‘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!
Thursday, 28 May 2009
17th May 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, 21 May 2009
In other news…
- 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…
- 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
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!
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!
Friday, 15 May 2009
9th May 2009
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 …
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 …
Tuesday, 12 May 2009
7th May 2009
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!
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
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!
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
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.
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.
Friday, 1 May 2009
Hanna's Gig - April 2009
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
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
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