Thursday 22nd July
There’s a first time for everything. Tonight it was hitch-hiking. After an evening at the brewery, me and Sam were faced with a walk of a couple of hours back home, and the prospect of leaving at 6am for our flight to Lalibela. The idea to stick our thumbs out, perhaps a little foolish, was unsuccessful with the first car that drove past. A few minutes later though, on the second attempt, a Land Rover stopped and reversed back to where we were. Despite the fact it was pretty much full before we got in, it delivered us back to the town centre. They even refused to accept any money we offered them, on the basis that we were volunteers and one of the guys had done some work for Link Ethiopia in the past. It renewed our faith in the Ethiopians and was an act of generosity that is certainly very rare back in the UK.
The evening at the brewery had been good fun as well – cheap beer, good food and excellent company. Sefanit, my co-teacher, leaves for Addis this weekend so it was our last night together as a group of six. It’s certainly a night I’ll remember for a long time, and for the right reasons – the gardens of the brewery are beautiful, peaceful and relaxing in contrast to the bustle of the centre of town.
The rest of the day warranted a good night, because it was hard work. Our first class were slow to get going, lacking enthusiasm initially. Perhaps the wet weather was to blame, but they picked up eventually. Fortunately however, the second class were brilliant, and Sefanit got the send-off she deserved.
Another afternoon at the Kindu Trust was once again rewarding. Although it was difficult, being on accounting duties again, it was very satisfying – the work they do is so valuable, and the donations of their sponsors so generous, it’s easy to see just how much of a difference they can make to the lives of vulnerable children. And it’s still so easy to have a kick-about with the kids outside on the street –Sam and I are becoming regular players down there.
Friday 23rd July - Lalibela
We only arrived in Lalibela this afternoon, but it’s fast become clear what a strange place this is. It’s remote: our flight was only 25 minutes from Gondar, but it would have been a day and a half’s drive by road (if ‘road’ is the right term). It’s small: with a population an eighth the size of Gondar, it is very different, and very backward. The place is full of contrasts: even more so than Gondar, because this is a tourist destination of sorts, so there are top hotels (by Ethiopian standards) scattered between mud houses, and the same desperate poverty we’ve seen in every place we’ve been too. But most of all, it’s magnificent: Sam and I wandered around some of the Churches this afternoon and they can only be described as awe-inspiring. Each one has been dug out of the rock, going vertically down through tough volcanic layers. They say Western scholars are confused by how a 12th Century civilisation managed it all, and I can see why.
Because Friday is a fasting day in the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, we didn’t get inside many of the Churches, but the ones we did see are almost as intriguing on the inside as they are outside. And to reach some it is necessary to navigate dark, underground tunnels – we went without a guide, so that was an adventure in itself.
Our room is small, and not particularly well-lit, but it’s clean, and has hot water, so we aren’t complaining! And the hotel we went to for dinner served up one of the best meals we have eaten out here – we could get used to this place. We even met up with Mario, an engineer working for Link Ethiopia here on a project. He’s lived here for several months, so he was able to give us plenty of helpful tips, and told us some things we didn’t know. He told us more about the huge building projects the Chinese are running all over Ethiopia, using Chinese prisoners for labour, and all for a ridiculously low price. Their motive? It’s anyone’s guess, but some think that they’re hoping to make the most of Africa’s natural resources; some think it’s a political tie-up, but who knows?
Tomorrow we’ll have the chance to properly explore the twelve rock-hewn Churches, including the most famous – Bet Gyorgis (dedicated to St George, patron saint of Ethiopia!) – and see how lost we can get in the tunnels.
Saturday 24th July – Lalibela
With only one full day to properly investigate the astounding Churches of Lalibela, it was important to start the day right. So, following a recommendation from Mario, we went to a tiny little restaurant (that looked more like a living room) for breakfast. Despite our initial reservations, we were served up hot honey pancakes and freshly made coffee before heading off on our way.
The day continued to get better when we began with Bet Gyorgis, the most famous rock-hewn Church. It’s easy to see why it’s so famous: the huge cross-shaped Church is beautiful and at the same time impossible to comprehend. How people 800 years ago carved the Church out of the rock with such perfection is beyond me. And to add to the awe, even the interior remains part of the same piece of rock – the churches were built by sculptors, not builders.
Over the following hours, we looked around the other churches, half before lunch and half after. Without a guide, we relied on our guidebook, priests and a bit of luck to find our way around the complex maze of trenches and pitch-black underground tunnels. Somehow though, we managed to find all the Churches, and each one was spectacular in its own way. Once inside, the priests were very obliging to tell us about their Church, and we much preferred giving a small tip at each Church in return, rather than shelling out for a guide. Remarkably, there were hardly any tourists around other than us, and we even avoided too much hassle from locals by pretending to be French, Spanish or Polish at various times. It worked, until we forgot which nationality we were to various people, confusing them as well as us!
Wandering around the small town after our sight-seeing, we were reminded of the poverty that exists side-by-side with the majesty of the town’s attractions. It is hard to understand how a place with such good natural resources (like Gondar, it is incredibly green) and a ready-made tourist draw can still be so backward. Even the shops aimed at tourists – with one enthusiastically called ‘Obama Souvenirs’ – were either empty or closed. It is the low season, but you wonder when the tourism boom will hit.
After a traditional dinner, me and Sam acted on a recommendation in the guidebook, and headed down to a local ‘tej house’. The ‘torpedo tej’ they serve (a honey-wine, like mead) comes in varying strengths and in a curious flask that looks like it’s been stolen from a chemistry lesson. Nevertheless, it is delicious, even if a little potent, so we made an effort to drink in the culture. But it was who we met there that made the night – a guy called Habtamu who manages hotels, and his father. Habtamu entertained us with the most open-minded discussion about politics, religion and society that we’ve heard from any Ethiopian – unfortunately most avoid talking about such things, perhaps out of fear of the ‘elected’ government, or perhaps from ignorance, so it was refreshing to hear an Ethiopian note his disbelief that the ruling party could attain 98.7% of the vote in this May’s elections. His Father was just as entertaining, a man who used to live in Kingston upon Thames in the 1950s. He came up with quotations such as “East or West, Scotch is Best,” “The World is One” and “They didn’t know white people could also be devils.” Tej-induced words of wisdom entertained us all night, and at the end Habtamu offered to show me around Addis, where he lives, when I go next weekend. All in all then, a fantastic day.
Sunday 25th July
There was no way we weren’t going for pancakes again, after yesterday’s delicious serving. The coffee was definitely necessary as well, given the late finish the night before. That would be our last moment in Lalibela though, as we got a taxi to the airport for our flight back home (if we can call Gondar home now). Despite the fact that Lalibela airport handles no more than three flights a day, it was still delayed, but when we got going there were some incredible views from the plane across the 2500m+ hills.
On arriving back at our room, we found that Megan, Sheree and Courtney had made a welcome-back poster, complete with drawings of us and a heartfelt message that may just have had a note of seriousness in it. Maybe two days is a longer time than we thought. In some ways though, they were genuinely glad we were back: Sheree had had a bad experience with a guy and a bajaj, while the others had continued to receive letters or marriage proposals. Megan however, hasn’t been proposed to for at least a week now, so Sam and I are debating who should fill the current lack of sleaze heading her way.
Using the afternoon as a time to relax, Sam and I walked down to the markets, but most of them were closed because it was a Sunday. In true British spirit, we decided to have a beer instead, having chilled out in our room before dinner. Now we’re all back together (minus Sefanit, who’s now on her way back to California), we’re looking forward to our final week as a group, for now at least.
Monday 26th July
Back to school. Monday was once again full to the brim with lessons, and pretty non-stop, but fulfilling because of it. Despite a drizzly and dark morning, the first two classes picked up after inevitably slow starts. The better weather in the afternoon, combined with the reassuring enthusiasm of the post-lunch class, added some substance to our theories that the students only work well when the sun shines.
In between the two shifts, I went for lunch at the house of one of my students, Berhanu. Along with Getamsa and Amanuel, also students of mine, and the whole of Berhanu’s family, they laid on injera with shiro (chickpea sauce), tibs (meat stew), cabbage, Ethiopian pizza (not really pizza in any way) and popcorn, of course. Rounded off with coffee, I waddled back to class having heard all about the dying Ethiopian tradition of arranged marriages. None of them were too upset to see the tradition fade away, if I’m honest.
After a short trip to the markets for presents and some mighty fine haggling, I wandered up to my teaching venue for the evening, Getu’s language school. Despite the standard of the teacher’s English being a little suspect (‘unforgettable’ became ‘nonforgettable’, and ‘never’ became ‘niver’), it was good fun, and an experience teaching such a large group. While it’s great that kids have the opportunity to learn all through their summer vacation, an important point has to be raised about the teaching. Judging by the standard of English of the two Ethiopian teachers I’ve taught with, and the incorrect English sometimes common to all students (‘before one year’ instead of ‘one year ago’, etc.) points to the need for more native English speakers in the education system here. I remember as well how difficult it was initially to understand the accent they speak English with. But it’s hardly surprising when you realise that these students have been taught by Ethiopian teachers with flawed English, who themselves have been taught by Ethiopian teachers with flawed English: in such a system, mistakes will accumulate and be learnt as true English. The result is a form of English that although understandable, is very different to what you would hear in the UK, USA, Australia or even from most Europeans speaking English as a second language. It gets them through their exams, but whether it gets them anywhere in the world remains to be seen.
Tuesday 27th July
It is amazing how quickly the end has come around: today I reconfirmed my flight to Addis, and we planned out the last few days we’ll spend together as a group. It’s made me realised that I really wish I was staying for longer, too. The town does have a homely feel about it now – whether from the feeling of safety we have, or from how we’ve grown to be regulars at various cafés, or the suspicious way most people seem to know who you are, even if you’ve never met them before (but I guess I stand out a bit).
That aside, today was another day, with lessons this morning and a session at the Kindu Trust this afternoon. The lessons could not have gone better. My first group are my most difficult; sometimes lacking enthusiasm, sometimes lacking in understanding. But today they excelled: the activities we did were difficult and challenging, but they really surprised me and perhaps themselves too. It meant we were in the wonderful position of having seen noticeable progress in the space of just one lesson, and even more when put in the perspective of where they were at the start of the course. The second group were excellent as well, true to form, and so I was in a good mood for the rest of the day.
At Kindu, I visited a young girl called Tesfalem. She’s an orphan – her parents died from AIDS – and she is HIV positive herself. In the care of a foster family, she has no living relatives. Unfortunately, both of her foster are also HIV positive, and the mud-house they live in merely contributed to a family life in dire need of the generous support they are receiving from the Kindu Trust and their sponsor. I took the opportunity to give them a hand-knitted blanket from Paula Walker and friends, which they were very appreciative of: when her parents are out working, Tesfalem cares for younger children in the family, and makes them tea. It might be my last home visit with Kindu, but it still feels strange when they are so appreciative and happy to see you: the sponsors are the people who really deserve medals, and in a sense I’m just lucky enough to be able to see the consequences of their generous aid.
As we pondered our stays over dinner, myself and Sheree both agreed that we would love to be here for longer. Courtney is lucky enough to be here for seven more weeks, and is finally starting the bulk of her project work with the Sister Cities Foundation. We’ve all thought about coming back too, and I guess one day I will.
Wednesday 28th July
‘This is Africa’. That was the excuse I heard several times during a frustrating morning. When I arrived at my classroom as usual, in order to teach my normal 9am class, I was surprised to find a lesson already going on. Perturbed, confused and irritated, I went to see the school director. It’s worth explaining that the students I teach do not come from the same school as the one where our classroom is – their school is too far away in the rainy season. Anyway, the director said that there were no classrooms available as of today, due to a new set of English classes being run by students from the local university. Rather rudely, he told us to find another school, as 30 of my students waited outside in the rain.
With the help of Belayneh and several phone calls, we established that there was no other classroom in the area available (this is their summer holidays!), but that we could use our normal classroom in the afternoons. That means squeezing three 90 minute classes into two hour-long classes, which isn’t ideal, but it’s only for two more days.
While my first class was too big to do anything with, my second class is smaller. So when they arrived on time, with no classroom for them to go into, we decided to innovate. For today then, my bedroom became a classroom. With students sat on the floor and books perched on the bed, we did as much as we could. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing – and we had a good laugh about it too. Like they told me, ‘This is Africa’.
With a bumped-sized afternoon class, I was nervous about what to do. But with an activity involving students coming up with their own adverts, we had a great time. There were some particularly hilarious ones, and some downright silly ones too, but the English was good so I can’t complain!
After school I went to have coffee at one of my student’s houses – Miru. Aside from the fleas, I was kept company by Amy and Emily, two girls from Bristol who had been Link Ethiopia volunteers two years previously. They are on the last leg of a journey from Namibia to Ethiopia which has taken them five months so far. As we shared stories, it seems as though Gondar isn’t much different now to what it was then, in both good and bad ways. Funnily enough, Amy is going to university in Wycombe next year, and has family down the road from me, in Gerrards Cross. Small world.
And it was again time to attempt cooking at home, as we all went round to Megan’s and huddled into the tiny kitchen there. Pasta with tomato sauce, bananas, cake and biscuits, and a bottle of Ethiopian red wine gave us one of the tastiest, and cheapest (if it’s possible for food to get cheaper!) meals we’ve had out here. After the frustration of the morning, the rest of the day just fitted into place perfectly.
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