TLGers in Ethiopia

I am so excited that former TLG colleages, Jennifer and Martin, are in Ethiopia this very moment, volunteer teaching at the English Alive Academy.

Their new blog, The Beels in Ethiopia, is pretty hilarious. And I love reading about the cool stuff they're doing at the English Alive Academy in Nazret.

Reading their experiences and mine just shows again how everyone experiences a country differently. For example, where they had a fabulous time in Lalibela, I had a meltdown. I survived my mullet phase; they survived theirs.

Bates Hotel in Nazret, Ethiopia?

On Pencils

Volunteer teaching at the English Alive Academy in Nazret, Ethiopia, was very satisfying. Really, it's hard to have a bad day when greeted by dozens of smiling children shaking your hand and exclaiming, "Good morning!" Or being the recipient of serial kisses, hugs, and "I love you's!"

 

When it came to the actual teaching, though, I could not believe how much time was lost because one or two children did not have a usable pencil. Not because they didn't have one at all, but because the pencil quality was so poor, it took many futile attempts at sharpening (often with a big knife) to reveal the lead trapped within. Scrambling for one or two decent pencils held up the entire class' progress.

Evidently, there are either no good pencils to be found in Ethiopia or they are prohibitively expensive.

From Amazon

I've since learned that the decent-pencil problem exists in the U.S., too, even at private schools.

Maybe these Ticonderoga pencils would do the trick, seeing as they're "the world's best pencil."

I wonder if Ticonderoga ever donates pencils ....

At $13 USD per box of 96, yikes, that's a lot of money in Ethiopia.

If someone should be so moved to donate pencils to the English Alive Academy, (a registered charity in the UK) they may be shipped to:

Dawit Hailu

PO Box 170222

Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

Alerting the school in advance at stephanddawit at yahoo dot co dot uk would give them a heads-up to look for the package.

Ethiopia: Going Home, Tuesday, Part 1

Woke up at Azeb's house in Nazret. Drank the last of my Nescafe, made with water heated via Azeb's propane stove.

Yesterday, I'd begun the end-of-trip discarding process -- I will go home much lighter than I arrived, shedding two pairs of pants, a blouse, some medications, a parcel of duct tape, two pairs of white socks, my fast-dry towels/washcloths, two pens, the cell phone I "bought" from Habtomi, and some birr. (I sloughed off my tennis shoes in the Bale Mountains.)

For a week I've coaxed the last bit of anti-perspirant from a stick I'd bought in a Chicago hotel when I forgot mine at home. This morning, I used the last of it.

Photo credit: Wastegeneration

The travel-size toothpaste is almost spent, as is my sunscreen.

I gave Stephanie the orange scarf I bought for cover against the dust on side streets.

When I completed my packing (plus finished reading a book of Stephanie's), I walked up to the Dire International Hotel to upload the photos I took yesterday. Unfortunately, no internet connection, but I was able to transfer the photos from the camera to my flash drive.

Presently, I took a minibus taxi to the bus station to pick up a public bus to Addis. Even on my last day in Ethiopia, there was a bit of excitement. First, there was this crazy man, teeth almost completely blackened from .. what? Chat? Poor dental hygiene? I don't know. He lifted my very-light bag into the bus and then says, "tip," "tip," "tip." I just look at him stupidly. As it turned out, I don't think he was even with the bus company; at some point, he gets off the bus and disappears into the street after a mystifying, angry exchange with the bus assistant.

Photo from travelpod

The bus took a cruise around the block to muster more passengers, and we eventually pushed off for Addis. It was early afternoon, thus chat-chewing time, and not a few passengers climbed aboard with chat "bouquets" in their hands. (I noted the chat in Nazret is a treacly version of the robust green product sold in Harar.)

Several bus passengers (and, possibly, the driver) chewed chat in the bus. One idiot, seated on the upholstered hump between the driver and the two front seat passengers, manicured his cluster of chat twigs, breaking long sections of the twigs and dropping them on the bus floor right smack in the passenger off-on area. I observed this for a few minutes, irritated, then picked up two offending sticks and tossed them over to a safer location on the floor, ensuring the slob could see what I was doing. He didn't get the hint, however, and when he again tossed his chat detritus onto the bus floor, right where all passengers had to walk, I clapped his arm and said, "Hey!" and pointed to the twigs, "people can break their necks tripping on these!" and I gestured for him to pick the things up and move them. Which he did. I wondered if there is an Ethiopian equivalent to the American phrase, "Were you born in a barn?" Probably none of this would have bothered me if it weren't for the fact this bus was identified as a "1st level bus," indicating it is in the best condition and has the most comfort of the three levels of buses (for which passengers pay a premium).

The good part of the bus trip was that the driver played this song by Aster Aweke several times. It's Ameseginalu ("thank you"). This happens to be a word I like to say to Ethiopians because it almost always makes them smile at me.  Don't know if it's because of my accent or what, but I like the reaction.

Photo credit: quarrygirl

Photo credit: quarrygirl

Got to Addis around 3:00. Bought my last samosas from Ethiopia to share with Dawit, Stephanie, and their family. Dawit picked me up and we went to their house to hang out til it was time for me to go to the airport. We talked budgets and fundraising for the school.

I'm not sure Stephanie and Dawit fully appreciate all of the good they're doing -- in addition to providing a good education for many children, they provide jobs for almost 20 people, including teachers, administrators, cleaning staff, and guards. That is impressive in a country with such a high unemployment rate.

Stephanie served a delicious dinner with shiro and misur -- so simple and traditional, so good. Perfect meal for last day in Ethiopia.

Stephanie stayed back with the two kids while Dawit took me to the airport. I'd kept back 100 birr for spending at the airport -- not sure for what exactly; I"d given all of my other birr - a little over 200, to Stephanie and Dawit.

So I went through security with my one, now-slender wheeled bag and my shoulder bag, feeling very carefree. I had a pleasant chat with the immigration officer; she was so gracious and smiley -- turns out she came from Gorgora (that tiny town on Lake Tana).

Had a coffee. Then caroused the souvenir shops thinking I had to burn those birr by buying something - anything. 'Course I couldn't bring myself to buy junk food or junk souvenirs, and the amount I had was insufficient to buy what did look attractive. I wasted an hour going from shop to shop in the airport, wishing I'd given Stephanie and Dawit all but 20 birr.

Bole Airport, Addis Ababa. Photo credit: vobo8

But then I got it - I took out a 50-birr note, sidled up to the bathroom attendant, said "tenastalin" and slipped her the note. I had 38 birr left, and I gave that to a woman cleaning the floor.

And away I went. 

Ethiopia: A Sweet Coffee Goodbye in Nazret

Seble and Membre, teachers on the KG campus

I visited the English Alive Academy campuses for the last time today. Took photos to replace those lost when my camera was stolen.












The teachers gave me a beautiful coffee ceremony:

The cups are clean and ready, as is the herb to add to the cup.

Fragrant and beautiful flora grace the "stage."

Membre roasts fresh coffee beans on a charcoal brazier.

Mekdes culls poor roasted beans, leaving only the good. In the jabena is hot water.

Mekdes grinds the coffee.

Mekdes adds the freshly ground coffee to the jabena, filled with hot water.

An experience treasured. 

Ethiopia: Countdown for Landing, Nazret Again, Day 2, Saturday

A laid-back day in Nazret. Stephanie and I talked school budgets and fundraising. Dawit arrived from Addis later with the mission to repair student chairs and desks.

I took new photos of Azeb, Stephanie, and Dawit to replace those lost with my stolen camera. I used a camera someone donated to the school.

After lunch, Azeb, Stephanie, and Dawit took off for Addis, leaving me alone in "Hotel Azeb" til Tuesday.

Nazret

Walked up to the Dire International Hotel to upload these few new pictures and key in a journal entry. The work on the hotel terrace now complete, I stepped outside for my habitual cold Ambo and lemon before
walking home.

Mosquitoes again a problem at night. Damn things.

Ethiopia: Leaving Harar, Friday

Photo credit: Jungle Walk

Got up at 3:30 a.m. to prepare for my Harar departure. I was ready with time to spare, and walked down to street level with the night clerk, who awakened one of the young hotel boys to walk with me to the bus stop and to lug my bag (which I was prepared to lug myself, but had learned early on that was a futile fight on my part). It was around 4:45 as we walked up the road in the dark; even so, the city was rising. I turned around once to look back at the Harar Gate. A hyena stood quietly in the middle of the street. A fitting goodbye to Harar.

Photo credit: YETEGLFRIE MENGESHA

I slept sporadically in the bus, but appreciated the second time seeing the quiet, vast beauty of Lake Beseka in the Awash area.

Photo credit: Currently unknown

Oryx. Photo credit: African Butterflies

I even saw a herd of oryx.

If only it looked this nice. Photo credit: Helman

The only other event of note occurred when the bus rolled into the town of Fentale. Time for the lunch stop. We passed a couple of hotels where I thought, "Oh, I bet they've got decent toilets ... " But we passed those by and pulled into a hotel courtyard where I knew, with a flash of annoyance, that the toilets here would be dark and dirty. And when I saw the women rolling up their pants legs before even entering the toilet area, I started getting really annoyed. You know why? Our Selambus had joined a Skybus already parked. A few minutes later, a second Selambus pulled in behind ours. Later, two public buses piled in. Five big buses, with the bus companies surely getting compensation for stopping at this particular place and the hotel/restaurant owner raking in money from the debarking bus passengers who ate here -- and to have filthy toilets?! All these women passengers with their long skirts or pants, sometimes with children in tow?!


After a fascinating lunch of two whole fish (with eyeballs removed, thankfully, leaving only the empty sockets upon which to gaze), fried, I asked the waiter for the owner or manager. Said individual happened to be within earshot and he (to his credit) identified himself. I pointed out that he had five (five!) buses with many ladies (and I pointed out several of us for emphasis), spending money at his establishment and they had to contend with dirty toilets! I told him he ought to be hosing these out every hour, that his lady customers shouldn't have to suffer these conditions, particularly when he received income from them. The owner was appropriately apologetic, but this only matters if he changes conditions in the future. And Selambus and Skybus are just as much to blame for allowing their customers to tolerate such conditions - the companies should be ashamed of themselves, their lofty, wordy mission statements about quality customer service notwithstanding.

See? A clean toilet. 

The fact that these are the traditional hole-in-the-floor latrines is irrelevant; these should be easier to keep clean than seat toilets -- all you have to do is is hose them well. And for God's sake, why are there never any hooks on which to hang one's bag?








 OK, we moved on, and arrived in Nazret around 1:00 p.m. (Much to Stephanie's surprise; she was expecting me much later, even though I said it'd be around 1:00. Despite my kvetching above, what used to require an overnight trip between Harar and Nazret, really only takes a half day now, and this will only improve nationally as more roads get improved, i.e., paved). I got dropped off in front of the Dire International Hotel, and walked to Azeb's.

Stephanie and I talked school business for most of the afternoon, then we walked up to the Rift Valley Cafe, where we met the school's new volunteer teacher, Paul, from San Diego. He is here for about 10 days, and seems very congenial.

Poor Azeb suffered from flu -- headache, congestion, coughing.

Mosquitoes plagued me throughout the night. The damned bimbies.

Ethiopia: From Nazret to Addis, Part 1

TMy last day at the English Alive Academy. I wanted to say goodbye at both campuses. Stephanie, Dawit, and I tooled to the Grade 1-4 campus in their cute blue minivan. I said thank you and goodbye to each teacher and administrator --Adenech, Eshet, Chibarey, Lema, Helina, Birkutan, and Bekolech. I received many child hugs and kisses and "I love yous!"

Bogalech, English Alive Academy

This morning, I saw that the creation of the "computer room" via the insertion of a new wall in the grade 2 classroom was almost complete. (It was started yesterday.)

[It's really pretty amazing what Stephanie and Dawit have created and maintained for the past five years. The maintenance of such an ambitious endeavor as this school being remarkable in itself.]

Next week, the grade school's two computers (one bought used and one donated by a previous volunteer teacher, Frazier) should be up and running.

Back to the present - Dawit became involved in the partition completion, and as the morning began sliding away from us, Stephanie and I walked to the KG campus.

Eshetu, English Alive Academy

More bittersweet goodbyes to the teachers and other staff there - Mekdes, Seble, Freiwot, Sennot, Membre, Kidust, Belynesh, and (I'm forgetting one of the teachers). I felt touched when the teachers said they wanted to have a coffee ceremony for me, and sad that I didn't have time to do so, as I needed to get to the immigration office in Addis before it closed today, to extend my visa.

When I told Sennot (KG2 teacher that my next visits would be to Awassa and the Bale Mountains, she said her hometown was in the Bale Mountains, and how beautiful it is there.

With no sign of Dawit joining us, Stephanie and I walked to Azeb's to finish pulling our gear together for the drive to Addis. We piddled about, still awaiting Dawit, who phoned three times to say he was "on his way". An hour or so later... Well, it had turned out that a very difficult administrative problem had manifested itself, which required Dawit's immediate, full attention, and which will require additional action in the coming days.

Helina, English Alive Academy

At any rate, once Dawit arrived, we all moved quickly -- and Azeb decided to join us on the trip to Addis. I was very happy about this, as I knew she wanted to spend more time with her visiting brother and other family members this weekend, but she had originally thought the partition wouldn't go up til Saturday, and she'd have to stay and oversee that operation. (Azeb, like Stephanie and Dawit, receives NO financial compensation - other than food money from volunteer teachers - for all the work she does at and for the school. I'm hoping that with the realistic student sponsorship amount, at least Stephanie and Dawit will, in the near future, actually get paid for the work they do. Currently, they worry every month about meeting payroll, and it is not uncommon for Dawit to make a trip to the bank to withdraw funds from their meager personal account to pay the teachers' salaries.)

Chibarey, English Alive Academy

So we all piled in the vehicle and were on our way. In Debre Zeit, we stopped at the Genesis Farm market and bought yogurt and cheese (delicious!). We stopped at the Ankober Guest House long enough for me to drop my luggage, and then they dropped me off at the Immigration compound so I could extend my visa. This was a huge help to me, and I didn't have to trouble about finding my way there on my own.

Ethiopia: Nazret, Day 9, English Alive Academy

Spent the morning at the English Alive Academy grade school campus, teaching.

During the morning break, there was a great bustling as the 2nd graders moved all of the contents of their classroom into the grade 4 classroom, while the 4th graders moved their room's contents into another room. It took all of about 10 minutes, the children moved so quickly. I no sooner picked up an item to carry than it was whisked out of my hands by a child's hands. Eventually, I just got the hell out of the way.

This activity occurred so a carpenter and an electrician could install a new wall and wiring into the grade 2 room, creating a space for the new "computer room."

At lunch, I went to Azeb's as usual, and Stephanie and Dawit had arrived with their two little ones. (Dawit had called me earlier in the week to say they'd come in to Nazret on Thursday and bring me back to Addis rather than my taking the public bus back. This also gave the young'ns an opportunity to visit with their "Nana," and for S&D to check on things at the school.) Stephanie and I talked the entire afternoon about the school, fund-raising, planning, etc.

Stephanie and Dawit have somehow kept the school afloat for five years, at great sacrifice to themselves. To make their school dream a reality, for example, Dawit actually left his job at an embassy in Addis, a good job that would have provided him with lifetime financial stability. They lived on Stephanie's income at another school so Dawit could devote full time to their vision of a good education for poor children.

For five years, Stephanie and Dawit have used their own Spartan resources to cover gaps in payroll, respond to financial emergencies that come with building, vehicle, and regulatory maintenance; and provide school supplies. (An example of regulatory maintenance: When the government tax people saw that S&D did not operate the school in the black, the tax official said they must be hiding something, because anyone who didn't make money would have closed the school. S&D were assessed 6000 birr for taxes, which is the equivalent to 361 dollars US. This is a huge amount of money to S&D, but to keep the school open, they had to find the money somewhere from their own pockets.)

I talked with Stephanie about how she and Dawit need to at least establish a salary for themselves on paper, even if the school doesn't yet generate any money to pay for it. I used friend Pam's experience as the director of a not-for-profit adoption agency, where even though she only could pay herself if an adoption went through (and one never knew when or how often that might happen), it was important for Pam to establish a monthly salary. This has application at tax times, when applying for grants, for planning, etc. I advocated that this salary needs to be averaged across the 200 student sponsorships so that when there are sponsors, Stephanie and Dawit could actually pay themselves for their work. Besides, their two kids are young and easy maintenance now, but as they get older .... (Currently, Stephanie home schools the two kids. They call her Miss Stephanie during class.)

So Stephanie and I worked out a salary for her and Dawit, currently at half time, as administrators (Stephanie as the academic manager and Dawit as the operations manager), that will provide them with a sustainable income. The amount is so low by Western standards, it is shocking -- less than $200 for BOTH of them together! It adds only 90 cents to the monthly student sponsorship amount.

We also added some bits to the monthly student scholarship fee to start up a reserve fund (with a goal, at minimum, of three months' expenses to operate the school) and also a short-term emergency fund (e.g. building and vehicle breakdowns, etc.) The monthly student sponsorship will be $19.00 per month or $228 per year. Having the reserve fund is an organizational best practice and that, plus a short-term emergency fund will alleviate much current stress the two feel about the school's constant living-on-the-edge existence.

Another funding stream will be through teacher sponsorships, which will eventually cover the teachers' salaries (also shockingly low!), a protective lab coat, teaching supplies, and professional development. Currently, the teachers' salaries are NOT where S&D want them to be, but they can barely pay them now as it is. If the teachers get sponsored, then S&D can increase their salaries to above the going market rate, plus create a stable payroll safety net that does not depend solely on student scholarships.

Eventually, there will also be a building campaign. The Ethiopian government promised S&D to give them free land if they collect the money to build a school on it. S&D are in the process now of pulling information together to estimate the cost to build a school. One dream here is to have dorms so children who live too far from a school can live on campus during the school week.

In a meeting with Adenech this evening, Dawit and Stephanie and she made their decision to add grades 5 through 8 next year! Whew! They are fearless in their dreams. They just do stuff and assume it will work out OK.

And so far, it has.

Ethiopia: Nazret, Day 8, English Alive Academy

Two English Alive Academy teachers

I took pictures again today at the English Alive Academy to finish up. I regret that I probably missed a few children, so their parents won't get a photo, but I did the best I could. I also took photos of the teachers, the administrative staff, and the cleaners.

Enjoyed three great classroom teachings at the grade school. I love how the teachers laugh (and then the children) laugh when I push my mouth into various contortions to demonstrate proper English pronunciation. Amharic has the lovely rolling r's like Spanish and the charming "z" sound, like French, when pronouncing "th." Nevertheless, I must insist on the plainer English r's and th's.

An English Alive Academy teacher

After school, I had an appointment with school administrator Adenech, who'd invited me to her house for a coffee ceremony. We walked to her compound, which was a pleasing shady oasis providing relief from the throat-closing dustiness of Nazret's side streets. Adenech lives there with her husband, son, daughter, mother, and maid. Because of the ever-rising cost of living in Ethiopia, Adenech and her husband have rented one of the compound's outbuildings to a woman. Inside the compound are a couple of coffee shrubs, fruit trees, and flowers.

The maid was making injera, and that was fun to see the entire process laid out before me: the large container with the grain teff in it, a bucket with the teff/water mixture that had been fermenting for three days (like sourdough), the maid scooping out the teff dough and placing it on a hot skillet, and a completed injera cooling atop a holder.

An English Alive Academy teacher with students

Adenech had prepared a charcoal brazier over which she placed green coffee beans. She used a special tool to continuously move the beans over the heat, roasting them til they darkened and the coffee oil emerged to the surface, making the beans glisten. Habtom, Adenech's son, then placed the roasted beans into a special container and ground them with what looked like an immense, heavy flat-top screw. Pound! Pound! Pound!

When Habtom completed the coffee grinding (pounding), Ruth finished the coffee-making process by adding water to filter through the coffee, using the traditional jabena.

A large platter of popcorn appeared (now we're talkin'!), and I was instructed that one does not eat the popcorn until after the injera. Injera? Appeared before me fresh, fresh injera, followed by shiro and gomen (cooked greens or cabbage). I wasn't hungry, but ate anyway. THEN the popcorn! The coffee was delicious!

Joining us in the coffee ceremony were Adenech's best friend, a high school chemistry teacher at the public school named Abebesh; the renter, Addedesh; Adenech's mother; Ruth, of course, and Habtom; and later, Adenech's husband, Haile Gyorgis.

An English Alive Academy teacher

I learned that this late afternoon meal-coffee is called mextus (or mexta?). I think it is akin to a British high tea. Anyway, we enjoyed a lazy, pleasurable chat in the breezy shade on Adenech's veranda.

Replete with coffee, injera, and popcorn, I made my way back to Azeb's, where I said I couldn't possibly have any dinner.

Ethiopia: Nazret, English Alive Academy

Lazed about all morning, reading mostly, on this school holiday.

After lunch, I walked up to Dire International Hotel for a marathon internet session, uploading more than 100 photos (only 5 at a time possible) and catching up on almost all of my written logs. Ooh, and I paid the price, too! I pay a premium at Dire, for its privacy, proximity to Azeb's, and its comfortable set-up.

Nazret street scenes: 

Imports from Sudan

Juice shop on Nazret's main drag

Tire advertising

Ubiquitous stalled construction - major cement shortage in Ethiopia. Note the garis.

 

Ethiopia: Nazret, Day 6 at the English Alive Academy

Really hard to get up and at 'em this morning. Maybe because no coffee. More likely because I'm kind of fish out of water when it comes to teaching young kids.

I decided I needed to get on the ball with taking photos of the kids at school. These will be key to help people outside Ethiopia make a personal connection with the little ones who could use their help in staying in a good school.

Mekdes

I asked Mekdes, the KG campus director, for permission to take the photos, and she OK'd it. I let her know that when I get home to the U.S., I'll send the prints to the school for distribution to the parents.

Uh, oh. In pulling out my camera, I again generated havoc. There were times when I was literally covered in children, each eager to pose for a pictures. I got many, many good photos. I didn't get any of the nursery kids, though, so I'll do that on Wednesday.

Azeb returned from Addis this morning, and when I came home for lunch, she had prepared the best tibs I'd had anywhere in the country. And, as usual, she prepared coffee in the traditional way, grinding the coffee beans, roasting them, brewing them, and serving the coffee from the traditional jabena.

I was tired, so took a small nap before heading to the Grade 1-4 campus around 2:00 p.m. Azeb also took a nap.

I've become quite the pro at taking the minibus taxis, which run up and down the main thoroughfare. When I take the bus to the Grade 1-4 campus, I call out "WAH-dahch!" when we approach the corner by the Adama Mekonnen Hotel. WAH-dahch means, roughly, "here's my stop!" The bus assistant bangs on the side of the bus outside his window to alert the driver to stop.

At this intersection, there are generally several garis (GAH-rees), which are the horse-and-buggy taxis. They and the little blue tuktuks (bajaj) are only allowed to ply Nazret's side streets.

It cost one birr and 20 cents to ride the blue minibuses. In dollars, this works out to about 13 cents.

I presented an English class to the Grade 1-4 teachers. Then one of the 4th graders, Nahomi, escorted me to Ruth's beauty salon (Adenech's daughter's place) for a hair washing. Nice.

For dessert tonight, Azeb had bought a mango for us to share. Interesting about mangoes: the mango juice I've had in Ethiopia has been delectable - thick and luscious. When I've tried mango in the U.S. a couple of times, I found the texture and flavor completely distasteful. The mango Azeb bought - wow. Had a hint of coconut in the flavor plus the slightest sense of a gritty pear texture, with a soft sweetness in the balance. Azeb said there are several different types of mangoes, and this was number 4. Not sure I understood completely what she was saying. Regardless, this was a hellava mango.

[Here is a beautiful essay on mangoes, at Cock and Bull Stories, written by a Kenyan expat working in Addis.]

Started a book by Kathy Reichs (the Bones TV show catalyst), Deja Dead. Good brain candy.

No school tomorrow, as it's a Muslim holiday celebrating Mohammed's death. Or birth? Yikes, I forget. I'll use the day to upload the kids' photos and get caught up on my trip log emails.