15th December 2008

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

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:

- 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

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

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

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!