stuck the bottle of water between his legs so we couldn't get it (well, we could, but this man has thighs like a vice!). Hafte had stopped him running off with my bag, but the man was now refusing to leave the office, just sitting at the desk causing as much havoc as he could considering H was pinning him to the chair.

Now, this was a bit of an inconvenience for me, in the sense that I wanted to get on with my work and the mad man sitting opposite me wasn't helping, but I didn't fear for my life or my things. He'd hurt me a bit when he grabbed me, but I guessed H would stop him from disappearing with all my stuff, and other than that he was just annoying. I managed to move my laptop out of his reach and take my passport, money and phone out of my bag, though, just in case.

However, he didn't leave (with or without my bag) and he started to get more and more aggressive, throwing a punch at H and screaming about 'faranjis' - I didn't ask for translation. So I went to get some help from my project manager's house, thinking a few men would be able to lift him out of the office. Unfortunately, only H, his girlfriend was there. She went to get the police, while a merry band of people gathered around my office - the female teachers from our school, who had just come back from market, Y, the woman who bakes injera for me, and a little girl who simply appeared from nowhere.

A little while later, as H continued to hold this man and stop him from stealing my things, one of A's friends arrived, closely followed by a policeman. Okay, I thought, they'll get him out. I mean, all they have to do is lift him out of the office - there are two of them and one of him, right?

I moved out of the way, while the policeman asked the man to move out of the office. He obviously didn't particularly want to go, and a few minutes later I saw him thrown out of the office by the two of them. I thought it was over, then the policeman smacked him round the head and pushed him so hard he fell to the floor. In a split second before it happened, I saw what was coming - the policeman kicked the man, hard, in the head. Then he did it again. I cried out - the man was out of the office, he was lying on the floor, he wasn't doing anything. Stop it!

Nobody else thought this was a problem. They all stood there and watched as the policeman kicked and beat the man who was lying on the floor, posing no threat to anyone. I tried to stop the policeman myself, but A's friend pulled me back, telling me to leave it. The policeman took two seconds to tell me 'it's no problem', then pulled the man to his feet and started to push him down the stone stairs.

What could I do? I didn't want the man hurt, I just wanted him out of the office and to stop trying to hurt me and H, or trying to take my stuff. The man is sick, not bad. Instead, I stood by, helpless (apart from the noise I made), while he was beaten and then dragged off to a prison, where he is likely to be beaten again.

As everyone stood around, totally unconcerned, telling me 'it's normal in Ethiopia' and 'it's no problem', I shut myself in my office and sobbed.

It's not seeing the physical violence that upsets me; I've seen dead children lying in the road in Addis, and I was there as a man drowned in front of his devastated daughter in Blackpool. What really affects me is the casual cruelty that Ethiopians are capable of inflicting on anyone who doesn't conform.

It's not the first time I've seen this here. I now refuse to go to John Café in Lalibela (which is a considerable sacrifice considering the size of this town!) after I saw the way the owner treated another mentally disabled man. My loud protests stopped her from hitting him in this instance, but she humiliated and treated him worse than a dog,and I refuse to give my money to someone who does that.

Objectively, these are isolated instances where two people have been cruel and violent towards someone they see is worth less than them. It's not unusual in any country. The thing that distresses me, though, is how 'mainstream' this attitude is. This afternoon, educated people who would tell you that they believe everyone is equal, and human rights apply to all, stood around and watched as a policeman kicked a man in the head simply for being mentally ill - and more than that, thought it was the right thing to do. In the café, a crowd of people which included the town's bank manager and members of local government, sat around and laughed at the spectacle. All of these people call themselves committed Christians. Didn't Jesus say 'what you do to the least of my people, you do to me'?

'He's not normal' is often offered by way of explanation. Anyone who is different is not considered a human being and not worthy of the protection everyone else expects. To be honest, it's not usual here to argue against a policeman - I can get away with it, because they know I'm protected by my British Passport in ways the average Ethiopian is not. But even after the policeman had gone, my tears were seen as something bewildering. He's not normal, you see, the policeman did what anyone would have done.

I know I am tired, shocked and hormonal, but it is afternoons like these that make me want to pack up and head home. Why on earth should I have given up all my home comforts, my friends, my life and my job to come and help people who treat others this way?

2nd February 2009

2009-02-16T10:17:00.000-08:00

I started working with the students at the school today, with Session 1 of the Water Project. The Water Project is an educational project in partnership with Groundwork, a sustainability charity based in the UK. Children in the UK and children at my school in Lalibela will learn about water, and make art work to represent the role it plays in their life. They will then share their ideas and artwork, including exchanging photos they have taken of water and their school and home.

Session 1 for my children was learning about England. These children genuinely have no concept of a world outside their village – only one child out of the 100 I worked with knew that Addis Ababa was their capital city – so they have no idea what England is like. Consequently there were many answers that made both me and Ab, my colleague who was translating, laugh out loud. Here are a few:

Me: Are people who live in England Abesha or Faranji?
Student: Faranji
Me: And what colour is Faranji's skin?
Student: K'ai (red)
Me: (thinking about my sunburnt skin!) Yes, yes, I know my skin is red, but normally what colour is Faranji's skin …

Me: What do people eat in England?
Girl: Um … biscuits … manaman, manaman, manaman (whatever, whatever, whatever)

Me: What's in this picture?
Student: A tree
Jenny: Exactly. And what's on the tree? (pointing to the snow covering the branches)
Student: Clouds!

Me: (pointing to Ethiopia and England on the map) So we know Ethiopia is here and England is here – if I want to go home, how can I get there? Can I walk?
Boy: If you're fit, you can.

Bless their hearts!

These children that I'm working with are very, very different to those at the orphanage, not just in situation but in attitude and knowledge. Both groups of children are – by our standards anyway – poor, but the children in the orphanage are much more wordly wise. Partly, I guess, because of the things they've been through (which I wouldn't wish on any child) and because they are living in a fairly diverse capital city. They live in close proximity with a lot of other children from different races, religions and family situations, so they learn to accept everybody. The children at the school live in the tiny community they were born in, have barely any contact without anyone outside their village, and certainly never mix with anyone from a different race or religion in any meaningful way. This is shown in the bewildered looks on their face when I ask them where Ethiopia is on a map, in the girls who hide their face when anyone asks them a question, or in the confusion when they try to understand that there are children in England, and that they go to school just like them.

I'm hoping the Water Project will be the beginning of the children realising there is a whole world out there that they can learn about – and ultimately, be part of.

Orphanage update and staffing changes

2009-02-16T10:13:00.000-08:00

Blogging has been difficult just recently as the internet and electricity have been temperamental (as usual ….) and I've been busy – my boss was here, then I was in Bahir Dar for work, now my friend A is here. However, I want to update you on the orphanage and the changes that have been happening there.

I went to Addis in January and was really pleased to see Hanna back from America, where she had been speaking to the American charity that supports them (the American equivalent of us, really!). I have said before, Hanna is the driving force behind the orphanage, and when she is away, something changes. We are looking for ways for us to work with this, and to ensure the sustainability of the orphanage, and our vision for this involves training staff and working on building capacity. So Hanna and I have discussed how we can help – starting with paying for computer training and project management/planning training for staff, if wanted. I know it can seem like the money we raise could be better spent directly on clothes or toys for the children, but training staff ensures that the orphanage continues to be a safe, happy and effective place to bring up children, and that the money we raise is used effectively, not wasted through bad management and planning.

Some staff changes have already taken place. S, the project officer, who was in charge of communications with donors and project planning, has left the orphanage and D has taken his place. As much as S and I drove one another crazy, I respect his devotion to the orphanage and will miss him being there.

One of the men from one of the branches of the orphanage has also left – and in slightly less benign circumstances. This man had actually become a particular worry of mine. He encouraged the children to pray for hours, and the Religious Education he provided seemed incredibly intense, something that even my very Religious Ethiopian friends found slightly worrying. He also made a point of telling me that unless I was religious, I should not be helping the children – praying to God is the most important thing. I pointed out that although praying is important, God works through actions and people (pray to catch the bus, then run as fast as you can!). Anyway, my religious beliefs need not concern him – all he needs to know is I love these children and will move mountains to help them.

Before I managed to speak to Hanna about any of this, she discovered that this man was in a dubious relationship with one of the staff at the same orphanage site. Hanna dealt with this with great dignity and professionalism, and he has now been asked to leave. The children there have all been spoken to, and luckily he never mistreated them or harmed them in any way. At the moment, he has not been replaced –instead, staff from the Wollo Seffer branch take it in turns to visit, making sure someone is there every day.

So there have been many staff changes, and I think the focus this year (for us at Hanna's Orphanage) will be on helping to strengthen the administration and organisational systems, to make sure the orphanage works in the best way it can!

28th January 2009

2009-02-12T01:37:00.001-08:00

I've been in Lalibela for over 2 months now, and I think I've finally started to get to grips with my job. My boss has been in Ethiopia for a while, which has been an exhausting but invigorating experience. As I've said before, things work really slowly in Ethiopia and Lalibela is an extreme example of this – there are a lot of dubious working practices, inefficiency and truly inadequate infrastructure, not to mention the fact that no department speaks to one another, so you often receive contradictory orders or instructions. I'm lucky I have a very good project manager to work with, but I still sometimes feel like it must be me who's mad, as nobody else seems to think this way of working is a problem. Having S, my boss, spend time with us reminded me that actually the things I'm proposing make perfect sense, and I'm not the only one in the world who wants to cry every time someone announces a 2 day meeting (yes, two days. People sleep and the meeting still continues!).

Although S is Ethiopian, she has lived in England for a long while, and is very definitely faranji on the inside! When she's around, things get done – government departments print letters in 10 minutes that would normally take days, buildings spring up fully formed and obstacles melt away. It's a refreshing – if slightly startling – experience!

One of the really satisfying things was talking with her about the way forward with the teachers and the school. The teachers are lovely, and I was pleasantly surprised with standard of teaching compared to a lot I have seen in Addis Ababa. However, the teaching is almost entirely of the 'chalk and talk' variety, and there is very little student participation – and although I am not a traditional teacher, student participation is definitely something I can help with. So I am effectively the 'alternative education and student voice' consultant, something which I am enjoying very much.

Next week I start working with both the teachers and the students. I have no idea what kind of reception I'm going to get, but I'm looking forward to finding out!

More of my musing...

2009-02-12T01:36:00.001-08:00

All things considered, I've always thought Ethiopia ranks reasonably well for the position of women in society. I don't have all the statistics or information, and I would never presume to speak for Ethiopian women so this is my own personal opinion, but women can work, they don't have to cover themselves and at first glance, they are treated very respectfully.

But look a bit closer and the traditional roles and restrictions are still there. For instance, men don't cook in Ethiopia – and it's definitely not for lack of skill! I know many Ethiopian men in the UK who are fabulous cooks, much better than me! Admittedly, most middle class Ethiopians here have housemaids to prepare food, but still it is all down to the women – the men come home expecting their meals on the table.

As a white women, I escape a lot of the expectations of an Ethiopian woman (although obviously I have my own hassles such as small children following me down the road calling 'you, you, you, you, you' incessantly). However, it was only recently that an Ethiopian explained that the reason I often wait aaaaggggees for someone to serve me in a café is not that Ethiopian service is slow (far from it, in fact!) but that as a woman on my own, I must be waiting for a man, so I can't possibly be ready to order yet!

When you drive around, you do notice that the cafés and restaurants are full of men, even in the middle of the morning. When I mentioned this to D, my cab driver, he said that it was changing slowly, but that still most women stayed in the house. The house is for women and the outside is for men!

He's right, though, things are changing – albeit slowly. There are lots of twenty-something Ethiopians who have studied or lived in Europe or America, and have returned with different ideas about women and their place in the world. Previously, an Ethiopian women would never have gone to a bar unless she was a prostitute, and although bars are still full of prostitutes or 'bar girls', you now see groups of women going to clubs or having a drink together which is apparently something you did not see as recently as 8 years ago.

I still get jealous of male travellers, though, who can easily do things that are difficult for me, purely because they are men. For instance, when N was here, D took us both to have some lunch at a tiny café on Ethio-China Road. It was barely a café, just a set of benches in an alley way, but the food was fantastic and very cheap. However, the place was full of Ethiopian men who spent their lunch staring at us, and both N and I acknowledged that we would not have felt comfortable coming in here on our own. A man, though, probably would have had no problem.

It was a similar situation when Ute and I went to Harlem Jazz one Saturday night. Although it's a jazz club, on a Saturday night it has a fantastic reggae band from Shashmene playing. I really wanted to dance, so we decided we would go for a drink, then head to the club.

The minute we arrived, we were surrounded by Ethiopian men. We weren't the only faranji's in there, but we were the only women there on our own, and we were considered easy pickings. Okay, so it's not unlike going out in London (well, for some people … I don't generally have to bat away male attention!) but at least in the UK men generally take no for an answer, and they certainly don't attempt to grope you before even speaking to you! One man came and sat with us, and I had to move his hand from my upper thigh THREE TIMES before I finally had to tell him to go away.

Going on the dance floor had the same problem. There was a white guy in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by Ethiopians, really getting into the music and properly dancing. That's what I wanted to do, but the minute I moved from the edge of the room, I was pushing away groping hands and fighting to be allowed to dance on my own, without some Ethiopian man grinding behind me. It was exhausting.

The men I spoke to saw no problem with their actions – we were girls having a drink in a club on our own (never mind we were only drinking coke!), which meant we were 'available', not to mention the fact that we were white so therefore they consider us much easier to get than Ethiopian women. This situation is exacerbated by the fact that many faranji's do indeed come to Ethiopia and have a fling with a local – some men even leaving local girls with a baby as a leaving present …

I wasn't dressed provocatively (I had jeans on!), I wasn't drinking alcohol and I wasn't trying to pick anybody up. I simply wanted to dance and enjoy the music. However, my evening was completely different to the experience of the white guy dancing in the middle of the floor, purely because of my gender. And that makes me frustrated!

11th January 2009 - Part 2

2009-01-29T08:21:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, when you live in a different country, you find yourself doing things you wouldn't even think of doing when you are at home -eating parts of an animal you've never even considered, following strangers down backstreets in an attempt to find the 'real' city, going to the toilet in what appears to be a corrugated iron sewer. Similarly, you often find yourself being friends with people you wouldn't even consider if you were at home in your normal life.

Being away from friends and family and living submerged in an unfamiliar culture for an extended period means you often cling to any reminder of your home country - meaning you end up desperately trying to force a friendship with a woman three times your age whose only interest is stamp collecting, or agreeing to a sixth date with the most boring man in the world because it's better than watching re-runs of Oprah every evening.

I was really lucky that in Addis I met Ute - someone I would have chosen for a friend in any country, but someone who I probably would never have crossed paths with if it hadn't been for Ethiopia - and I met others who I was very glad to be friends with. I also have a dear 'adopted family' in Addis who I love very much and am very, very glad they are in my life.

But there are many other people who I have spent an inordinate amount of time with - and sometimes still do - who I just know I would not be interested in if I were back home. I certainly wouldn't be devoting so much time and energy to them. It sounds callous, I know, but I'm sure most of them feel the same about me!

Having Ethiopia in common is a great starting point - and I'm sure that when I come home I will be moaning that nobody really 'gets' me, or some other pretentious nonsense - but it's not really enough to sustain a friendship. Back home you chose friends because they are like minded, you have things in common, you respect them, and you have fun. When you have a restricted pool of people to choose from, you find yourself lowering your standards, purely so you can have a conversation. This is why you can sometimes find yourself trying to pretend you didn't hear that racist remark, or vowing you will steer clear of political conversation in an attempt to keep your new friend…

'Geographical friends' are a part of expat life - not just for me, but for lots of people I have met who are living overseas. Sometimes you're lucky enough to meet someone you'd be friends with back home,and your friendship is only strengthened by the shared experience of the country you're living in - other times you find you're having dinner again, when you probably should have stayed in to watch Oprah …

11th January 2009

2009-01-29T08:17:00.000-08:00

This week has been really, really hard. In fact the last two weeks have been difficult – frequent power cuts, no running water, no internet, and no phone network. Argh! It's strange, but I can deal with no running water (washing out of a bucket? No problem!). However, give me a week with power cuts lasting more than 24 hours, and no internet connection, and I go completely crazy … not to mention I start to drive my poor project manager insane with my constant moaning.

When I have no internet connection, it's very hard to run Hanna's Orphanage, and instead the bulk of the work is dumped on the people back in England (who have jobs and lives and everything!). It gets even worse when there is no phone connection either, and I can't even call the orphanage in Addis! Of course, there's also the fact that I miss being able to talk to my friends or catch up with news at home – I love getting letters, and it's all very well to write to people, but I miss the immediacy of email.

But the thing that really makes me mad? There's no schedule! Nobody knows when the power is going to go off or when it's going to come back on again, so it's impossible to plan your day. Last Monday I planned to go to the school and spend the day there, so I didn't need power … which meant of course the electricity was on! On Tuesday I needed to do admin stuff in the office – so was there any power? Of course not. If someone had told me 'there will be no power all day Tuesday' I would have organised to go to the school then. For a control freak like me, the constant uncertainty is painful.

I'm the only one who thinks the lack of schedule is a problem, though. Nobody thinks it's bad to have no power for days at a time with no reason, and nobody would even think of complaining about it. Partly that's because there's nobody to complain to; if this was happening in the UK, you could write to the company, you could complain to the government, you could send 'Mrs Angry from Tumbridge Wells' letters to the newspapers. Here, there is nobody. We tried to complain to the telecommunications people and tried to find out any information about why the internet was off, and whether it was ever going to come back on again, and they just looked at us as if we'd asked them to make cheese. Often, the only answer you'll get is 'this is common in Ethiopia' (keep a lookout for that phrase in future blogs …).

But even if there was someone to complain to, people just don't. I'm not sure if it's because they simply don't feel electricity is their main priority (let's be honest, there are few people in rural Ethiopia who worry about watching CSI on a Monday night – having enough to eat, yes, watching TV, no.) or because they feel they have no right to expect anything. There's no a sense of 'you are a public service, I am your client, there is a level of service and/or information I am entitled to'. And from the other side, there is no sense of 'we are a public body, serving the public'.

I have never really been a fan of privatising various state-run services (railways, for instance) but here I can see benefits. For instance, when football is on, people charge 2 birr for you to go and watch the big screen. Of course, they need people to know about it – so they put a sign on an old disused bus outside the post office, telling people what games are being shown that day.

Why can't the electricity people put a sign up saying 'this week there will be no power on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday'? Because there is no money in it, nobody will complain if they don't and so there is no motivation to do it.

Which is why I am going slowly insane living here …

1st January - Part 3

2009-01-06T03:23:00.000-08:00

Happy Christmas!

There are two lines in the Band Aid song that have always really annoyed me. One of the offending lines is 'And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmas time', like that's a problem. Yeah, that's exactly what they need in Sudan – a debilitating civil war, genocide, and snowfall.

The other line that annoys me is 'Do they know it's Christmas time at all?'. Well, for a start, much of Africa of Muslim, so quite frankly they don't really care whether it's Christmas or not. And even countries that do celebrate Christmas aren't really bothered about December 25th. Ethiopia, for instance, don't celebrate Christmas until January 7th, so when I was celebrating my Christmas day, everyone else in Lalibela was getting on with their work, completely unconcerned. It was the first time I've ever been able to post a letter and go to the bank on December 25th!

In fact, my Christmas holiday was reasonably multicultural, all things considered. U. came from Addis to spend the holiday with me, and as she's Austrian, she celebrates on Christmas eve. So we had a nice candlelit dinner (Weds eve, so no electricity!) with Ab, my driver, and then we came back to the house where we opened presents whilst seated around the little wooden Christmas tree I brought from the UK.

We tried to make it as traditional as possible – I even had crackers (which U. had never heard of, much less seen!) and amused everyone by making them wear the paper hats and read out the jokes (note to self: cracker jokes do not translate successfully to Amharic). Due to the lack of electricity, there was no Cliff Richard singing 'Saviours Day', but I did light my 'cinamon apple and Christmas spices' candle in an attempt to get that festive feeling going!

Presents this year were interesting! Love to all family who sent me stuff through the post, and U. brought me some much needed supplies from Addis. No fancy video games or DVDs for me. Oh no! Instead I was getting excited about unwrapping a tin opener and a jar of chocolate spread! And who knew I could be so happy about getting a big bottle of shampoo and a half empty tub of U.'s deep conditioner! Woo hoo! Trust me, my joy was real!

We spent Christmas day walking around the beautiful rock hewn churches of Lalibela. In my role as the Ethiopian tourist board, you must go and see Lalibela churches at least once in your life. I swear, if they were anywhere else, they were be overrun by tourists, but not many people venture here. That's changing, though, so get here quick!

The churches were built by King Lalibela – with the help of Angels, depending on who you talk to and what your beliefs are. Divine helpers or not, the sheer craftsmanship of the churches is breathtaking. All of them were carved from rock rather than built from the bottom up, and each Church has a story and a specific purpose. There are 11 churches in the centre of Lalibela, and there are a few outside the town which are well worth going to. We were lucky that Abiy worships at one of the Churches a small hike up a mountain, and could tell us everything about the building. It was one of the most beautiful and peaceful mornings I've ever spent.

In my opinion, that's the best thing about these churches - they are not just memorials or tourist attractions, they are living churches. Every day, Ethiopians file in to pray or take part in Mass, and at Ethiopian Christmas thousands of people walk for miles (often in bare feet and with little more than the clothes they stand up in) just to be in such a Holy place.

It was an unusual and very spiritual way to spend English Christmas. Did I miss the turkey, watching the Queen's Speech and playing Uno? Yes, very much (the pizza we had for Christmas lunch didn't really cut it!). But it was worth it, just for this year.

And of course, on January 7th, I get to celebrate it all over again!

1st January - Part 2

2009-01-06T03:22:00.000-08:00

Although I'm living in Lalibela and working for another charity, Hanna's Orphanage is still the reason I am in Ethiopia, and I am still working with them in any way I can.

Which is why I was so happy that U. and her family and friends back in Austria have raised over 17,000 birr (around £1133) for the orphanage. U. has been to the orphanage several times with me, to help me teach lessons or just to play, and the kids love her. The money donated will be used to pay the rent on some of the houses for the children, and it really is a huge help for the orphanage.

Hopefully when U. goes back to Austria in January, she will be doing some more fundraising, and possibly even start the Austrian version of our music nights!

Speaking of which, after the successful Christmas Music Night on the 15th of December, we have scheduled our first gig of 2009 – in February. As I have recently discovered that it's not just my dad who reads this blog, I want to make sure that everyone knows about it and can prepare in advance!

Held in London, there will be the usual fantastic live music, a raffle with some really great prizes (a windsurfing weekend, boot-camp fitness sessions, alcohol and £20 vouchers for Hotel Chocolat have been previous prizes!) and food and drink is served all night. It's a great night, and you will be helping to raise money for a really deserving cause.

For more details, or to reserve yourself a table, please email maria@blueskyonline.co.uk

1st January - Part 1

2009-01-06T03:11:00.000-08:00

A day in my life

7.15am: My alarm goes off and I groan a bit.
7.30am: My alarm goes off again and I get out of bed. At home in London, I'm always up early, and by this time I would be leaving for work, but here in Ethiopia I hate getting out of bed. One of the reasons for this is that it's soooo cold in the mornings!
7.40am: I say good morning to George the rat and to Rita, Sue and Bob, the mice, before going in to the kitchen, just to warn them that I'm coming in and tell them that I'd prefer it if they stayed out of the way. Then I fill a saucepan and put some water on to boil for my morning cup of tea.

A day in my life

7.45am: It's filling the toilet cistern time! It takes 3 ½ litres to enable the toilet to flush, and it has to be filled manually, or I can fill a bucket of water and flush it that way. Flushing happens only when necessary, to conserve water.
7.50am: If there's running water, then I attempt to stand under the cold drips of the shower for as long as I can – if it's a 'no running water day' then it's washing with bottled water. Fun!
8.10am: Washed and dressed and back into kitchen with a shouted warning to George et al, I make my cup of tea and do my 30 second commute down the stone steps to my office.
8.15am: If it's a 'visiting school' day, we leave the office and drive the 30km out of Lalibela to Efra. Most of the road is asphalt, but the last quarter of it is barely a road! Even with our slick 4x4, it's like riding a kangaroo!
9.15am: We arrive at the school in Efra. Efra is a small community of about 300 people, and the NGO I'm working for right now, LEAP, has built a school there. It serves around 100 students at the moment, but they are currently building more classrooms and it will expand in the near future. I am going to work with the teachers and the students, but at the moment I am just observing things and learning how the school and the community works.

So I observe classes for a couple of hours while A. checks on the construction of the new classrooms. It's insanely hot out here, and with barely any shelter from the scrub trees, so I am always smothered in suntan lotion and with water handy.

11.00am: We drive back to the office.
12.00pm: Lunch! I either eat in my house (something mind bogglingly exciting like tuna fish and bread) or I eat at a local restaurant. Seven Olives Hotel is a popular tourist hotel which does great steak, or there's a restaurant called Unique which does really good Ethiopian food.
1.00pm-ish: Back to work. At the moment, I am putting together a report on the teaching and learning at the school, plus I am computerising some of the feedback from visitors etc. I'm also reading many reports and minutes of meetings, getting an idea of how the charity and school work. An important lesson was learnt fairly early on when we were without power for a whole day – when that happened in London, we were all
forced to finally do our filing because there was nothing really productive we could do without the computer. Here, power cuts are a common occurrence, so you have to make sure you can work without a computer. In fact, most of the local government offices don't have one – can you imagine that in the UK?! We all live and die by email!
5.00pm-ish: Finish work. And finishing work at 5pm is a novelty I have fully embraced! Not that there are a million things to do to Lalibela, but I am trying to teach myself to relax without the aid of TV!
6.30pm: Make some kind of food. So far, my range is limited to lots of pasta dishes involving tuna, tomatoes and garlic, with banana as desert. However, occasionally I branch out and buy meat. Beef is actually really cheap here, and involves going into a butcher's shop where they will carve a chunk out of a dead, skinned cow hanging from
the ceiling. The meat is tough, but edible, and I can make a mean chilli con carne (er … without the kidney beans as I can't buy them in Lalibela).

Chicken is more expensive, but available. A.'s girlfriend was going to the market and offered to get me some chicken as I wanted to make a curry. Fabulous – saves me doing the walk back up the hill! That afternoon she came back and placed a live chicken in my kitchen, which looked at me contemptuously and then strutted into the living room.

After a frantic moment of panic (and a small glint of hope, wondering whether the chicken could be encouraged to eat the mice?) I went to A.'s house and admitted that I was a city-girl-farange and couldn't kill the chicken by myself. Amid laughter, the chicken was dispatched to be killed (not so contemptuous now, huh, chicken?) and I was presented with a prepared chicken with everything, even the liver, ready to cook. I shall stick with beef in future.

7.30pm: If there is electricity, I will watch TV (God bless MBC and Dubai TV!) and do admin work for the orphanage. If there is no electricity (every Wednesday eve, all day at the weekends, and any other time they are doing work), then it's to bed with a candle and a book or to write some letters. Rock and roll.
10.00pm: At this time I used to watch Greys Anatomy (if there was electricity). I had no interest in this TV series in London, but I became obsessed with in Addis. The series has now ended and I have been left bereft with only the series 'Las Vegas' to replace it. Admittedly, 'Las Vegas' does contain a few attractive men, but is not a patch on Greys Anatomy!

So now, 10.00pm normally means sleep. I need a lot of sleep in Lalibela. I blame it on the altitude.

15th December 2008

2008-12-22T09:11:00.000-08:00

Today I arrived in Lalibela, and so far, it's fabulous! I grudginglyrolled out of bed at 4.30 in the morning, was in the airport departure lounge in time to watch the sun come up, and arrived in Lalibela at about 9.40am. A., the project manager of the charity I will be working for, came to meet me, and together with the driver and the foreman (and my luggage!), we piled into the 4x4 and started thewinding journey to Lalibela.

I was in Lalibela for about 3 days in 2006, and had really felt at home there. I'd hated Addis when I'd first arrived, and was concerned I was going to hate Ethiopia entirely, but then I arrived in Lalibela and fell completely in love. I remember saying to K. as we were driven up the mountains 'I don't mean to be insensitive, and I know these people are poor, but my God, they have amazing views!' And I honestly felt no different this time. The steep, winding roads, the incredible views across the mountains, the women making their way into the town with bundles of firewood on their backs, the traditional wooden tukuls … all of it was so familiar, I just kept grinning the entire journey.

And then my grin got wider (if that was possible) when we arrived inthe town of Lalibela and I was shown my house. At the top end of Lalibela already, we walked up a dirt hill, and then several hundred (well, it felt like it at the time) stone steps, before getting to a little wooden house with a kitchen, two bedrooms and a big open living room with floor to ceiling windows. All the better to see the amazing views of the mountain on the right, and Lalibela town at the front!
The house is on a compound with A.'s house, and the LEAP Ethiopia office, meaning I have a 30 second commute to my desk in the morning. Fabulous! I also have a guard (who appears to be about 103 and makes worried noises whenever I go out on my own!) and his two sons who are available to run errands for me – like buying me bread or something.

I also have a flatmate – unfortunately! – in the form of a rat named George. I don't particularly want to share a house with him, but he appears to be unwilling to leave. My second night here, I was cooking dinner when he popped up to say hello and scared the crap out of me. So I went to find A. and some of his friends to get rid of this rat (Damsel in Distress complex? Me? Never!). They responded to my call, and came bearing rat poison and a shovel (presumably they were going to beat it to death!) but sensibly, George had disappeared. So we put down rat poison and bread. In the morning, the bread had disappeared, but there was no dead rat, and judging by the noise, George is definitely alive and well.

So it looks like I'm stuck with him a while longer. It means I'm kept awake every night by his scrabblings, I am constantly disinfecting my kitchen, and have to keep all of my food in the fridge so he can't nibble at it. He is not a good houseguest.

But other than George, Lalibela is fantastic, and I'm definitely ready for my first week here!

12th December, 2008

2008-12-20T13:12:00.000-08:00

I have three days left in Addis before I fly to Lalibela and begin my new job there. As much as I am excited to go to Lalibela, I am sad to be leaving Addis, especially as it seems to be such an important and useful time for me to be at the orphanage.

A week or so ago, the orphanage itself was 'audited' by Caritas, their main donor, and a report was produced, listing strengths, weaknesses and recommendations. This audit was incredibly useful for the orphanage, showing them exactly where they need to improve things, where they can work more effectively, and how exactly they can do that.

For us as a charity, it shows clearly where we can help the most.

Although we help the orphanage by sending money and buying resources, we also help with 'capacity building' and providing skills – for example, I've been helping them write project proposals and design promotional material, which is just as useful to them as providing clothes for the children.

We have also been focussing on ways we can ensure the orphanage works effectively as possible, and is sustainable. The orphanage grew organically from Hanna, and she is the driving force behind it all, so if – God forbid – something happened to Hanna, the atmosphere and ethos of the orphanage would be deeply affected. We want to ensure that the orphanage has a life above and beyond Hanna by making sure staff members have the right skills and knowledge to be able to continue running the orphanage as well as it's being run now.

The Caritas report confirms that we're on the right track, which is good!

Consequently, we are going to use some money raised to provide computer trainings for some of the employees, as well as project planning and management training for the project officers. We are also looking at sourcing software training for the accountancy staff, as only one person currently knows how to use it, so if that person is sick, nobody can access financial records easily.

As for me, I am continuing to type up and computerise records for the orphange (both in English and Amharic), and I am working on assisting S, the Project Officer.

So although I will be Lalibela, I will still be able to do some admin things for the orphanage. In fact, I was really sad to be leaving today, which surprised me a bit. Sometimes, working at the orphanage, I am so frustrated with the lack of progress or the slowness with which things happen that I want to bang my head on a brick wall, and I know that I am constantly bossing S around. And yet, I am going to miss it. And even stranger, they are all sad to see me go – Weird people!

Surprising things that might happen to you in Ethiopia:

2008-12-17T15:26:00.000-08:00

- You might discover a grand prix

One Sunday morning a few weeks ago, I was walking down Bole Road to meet a friend at the Ghion Hotel when I noticed that even though it was Sunday the road was unusually quiet. All become clear when I turned the corner and discovered what appeared to be the Grand Prix going on in Meskel Square. Small, brightly coloured cars with 'go faster stripes' were being driven round a professional looking track at alarming speed, and crowds of Ethiopian men packed the streets and sat on top of walls to watch it all going on.

There was no way I could get across Meskel Square without being either run over or arrested by the many policemen who were hanging around, so I had to give up the idea of meeting my friend. Instead, I spent a few bewildered minutes watching these cars screech around the track before making my way home. I later find out that car racing is a completely normal part of Ethiopian life, and this particular race takes place every year (run, I think, by a group of Italians). Not what I expected to find that day, though.

- You might get a doughnut when you wanted a coke – or a macciato when you were promised a mango juice

N sat a table at Saay Pastry, waiting for me to finish in the internet café. After a long search for mango juice in Addis, she was very excited when the waiter confirmed they did have mango juice. Fabulous! A while later, the waiter reappeared with a beautifully presented macciato and placed it on the table in front of her. When she pointed out this was not a mango juice, the waiter agreed. So N drank the macciato.

At the same café about two months later, I had the following conversation:
Me: "und coca? Cass casa? (one cold coke please!)"
Waitress: "eshe (okay)"
Waitress walks away to get order, then turns to me:
Waitress: "one doughnut?"
Me, mildly confused: "No, one coke"
Waitress walks down a few stairs: "Two doughnuts?"
Me, even more confused: "No doughnuts. Just one coke?"
Waitress: "doughnuts?"
Me, completely bewildered: "Coke … coca. Pepsi!'
Waitress: "ahhhh, Pepsi! Yes!"
Sigh.

- You may discover a fashion show populated by girls wearing balloons and not much else

I went to meet U. for dinner at Lime Tree restaurant which is a real 'hangout' for Farangis, but normally fairly quiet. So I was surprised to hear booming music and shouts and cheering as I approached. The cheering wasn't for me, sadly, but instead for whatever was going on
in a huge marquee outside the building. I shifted around so I could see what was going on, and was surprised to see Ethiopian women strutting along a catwalk … dressed in bikinis and balloons. Balloons.

It looked for all the world like a fashion show – but one for clothes made out of balloons. Everyone watching was very stylish and well dressed, and clearly the event was a big success!

- A goat might fall on your head

On one of the last days of our trip to the south, we visited a Salt Lake at a town near the border to Kenya. It was deep down in a crater, so we started early and did the half an hour walk down the mountain before 7am. It was quite slow going down, with many unstable rocks, but of course it was much harder climbing back up and it took us a good hour.

N. led the group, with U. somewhere in the middle and, true to form, me miles behind, sweaty, red, and out of breath. The path went up the mountain in a zig zag, and as N reached one corner, she could hear a 'scrabbling' above her head. It didn't sound like it was another person following the track, and U and I were way behind so it wasn't us. All of a sudden, there was a crash and a goat fell from the path above and landed beside N – causing both of them a considerable amount
of shock, I would imagine.

It's a good job the goat didn't land directly on her, if only because nobody wants to have to fill out a travel insurance claim with the reason for injury being 'goat fell on my head'.

5th December, 2008

2008-12-10T07:30:00.000-08:00

I have been in a really tense mood for about a week now, and this morning I woke up with a pounding tension headache to prove it. I feel like I either need to get really, really drunk, or go to the gym for a really good workout.

I'm not sure why I'm feeling so tense and scattered – possibly because I still don't have a date for moving to Lalibela and it's getting very near Christmas: this means flights are getting busy, and if there are any free seats, they're really expensive. Plus U is coming to stay with me in Lalibela and we have a whole Christmas planned (I have crackers, a Christmas tree and everything!) which will be no good if I'm still in Addis! Oh yes, and I'm a bit of a control freak and I don't like it when I don't know exactly what's happening when.

A more serious reason for my mood may be because I have been transcribing the stories of the children from the orphanage, and quite frankly they're enough to make you lose faith in all human beings, let alone 'get a little tense'. Some people might read the stories and feel real sorrow from the children and the things they've been through, or pride that they have managed to get through all life has thrown at them, and I do feel that too. However, I'm afraid the overwhelming emotion for me is anger at the ignorance shown, and how people – particularly those who are supposed to love and care for them – treat them.

These children are bereaved (often by HIV or Aids) and then looked after by other family members, sometimes a surviving parent and a step-parent, or a cousin, or a sibling. Some of these children are raped, abused and beaten by those family members, others are thrown out when children from the new marriage appear and take precedence. Some are taken to a city (usually Addis) by 'friends of the family' who then put them to work in someone else's house as a servant, while pocketing all their earnings.

Having a maid is a normal thing in Ethiopia – it's not just for the rich or middle classes. It's a way of creating jobs, after all. But who employs an 8 year old to look after their baby and cook for them, as one girl's story tells? I am not immune, the family I live with had a maid, and she worked long hours – but she is a grown woman. An 8 year old?

And then there are the stories where people get sick and so go to a 'cultural' healer. They tell them the sickness is not medical, you don't need drugs, it's because of some 'spiritual matter' and you must go home to your family (leaving your children in Addis) and pray a lot. Shockingly, this doesn't work and the person dies, leaving their children to the mercy the streets or people wanting to take advantage of them.

Now, I know I sound disrespectful, and my rational brain says think about all these situations properly instead of having some knee-jerk reaction (a-la readers of a much mocked daily newspaper in the UK …). People are trying to survive in difficult circumstances and they do what they have to do, while if someone gets ill and you don't have the knowledge to understand it, you are going to try and explain it within the context of your life and beliefs. It doesn't just happen in developing countries, either, it happens all the time in our own lives.

It still makes me mad though. It makes me want to shake people and tell them to wake up, open their eyes and act!

And now I'm off to the pub or the gym. I haven't decided which, yet.

Make a Difference Day Ethiopia

2008-12-10T07:28:00.000-08:00

I know I declared blog bankruptcy a while ago, but this is the one story I do want to make sure I tell.

On the 18^th of October, 2008, we held a 'Make a Difference Day' (see www.csv.org.uk) event at the orphanage, where nearly 40 children, many members of staff, and several expats gave up their morning to paint the compound, library, offices and classrooms of the orphanage. The Hanna's Orphanage charity provided the paint, and paintbrushes (which of course will be useful in the future) and we all provided the manpower!

I know I often moan about how the pace of life (and therefore work) is much slower in Ethiopia, but my goodness these children can paint fast! We started at 9 o'clock and the whole thing was painted, everyone cleaned up and admiring their handiwork by lunchtime! I've honestly never seen such teamwork and military precision.

The kids were really excited about painting, and soon there were teams washing down the office walls with mops and a hosepipe, preparing the paint tins, and organising who was going to paint which bit. There were so many eager children that I couldn't manage to get a paintbrush (story of my life!), so after helping to wash down the office walls I was relegated to taking photos and videos and providing moral support to those doing the work.

Health and safety is obviously a very important part of volunteering and these kind of events, but I have to admit that the older boys were making very unstable looking towers of chairs and tables to paint the top of the walls, while the little ones crouched under the tables and painted the lower parts of the wall. Luckily, no disaster befell us – though more by luck than judgement – and everyone was still in one piece by the end of it.

As the compound became more and more green, expats and friends started to arrive to help. U and her flatmate B came along first, shortly followed by Y, one of the Ethiopian family I live with. Then M, a friend of a friend from England who hadn't been in Addis for that long, came and joined the group. Of course, the fact that there were no more paintbrushes and the children were running the show like a military operation meant that they had to be content with watching, meeting the children and being shown around the orphanage.

My theory is, the more people who know about the orphanage, the better. B works for the Danish embassy and was soon able to suggest different grants programmes they could apply for, and I spent a while explaining exactly how the orphanage worked, the ethos behind it, and what people could do to help. I guess I felt that was my 'Make a Difference Day' volunteering, as I certainly wasn't needed to help with the painting!

By lunchtime, everything was painted and everyone had cleared up, and a very happy bunch of children went back to their individual homes for some lunch. Next year we're looking at possibly painting and cleaning up some of the community homes, so maybe 'Make a Difference Day' will become a permanent fixture for the orphanage?

29th November, 2008

2008-12-02T15:20:00.000-08:00

Things are busy at the orphanage at the moment – which is great! I like to be busy and feel like I'm being useful!

One of the main things I'm doing is attempting to computerise the orphanage's records. As with many organisations that have grown so organically (in this case, from Hanna taking in one child around 24 years ago) the information is often held in people's minds and in the collective memory of the organisation, and not always shared effectively. The orphanage do actually have hard copy information on every child – and every staff member knows each child personally – but they are handwritten and in Amharic. This doesn't make it very easy for funders (such as us) to be able to access them, and it makes them quite difficult to update on a regular basis. There are also some gaps in the information.

So currently I am working with T, a psychology student who volunteers for the orphanage, to translate the current files, fill in the missing bits of information, and transfer it all on to computer. We will then have a typed file on each young person, as well as a database to enable us to monitor and analyse the information. We will also ensure that there is a computerised version in Amharic. This kind of thing will help the school to keep track of the children's academic performances, share information to enable better care for them all, and will enable them to compile data quickly for project proposals and reports etc.

It's quite a time consuming job, and tedious in places, but it's been a privilege to be able to read the individual stories of the children. Some I knew, some I didn't, but all of them show just how important it is to look after these children. So many have lost their parents, only to be abused by the people who were supposed to be looking after them, or they were simply left out on the streets when other relatives couldn't – or wouldn't – take them in. In the next few months I hope to be able to share some of the stories with you (with permission from the children, of course).

Maybe it's because I'm doing this work that I have a sudden fascination with what everyone is doing in Ethiopia. Today we went to an 'NGO Fair' and a 'Diplomatic Bazaar' (no, I wasn't sure what they were either!) and there were faranjis as far as the eye could see! In between eating fabulous food sold by all the embassies, and buying hand made crafts from NGOs, I just kept wondering how on earth all these people had ended up in Ethiopia. The few non-Ethiopians I know in Addis are here doing internships for various charities or aid agencies, but I am always seeing young families around, and at these markets today there were people of all ages and from as many countries as you can think of. As J pointed out, it was probably the most white people we've ever seen in one place since we came to Ethiopia!

As it's probably not polite (and definitely not British!!) to go up to strangers and ask 'why are you here?', I was left wondering as I walked around the stalls. Had that English couple over there come to Ethiopia specifically to adopt the Ethiopian baby they had with them? Or were they babysitting? Or had they adopted the baby in the UK and come for a visit? What about the woman in the Channel twinset, with the immaculately coiffed hair and string of pearls? She must be something to do with the embassy, surely? Is the teenager with the long blonde dreadlocks here because of his parents, or is he on a freakishly early gap year? What about the old couple who are rushing around, making sure everyone has coffee? And the man over there who must be at least 6 foot 4, with a long silver ponytail – what's his story?

In fact, there were some moments at the NGO market, which was held in a Lutheran Church, where I felt I could have been at a church fate in Surrey. It was a slightly surreal feeling! On a slightly different but related note, I was quite impressed with the variety of things on sale at the Diplomatic Bazaar, where every country with an Embassy in Addis was showcasing the best bits of its country. I was a bit disappointed that the UK stall was selling copies of Heat magazine and 'Take a Break', but U was impressed with the mulled wine, and I loved the Harrods biscuits and packets of Foxes Glacier Mints (what's the betting someone picked them up at the airport? They were on special offer when I left!). However, U and I are still a little baffled over the fact that the Austrian stall was selling screwdrivers. Is that really something they're famous for?! Apparently so!