Habesha Christmas
In the two and a bit years that we have been writing this blog, the more assiduous of you will have noted, amongst other things, that the Ethiopian and European (or Julian and Gregorian) calendars do not match. For instance, the Ethiopian New Year is celebrated on 12 September. However, Ethiopia is a largely christian country, and the big religious festivals happen around the same time under both calendars.
Here, they celebrate Genna (Christmas) on 7 January and Timket (Epiphany) on 19/20 January. This blog will be divided into 2 parts, one for Lalibela and the other for Gonder, since the photos (if not my commentary on them) are worth two entries. For those of you with a short attention span, just look at the pictures.
So, to start with Lalibela, another thing that regular readers will have noticed, when I (John) get my hands on this blog, is that my attitude to the Ethiopian Orthodox Church is not unequivocally positive (spot the litotes). I may have mentioned the cacophony with which our sleeping and waking lives have been regularly punctuated for the last two and a bit years by the church’s escalating attempt to assert its supremacy over its religious neighbours/competitors (and Ethiopian minds). There are other factors, but this is probably not the place to explore my rising misecclesia (as far as I can tell, a neologism), which is not attributable to noise pollution alone, but many other egregious characteristics of organised religion, both here and elsewhere…
So with that attitude, why, you may ask, travel to Lalibela to watch (and hear) this climacteric of the orthodox year? Well, because though Christmas is a big deal in every city, town and community in Ethiopia, the ultimate place to witness it is Lalibela. And this was our third January in this fascinating country. And Barbara’s sister Pat and two very good friends from Toulouse were here, and you kind of want your visitors to experience something special. And the church complexes of Lalibela are, well – to employ a much abused superlative – awesome, with their eleven massive, yet almost etherial, sunken monoliths. If you want the history, Wikipedia can enlighten you.
This is pilgrimage time. Many Ethiopians come here for Genna, most on foot, many without shoes. In a country where most people don’t have much, these pilgrims are offered food and shelter along the way and at their arrival in Lalibela. Considering that it is one of Ethiopia’s prime tourist destinations, it has something of the feel of a one-hoss town – dusty, semi-paved streets, nothing much in terms of infrastructure and retail opportunities, though a handful of fairly smart – and at Christmas in particular – exorbitantly expensive hotels, many with fantastic far-reaching views. For the pilgrims, an empty area near the church complexes is turned into a camping ground. No four-season, erect-on-the-summit-of-Everest, kevlar fibre tents here. People wrap their cloaks around them and lie on the bare rock. They cook on fires, or on small charcoal stoves, as do most Ethiopians in their homes.
The atmosphere of anticipation and excitement was palpable. Those who live far away will probably make this journey only once. The desire for souvenirs and mementos seems to be a universal one, and ornate church umbrellas and crooks, crosses, clothes and images were spread around for sale. In the meantime, the first of the services was already underway, featuring the patriarch, head of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, and the famous gold Lalibela cross, stolen a few years ago but now recovered. Some Ethiopians looked around the churches; others, probably exhausted and hungry, claimed their place to settle down and rest until the night time services began. One suspects that the scene would have been pretty much the same anytime in the 900 years or so since the churches were built…
Pat, with the help of our guide, took the opportunity to find out how far people had come. The first girl, shoeless apart from a rag tied around her club foot, had arrived after 35 days of walking. Another family brought a Genna marvel: when our guide Hailu, an orphan, went over to interpret for Pat and a family she had engaged with and established which far-flung village they had come from, it emerged that they were relatives of his father, had known Hailu when he was a baby, but had lost touch when his father was killed during the overthrow of the Derg. A privileged moment of reunion to share.

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The cost of visiting the churches is $50 a head (for tourists). This is a lot of money, though for the serious explorer, it gives you access for 5 days. Plus the guide’s fee… Anyway, also not the place to discuss Ethiopia’s kill-the-goose approach to its fledgeling tourist industry… After previous will we/won’t we noises from the guide about evening plans, we were abruptly whisked away from dinner at Scottish Susan’s splendid folly, the Ben Abeba restaurant (another story in a country full of stories), to attend the evening services at Bet Maryam (literally, Mary’s house), thought to be the oldest of Lalibela’s churches. Dinner had included liberal doses of South African wine and, in my case at least, a digestif or two, so it was somewhat alarming to find that the congregation for the night-time service was gathered on the uneven cliffs overlooking the sunken church 10 metres below. When I say congregation, don’t get the idea of neat rows of pews – just people standing, squatting or lying wherever there was some spare rock surface, and the only light from flickering candles. If we stumbled, a friendly hand would reach out of the piles of white clad bodies to steady us and haul us back from what, in the dim light, seemed like the abyss…
It was frightening, but also awe-inspiring and strangely moving. Down below, in the vast pit of rock out of which the church was carved, the men in frocks chanted and danced and swayed and drummed and shook their rattles, and the seemingly random amalgam of rituals, along with its rapt and silent audience, temporarily became something more than the expression of an alien rite in this millennial theatre of hewn granite.

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The ceremony was set to run all night, but we made our way back to the hotel, lurching through the sea of bodies like paddlers on a reef, ready for the main event and a 5am start. This main event was, to me at least, something of a challenge. A return to the same place, an hour-long gradual press forward amidst a mass of standing people, alertness for the wandering hands of pickpockets, the inevitable power cut temporarily dousing the lights, nervousness about the possibility of stampede, loudspeakers blaring out words incomprehensible not just to us, but to all around us (since services are delivered in a language called Ge’ez, spoken only by priests), the gradual lightening of the sky, the final emergence of the men in frocks into the morning sun on the cliffs above the church… Dramatic, picturesque, spectacular.

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A final word: another memory amongst many is of the kindness to strangers – essentially voyeurs in one of Ethiopia’s holiest places and at one of its holiest times – of these masses of people. Apart from the steadying hands, there was the readiness to make way, to enter into conversation, the curiosity about us, the warnings about thieves, the helping word of translation, the humour and patience. Ethiopia and Ethiopians at their best.

When you start out doing VSO you feel a bit like an explorer discovering new places, seeing things that few have seen before and some start off wishing to “change the world”. That’s a huge misconception. The truth is that it’s all new for you. Others from numerous walks of life have gone before, whether as volunteers or working for any number of organisations. Since we’ve been here, we’ve met quite a few who’ve been before.
December 5th is “International Volunteers day”, so we were involved with big celebrations throughout the town. In this blog, I’d like to celebrate the work of an ex VSO.
Richard is an Assistant Head teacher from the UK. When he was in his thirties he volunteered with VSO – that was about 12 years ago. He actually worked at my office, the REB, and created an IT network which we still use, hooray. That was the start of a long and continuing relationship with Ethiopia.
One significant project he initiated was the creation of a centre for homeless street children, the “New Day Children’s Centre”. Anyone who has visited Ethiopia will be aware of the poverty and struggle for basic survival. Richard recognised this and as a result established the centre. It’s not a home, nor a school, but gives whole care. Young people, usually homeless or orphans, are supported with shelter, food and education. The staff seek out families who will give bed space to a child, whilst the centre provides 2/3 meals a day and boosts their English by giving supplementary English lessons. Katy, my VSO Education Bureau colleague and office share, whose role is to develop English, has worked on the English teaching program at the centre too.
An important spin-off of the centre is the sense of “community” the children feel by having a family peer group to share their lives and common experiences with. It’s a bit like a home combined with a youth club – and somewhere to find a table and chair to do your homework. It‘s holistic care – there’s a counsellor and medical support too.
The centre is currently located in a couple of houses with tree shaded gardens – and about 500 meters from where we are living now. Rents here have risen, so the plan is to move and build new premises on land allocated by the municipality. Richard took a year out from his assistant head teacher post last year to be in Bahir Dar and be in a better position to move things on. The land has been granted, but there’s still a long way to go. Again the complexities of Ethiopian bureaucracy are holding things up in the final stages.
When we’ve visited we have been really impressed with the quality of care the centre provides and the sense of place and pride in the place the students have. Their English is great too. A challenge is when they leave school and fend for themselves. We came across one of their ex-students quite by chance. Bahir Dar is the Bajaj (tuktuk) capital of Ethiopia. There are hundreds swarming through the streets, driven with varying degrees of safety. After our Bajaj accident in Mekelle we are now quite nervous passengers. One day, when we hadn’t been here long, we hailed a Bajaj randomly in the street and were impressed with how well the driver drove and how pleasant he was. He is now our regular driver. It turned out he is a former “New Day Children’s Centre” student and we are really pleased to give him our custom. His efforts to learn English well and treat foreigners with courtesy paid off.

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We recently attended a special event at the Centre to celebrate the graduation of some of the students (one of them was Abraha the Bajaj driver). It was a delightful evening with food and entertainment provided by the students. One of the girls has a beautiful voice and her unaccompanied singing is haunting and magnificent (see video).
The centre is best described by the students. The website includes some short videos. An introductory one is found through this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=00HuS_kSNM0
Other videos and further information can be seen through the website http://www.ndccethiopia.org.uk/ By the way, the Bajaj driver wearing a red shirt in one of the videos, is Abraha, our driver. Although by then we knew Richard, we’d no idea we were riding in the Centre’s Bajaj!
Of course a centre like this needs support. Our last two sets of visitors have both supported it. One family, with two teenage children, brought a bag of good quality clothes they’d outgrown, which was very well received. Another generously gave a cash donation, through the website.
If anyone would like to donate, the donation would go directly to where it is needed and to a centre we can vouch for. Also, clothes especially for teenagers, are very much appreciated. Clothes donations could be sent to the centre by posting them to our post box which is John Crisp, PO Box 1595, Bahir Dar, Ethiopia.
Happy Christmas Everybody, from Bahir Dar, which is where we’ll be spending our third Christmas in Ethiopia!

Cats, dogs, hyenas and other fauna…
In our two years in Mekelle, the nocturnal soundscape was dominated by two characteristic types of din. The first was the chanting of the priests, massively magnified and further distorted by loudspeakers (see rant in earlier blog – I’m under strict orders not to repeat it…). Infinitely more pleasant and tuneful, at least to my ears, was the nightly point/counterpoint of the dogs and hyenas. The dogs would bark and howl, the hyenas hoot and ululate. Those priests could have learned a thing or two about melody and harmony… (sorry, sorry). In the morning, those same dogs whose ferocious voices had split the night like some canine coven would be lying, quiet, cuddly and comatose, lining the pavements.
As for daytime, anyone who has travelled in Ethiopia will be used to sharing the road, the sidewalk and every other space, urban or rural, with quadrupeds of all kinds, vertical and horizontal, from donkey to dog. Pets, on the other hand, are another matter. People keep cats after a fashion, feeding them the odd scrap, but in return they are expected to keep down rats and mice (and repel the dreaded muchew, a mysterious cat-sized garden predator of which people speak with bated breath). Dogs are never pets.
Ferenjis have a different take, a fact which the local cats in Mekelle quickly discovered. Around the end of our first year in Mekelle, a clearly flea infested feline appeared with a broken leg. Big moral dilemma… Well not really. Scruff, as he quickly became known for obvious reasons, became the best fed cat in Mekelle (living primarily on a diet of tinned tuna mixed with bread), though his rivals/hangers on – respectively and eponymously christened Squawk, Squeak and Scrapper – were always ready for pickings from the rich cat’s table. If we were careless enough to leave a door open and turn our backs, it was not uncommon to find one of any four cats insouciantly curled up on a bed, pillow or sofa, generously sharing its fleas. Shabby as he was, and initially feral, Scruff became quite domesticated, and it was a wrench when we had to leave him for our move to Bahir Dar…

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Here, a new experience awaited us. We had been warned that our VSO predecessors, Caz and Crawford, had adopted a puppy. They no doubt faced the same life-and-death moral dilemma as we had with Scruff… Nala, as they christened her, was at the house we were moving to. However, we have no experience of raising a dog and it is clear that Caz and Crawford were in a similar position, and had espoused a 1960s unconditional love, what’s mine is yours, discipline is so uncool kind of approach to her training regime. So far, our attempts to mitigate the results have been largely unsuccessful: Nala doesn’t seem to have read Pavlov.
To be fair, most of the time she is lovely to be with… Just occasionally, her exuberance gets the better of her as she mistakes your leg for a rubber bone.
There are a number of challenges to raising a dog in Ethiopia, especially if you don’t know much about dogs. Firstly, there is no such thing as dog food. Nala essentially lives on a diet of the local staple injera, or bread, soaked in water, with the occasional sprinkling of any protein that happens to be available (raw/cooked meat, cheese rind, scrambled egg,…) plus vegetable leftovers. We suspect that this is not a balanced diet, but Royal Canin reps are thin on the ground.
Secondly, with all the stray dogs around, we decided with some trepidation to have her spayed. The trepidation seemed justified: the operation took place on a Sunday afternoon in our yard, on an old cable reel that serves as our best coffee table, with myself and a young Ethiopian friend assisting. Barbara had retired behind a net curtain. The “vets” we found out later, were respectively an engineer and a lawyer. The amount of anaesthetic was estimated, not all that accurately since she seemed to half wake up in the course of the operation. Despite all this, and despite her staggering around after the operation splay legged like Bambi in the Disney movie, the next morning, when somebody had the temerity to come near our front gate at 6.00 a.m., she was bouncing around and barking on the other side. We then realised that there is no such thing here as a “lampshade collar” (to prevent her pulling out her own stitches), so Barbara improvised something with a luxury airline neck cushion (a tasteful mauve in colour). Remarkably, she wore this without any protest for the necessary two weeks, and indeed seemed somewhat forlorn when it was removed.

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On our last visit to the UK, we bought an extendable lead from the UK, as Nala wouldn’t accept an ordinary lead, and we now elicit a mixture of derision and fear in the neighbourhood as we steer her through throngs of people, animals and in particular children, whose first instinct, annoyingly though perhaps understandably, is to throw stones at her. The stray dogs seem to have absolutely no interaction with people (except when occasional culls are carried out using poisoned meat), so a dog on a lead is perceived as a greater threat than one wandering unattached.

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We suspect that the big challenge will come when we finally leave Ethiopia. We know that it was hard for Caz and Crawford. Will we be able to leave Nala? There are kind Ethiopian friends who will look after her, but all the same… On the other hand, a fortune in freight costs and 6 months of quarantine…

The views expressed in this blog are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of VSO.

Our two years in Mekelle came to an end in August. Despite ups and downs, we felt lucky being in Mekelle and Ethiopia. So much so that we signed up for another year here–this time in Bahir Dar.
Mekelle was a good place to be and, compared with some of the remote placements, a relatively easy place to settle into. There were adjustments – how we spend our time, what we eat /drink, no long summer evenings, but no long cold winter nights either. Work has always been a challenge, but with enough positives to balance it out. A big positive of Mekelle was the people.  Being a University town and regional capital, it draws people from all over the world. Friends and acquaintances come from different parts of Ethiopia, USA, Holland, Israel, Sweden, Germany and India as well as the VSO mix of Irish, Canadian/Ethiopian diaspora and other Brits doing a range of other things from building schools, running circus workshops, farming and volunteering in small NGOs. And of course John has joined the “Brits doing farming” group with the dairy he and a group of Ethiopians are working on.

What next then? Having great tenants in our house in the UK made us think it would be stupid to go through the disruption of going back, then leaving again, if that was what we’d decided to do. But no real plan came to mind. Being able to see the sea would be welcome, maybe a grey gap – Australia etc. Timing for John was bad – leaving the dairy at a critical time, so when VSO came up with a placement in “the Riviera of Ethiopia” Bahir Dar, that was the answer. By the way, Bahir Dar means the shore of the Sea, that’s Lake Tana and it’s huge. Since the decision, life has been incredibly busy and remains so.

Colleagues in Mekelle gave me a good send-off and I left them with pages of suggestions as to how to improve teacher attitude and motivation (an uphill struggle I think).

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Outside work, life generally was a stream of welcomes and leaving dos. Some of our friends had already left, newcomers were just arriving, so it was our Ethiopian friends (who don’t get globetrotting opportunities) who were the main ones to say goodbye. After a great summer break (Tanzanian Safari and Zanzibar – direct flights from AddisJ) with Pat and her John, it was time to move on.

Inevitably we’ve accumulated quite a lot of stuff (a bookshelf and bicycle as well as the rest!). Also, Ephrem, our wonderful friend and landlord for the past 18 months had to move some of his furniture out too, so it was quite chaotic.

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Although August is the rainy season we decided to combine visits and sightseeing with a four day road trip, south then west to Bahir Dar. Our first destination was a farm in the Rift Valley managed by an English guy called Peter. We’d randomly met him on a Mekelle/Addis flight and were fascinated hearing about the farm. It’s massive (1000 ha), has Indian owners and produces vegetables entirely for the UK market. It raised all sorts of culturally and economically complex and sensitive questions. Should land be granted to foreigners to produce food none of which goes to local markets or to feed local people? Should fences be erected in the way of regular thoroughfares? Should the water table be further lowered to grow food for export…? We saw the crops (mainly onions and squash) and witnessed a meeting with the local cattle farmers. Peter is trying to extend benefits to the local community in addition to providing employment and had offered grazing on parts of the land. He hadn’t expected 2000 cattle to turn up and was in the process of negotiating a more manageable number! We had a muddy and great evening with him and his key staff, a Kenyan and Ethiopian guy.

The next day was the one we feared – dull and raining for the drive from the Rift Valley back up to the mountains. It should have been spectacular. Actually it was spectacular going through thick cloud/fog with zero visibility on winding unsurfaced mountain roads knowing there were huge drops, especially when we met a bus towering down on us (these “buses” are actually open backed Isuzu trucks. The local nickname for them is ‘Al Quaeda’ because they travel by night and are responsible for a lot of road deaths).

It was market day at Maichew, the next town, and still raining. It’s amazing how you can deceive yourself into thinking country life is an idyll when you see it in sunshine. The same scene in the rain looks anything but. People still take their goods to market, and tramp slipping and sliding barefoot (any shoes you might have would be lost in the mud), weighed down by sodden clothes and sacks of grain tied to their backs.  Few have the opportunity to travel by vehicle, so our four-wheel-drive stuffed with more possessions than most local people have in a lifetime, with the bicycle tied to the front like a mascot, was an embarrassment at times.

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We’d hoped to stop by a lake, but the weather forced us to change plans and we continued to Woldia, further south, about halfway between Mekelle and Bahir Dar. We booked into a hotel and checked things were in working order. Our main grumbles – extra light bulbs needed, you could hardly see it was so dimly lit, then had to change room as the shower head flew off as soon as we turned it on.

Having found ourselves in Woldia we met up with Aisling, a young Irish VSO volunteer there. She put us in the picture about electricity and water (a sobering reality check for us after our grumbles). The whole town had been without mains water for five weeks and electricity for three; we’d arrived on the first day for both. No surprise then that the room looked dim and running water was clearly a shock for the shower! The staff had responded politely and calmly to our requests – no “you don’t know how lucky you are…..” retorts at all.

The next day was sunny so Aisling joined us for a trip further south to Lake Hayk. Hayk means lake in the local language, so we’d gone to Lake lake or Hayk hayk! Barbecued fish sitting by the hayk/lake was the order of the day and a real treat. The final day was also sunny so the 8-9 hours from Woldia to Bahir Dar were magnificent with fantastic mountain scenery throughout, magnificently green after the rains. It included a meeting with an Australian guy, who has long-standing connections with Ethiopia and described locally as the pre Bob Geldolf aid worker – now running a charity providing wheelchairs in Mekelle.

Now the going back!

We had 2/3 days to unpack in Bahir Dar, before flying straight back to Mekelle. “Ashenda” is celebrated in the north of Ethiopia at the end of August and friends insisted we witness it. We’d no idea what to expect  but been told that girls dress up, make themselves look really beautiful,  then go round town asking men for money. We weren’t sure about this. Apparently, in times past the money was given to the church, but more recently not. The photos partly tell the story. Given that white is the colour for most “occasion wear” it was such a contrast to see so much colour. Some also add accessories like shoes, headbands and waist scarves and to complete the outfit lovely hairdos, all looking very beautiful – with masses of make up too. The advice to local men is not to propose at Ashenda, because all the women look so beautiful. 

Before we’d even left the airport we met our first group of girls, chanting and singing and beating a large drum. Such groups were everywhere. The car couldn’t pull up by our hotel as it must have been 20-30 deep with different “girl groups” spilling onto the road. Friends’ children feature in the photos. The whole Ashenda celebration lasts 3 days and it was great to see the girls happy and independent. It is just a pity that this celebration is when the rains are at their height, so their lovely dresses frequently got soaked and muddy.

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But, the final word on “moving on” should go to Kat Lloyd, a self funded volunteer who worked at the Mekelle charity, “Mums for Mums” last year and her film-making friend Mark Baron (website http://www.markbaron.co.uk). He put together a record of their journey from Mekelle to Bahir Dar last summer. It also includes Addis in the post Meles’ death days and those who love the Gheralta will recognise some of the shots.  Click here: http://vimeo.com/65929937 – A short film chronicling my visit to Northern Ethiopia.

We really did move on from Mekelle after Ashenda. First, back to the UK for 10 days, great, but not really long enough, then Ethiopia again ready for “New Year 2006” in mid September and ready to start the new job in Bahir Dar. 

The views expressed in this blog are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of VSO.

A Gender Project
One of the most satisfying programs I worked on in Mekelle was a gender project – it goes back a while now. I enjoyed it so much was because I was involved from the very beginning through to the end – well almost to the end. More on that later. The aim: to improve the success of girls at university by reducing the drop-out rate in the first year. We were able to do it because a UK friend celebrated March 8th International Women’s day with a fundraising event.
Having made the decision to do the project, I found a few likely people to share ideas with then made the outline plan. Also, I found some statistics and interesting background information. Some facts:
• At least 25% of girls drop out of university in Ethiopia (compared to 8% of boys), with the majority leaving during the first year;
• Girls represent only 25.6% of the University student population in the first year (fewer in later years).
The people involved were the Head of Gender at the Regional Education Bureau, (REB), our friend Mitiku, a lecturer at the University, the Head of Women’s Affairs at Mekelle University, Abraha my translator and Jackie Hoskins friend of VSO in Pangbourne, UK, who led fund raising. Transition from high school to university to improve preparation for university was the target area.
The first step was to identify the challenges. There is quite a lot of reading material available on this subject with some quite shocking statistics. Problems ranged from derision by male peers and staff, sexual harassment, unwanted pregnancy and rape. Girls were accused of sleeping with the lecturers if they got good grades – not altogether without foundation in some cases where I’ve heard the expression “sexually transmitted grades”. The final year of school and first year at university are the years when most rapes are reported (how many are not reported?). Girls are particularly vulnerable when walking long distances from home to school and also at university, especially when unreliable electricity plunges the areas into darkness. In these cases, perpetrators cannot be identified because of lack of light.
Other factors that cause girls to drop out include lack of self confidence in their own ability, lack of appropriate guidance and counselling services, lack of teacher support, anxiety, poor time management, weak academic background, homesickness and economic problems. Lack of self confidence in own ability and weak academic background can sometimes be attributed to the policy of “affirmative action”. This means that the entrance requirement for girls is lower than for boys. This can lead to frustration all round and explains some of the derision. The girls feel out of their depth, the male students don’t like the inequality and the lecturers have a broader academic range to teach. Having said all that, many higher education institutes provide support and clubs once the girls are at university. Our plan was to better prepare them before they go and hopefully to avoid some of the issues encountered in the early days.
We asked current first year students at Mekelle University to identify areas they themselves found challenging in their first year, then asked them to suggest training priorities for future students. This is what they came up with:
Challenges noted by First year female University students:
• Homesickness (missing family)
• Financial difficulties
• English language difficulty (the working language is English – the idea is to prepare students for the international context)
• Academic difficulties (linked with affirmative action)
• Pressure from family.
It would be interesting to know if these would appear on the any list drawn up by UK students. It was also interesting to see that the challenges they identified themselves were different from the training recommendations they made. It was suggested that the girls might be intimidated by the possibility that their lecturers could have access to their questionnaire responses – I would do that bit differently another time
Training priorities suggested by First Year University students:
• Assertiveness (against intimidation by family, staff or peer pressure)
• Assertiveness (against sexual harassment by students or staff)
• Self-esteem and confidence building
• Time management
• HIV/AIDS awareness and prevention
• Hygiene
Once focus areas were agreed we set about the logistics of the training including the number of sessions, timing, number of students, venue, trainers and refreshments – to come within budget.
We invited two Lecturers from the University to lead the training and drew up a programme relevant to the key areas raised. Also two current students from the University were there for a final Q and A session. It was great that all schools who were asked wanted to take part and all but one of the invited girls attended. We kept the contact details of girls and intend to follow up their progress in one year’s time.
Whilst we were happy with the program overall I wasn’t entirely satisfied. The girls we trained this time were all from Mekelle – a regional capital which provides exposure to “city life” and access to many things not found in the country. The contrast between the two lifestyles is such that any girl with the ability to do well at university but from a rural background would encounter so many more challenges. If I could continue this work, I would want to offer some sort of preparation to girls from the country too.
Although I said this was one of the best projects I worked on, as luck would have it I ended up being double booked for the actual training day. I was really disappointed as out of all the things I’d done, this was really my baby but I was also supposed to be in Addis for a different meeting. I was torn, until I decided to nominate someone to take my place at the gender session. That person was John! He looked more than a bit shocked when I asked him, particularly at a “gender” session. Is it really appropriate to send a man in your place? But he went along with it and it was great for me to have his first-hand feedback. It also explains why the photos include him whilst I’m nowhere to be seen!

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And so, just before the last words – from a man – thanks again to Jackie Hoskins and her friends whose fundraising made the event possible!

Gender Project – John’s experience
Yes, well, when Barbara found she was double booked (volunteer committee in Addis and gender project in Mekelle) and asked me to stand in for the latter, I was a little discombobulated. I don’t really do public stuff, and it was a whole Saturday, and I wouldn’t understand anything, and it was for girls and I’m a boy, and… suffice it to say, I agreed willingly. I’m glad I did.
The event began in the time-honoured Ethiopian way, approximately 1.5 hours late, as the girls trickled in from their different parts of town. But in the end, they did all turn up, which was a nice surprise. It was introduced by the Head of Curriculum at the Regional Education Bureau, Ato Bahta, who spoke eloquently and at length, in Tigrinya. I understood the words “Miss Barbara”, which recurred with gratifying frequency. Miss Barbara had prepared a short speech in English for me to deliver after him. To save time, I delivered the first section in English, translated by her friend, colleague and translator Abraha, who then delivered the rest in Tigrinya.
Formalities over, the workshop proper began with each of the 35 girls introducing herself briefly and stating her life ambitions. I didn’t do an exact count, but I would say that 80% wanted to be doctors or engineers. Anecdotally, the impression we have is that engineering is nothing like as gendered in Ethiopia as in the West.
The workshop leader for the morning (a lecturer from the university’s psychology department) then began proceedings with something relatively unusual in Ethiopia, group work. The girls were divided into four mixed-school groups and asked to nominate a “leader” and prepare presentations on a set of topics relating to their experience of school and their expectations of higher education. After 30 minutes or so of preparation, each group produced a written summary of their discussions, which were then presented by the group representatives.
This was the bit I found remarkable. Four girls aged 17/18, 30 minutes of preparation, no notes, approximately 10 minutes of continuous, relaxed, fluent and (presumably) coherent talk, followed by interventions of equal fluency (and presumably coherence) from the floor, followed by responses… Two of the girls were astonishing, the other two merely brilliant. If capacity for self-expression is associated with empowerment, these girls at least don’t need gender projects. More seriously, it was another indication, perhaps, that Ethiopia remains in many ways an oral rather than a writing culture. Of course the girls who opted to speak were a self-selecting group, but I suspect that this kind of fluency and confidence would be rare to find in a similar selection of teenagers in the UK (girls or boys).
This took us up to lunch. The afternoon’s proceedings, with a different leader, were more conventional, with chalk and talk on different aspects of the university experience, followed by Q&A. My understanding was largely confined to a few key words like “alcohol, drugs, sex, condoms, AIDS, Facebook…”, which were clear enough clues to the content of the exposition. Be careful with Facebook, everyone – you start with FB, and you’re soon on to harder stuff…
For the final session, two female university students (fluent and confident, of course) joined us to talk about their own experience and take questions. The exchanges were lively and full of laughter, with a lot of focus on self-assertion, confidence, self-respect… One of the students spoke about her realisation that if a boy asked her to go for a walk with him, she was perfectly entitled to say no…
Embarrassingly, I hadn’t anticipated that “Mr John” would be asked to say a few words at the end. Had I been Ethiopian, I would no doubt have held them all spellbound for at least 15 minutes, but all I managed was “thank you for coming” in two languages. The audience was clearly disappointed, and I thought of all sorts of clever and inspiring things I might have said, but unfortunately a day late…

The views expressed in this blog are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of VSO

Weekend walks
One thing VSO advised us to think about before we left the UK was how we’d spend our time when we can’t do the things we did at home? There are no leisure activities like cinema and theatre, no gyms, swimming pools, sports clubs, pub lunches, retail therapy or family to visit. We don’t have a vehicle, don’t drive, and it’s difficult to get about unless you are prepared to risk the vagaries of local transport on the unpredictable roads, or hire a car and driver (which we do when we have visitors – hooray!).
The weekend is the time when this comes home to us most.
One thing we can do is walk up the hill behind the house. It’s not a beautiful walk. The view over the sprawling, dusty industrial areas of Mekelle, amidst sparse, water-starved vegetation, isn’t exactly a breathtaking panorama. Nonetheless, it is a walk that we have come to enjoy.
Mekelle has become a big city. But we are on one edge of it, and it is only a 10 minute step from our house out of urban Ethiopia, past the churches and into the rural scenes of flat-roofed stone hidmo houses and traditional local life. Up the hill are rows of tiny, thatched, open-work huts, the dormitories of the seminary where the young priests train.
The houses disappear, and the track snakes its way upwards. First, we have our gym equivalent! The path is steep, so we start with an excellent cardio workout. It’s a good feeling to get to the top and look back over town. We’ve been here nearly two years and there are still a few landmarks we can’t identify.
From the top we have the choice of heading off across the plateau or taking an alternative route back to town. My favourite is across the plateau. There is usually a cool breeze, great after the heat of climbing the hill, and a feeling of openness and freedom.
Up on the plateau are hamlets and a path which takes you back in time. It’s used by the local people to get down to town, either on their own or with their animals. We can’t have proper conversations but they seem pleased to see us. Often it’s just a “kemay” or “dehan do” greeting, but sometimes a bit more. Last Sunday, a man stopped to speak. We could work out roughly what he said by the gestures but translation from an Ethiopian friend with us confirmed he wanted us to get him some new teeth, he’d clearly lost his front ones! Most Ethiopians have beautiful teeth. Instead of a toothbrush they chew a twig (eucalyptus for the basic, olive for the top of the range) which gives them perfectly white teeth and no need for a dentist, apparently for a lifetime. The next generation may not be so lucky, as sweets and soft drinks are creeping into the shops.
The area is agricultural, but there’s much evidence of its volcanic past, which makes farming difficult. The huge boulders would render machinery useless; the old ploughing methods with oxen are still best on this terrain. Although we have seen farm machinery in southern Ethiopia, the ox and the donkey are the tractors of Tigray. We see young girls heaving sacks, collecting cowpats for cooking fuel; the boys help herd the cattle and other animals and both help with the harvest . There are clusters of strongly built stone houses, some with sloping, corrugated iron roofs which, though less attractive than the traditional flat earth roof, are preferred for their greater resistance to the elements.

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Each walk is different, and that’s to do with time of year, what we see and whom we meet. Earlier in the year we were surprised to find a new waterhole for cattle, and nearby a pump for domestic water. Until then, the nearest water had been a shallow river a 2 mile round trip away. Now there was great activity and excitement around the pump, as the photos show. It means a shorter journey carrying the heavy containers and less passing bowls up from the remains of a mostly dried up stream.
Unfortunately, there was no activity by the pump last week (it was broken) so they were back to scooping water for themselves and their cattle from deep down in the waterhole. Much harder work. The heavy water containers are strapped to the backs of women and children or in panniers on the donkeys.
Last week, we saw an unusual and amusing sight. A woman had brought her two children to the waterhole in the donkey panniers, the local equivalent of a double buggy!
We ended up in a conversation of nods and smiles with her and shared some bananas we had brought. She then talked at length with our Ethiopian friend Micheale, who translated. One of their children had been taken for adoption. It was a complicated story of how but it seems that the child had been stolen initially rather than voluntarily given up. The result was that he had been adopted, initially without their knowledge, and was now living in the States. Whatever the facts, it must have been a partly legal adoption as they ran home to get a photograph of him with his “new”parents in the USA. They wanted to know if we recognised the family or could in any way let the boy know that he also has a family in Ethiopia. Yet again, it underlined the disparity in life experiences.
This week, we risked the start of the rainy season along with some other VSOs. We knew it was a bit of a gamble when we set out, and just as we were moving away from the town we were caught in a violent thunderstorm. We pressed ourselves against the wall of a small stone hut for shelter, and immediately, the woman inside ushered all five of us into a tiny room. Surprisingly, it turned out to be a hairdressers, though there was no sign of this from outside. There were two hairdryers squashed against a wall, a few posters of complicated Ethiopian hairdos on the walls, a handful of chairs around the side and a cooking pot steaming in the middle. It was the end of another (shorter) fasting period, and the family was about to eat its first meat in two weeks. There was barely room for us but she insisted we all sit down. With amazing hospitality, she offered tea and coffee and invited us to share their meal – a hugely generous offer, considering the family’s obviously modest means – we declined. People dropped in and out to look at us (!), three sons, the older two of whom spoke good English. After 15 -20 minutes it stopped raining and we continued our walk, all feeling quite humbled by the experience. We’ve since been able to call back and thank her – and pass on the photograph we took at the time.
Our walk up the hill kept pace with four boys also making their way to the top. They were carrying home-made whips – during the fortnight’s fasting period, the streets are full of boys cracking whips, though no one seems to be able to explain the origin of the tradition, though it is no doubt religious. The custom is to carry some home-made bread to a high place at the end of the fast, and whip it. Erm, go figure!
To finish, our last two walks have ended with more freely given hospitality. July is the height of the “beles” season. The fruits of the prickly cactus plants we’ve seen on walks throughout the seasons are ready to eat now. We were offered them in the hotel where we often collapse at the end of the walks and also from a roadside stall as we made our way back. They’re best eaten when someone else is prepared to risk their fingers on the thorns, but delicious!

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Tesfa trek in Tigray
Suddenly we are in the last stretch of our two years in Mekelle, so recently we’ve tried to focus on what we want to do before we leave. We’ve loved seeing the country and it’s best done before it’s too hot in May/June or too wet, June onwards. This year there was a cluster of bank holidays at the beginning of May: May Day (International workers Day) followed by Ethiopian Easter (yes followed by) on May 5th. We decided to do our second Tesfa trek, this time just north of here in Tigray.
TESFA stands for “Tourism in Ethiopia for Sustainable Future Alternatives”, and also means “hope” in the local language. Tesfa run two treks, both in areas close to Ethiopia’s “Rock Hewn” churches. We did the trek near Lalibela last September and this one, closer to home, in May.
The aim is to bring tourism right to the heart of Ethiopian people in a way which benefits them and leaves few “tourism scars”. Having done both treks now, we can see that it’s a win-win. You stay in simple accommodation, a compound in the style of the local houses, built with local materials. Each place has 3 rooms. Local people look after the rooms and serve dishes typical of the region and season.
In this part of Ethiopia, the houses – “hidmos” – are strong, stone-built rectangular structures. They either stand alone or in a compound surrounded by a protective wall, with family, animals and harvested goods within. Huge cactus hedges are typical too, either bordering paths or around homesteads. In the rainy season, they produce masses of fruit – “beles” – which, once you’ve found your way through the outer prickles, are deliciously sweet and make great jam.
So with the Ethiopian Easter approaching, we were off to trek in the Tigray Mountains. Volunteers, Gareth and Viv from Axum joined us and we met up in Adigrat, the midpoint between our two towns – a three-hour drive for both of us.
This part of the north is away from the main tourist destinations so there’s very little commercialism. However, there are 2 Lodges in Tigray, conveniently placed to access the start and to flop into after the trek, so it was almost a “lodge2lodge” trip. They are both lovely, quite simple, almost like retreats, but with great scenery and, like Tesfa, doing an excellent job giving employment and developing tourism in a way that is sensitive to the local way of life.
Our first stop, “Agora Lodge” at Adigrat, is less than a year old and was developed by the Spanish catholic Sisters. Catholics have a long history in Adigrat; the first school in Ethiopia was established by them as early as the 1850s. They used the development of the lodge as a skills training project for local people. Each room has a poster which tells the story of one of the people involved. Funnily enough the featured person in our room came from Quiha, a village just outside Mekelle, near the airport!
A couple of habesha friends from Mekelle came as far as Adigrat, along with Celine, our American flute playing friend, who was also doing the trek. Celine started her work in Ethiopia in Adigrat and spent quite a bit of time with the catholic sisters and at their orphanage. It was very moving to witness an unexpected reunion between her and a young woman who had been brought up in the orphanage, now working at the Lodge, who recognised Celine from her time in Adigrat.

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After a gentle afternoon walk, excellent meal and scenery gazing time, we were off the next day to start the trek. A breathtaking ride along switchback roads with dizzy drops took us to the start of our walk.
Each day meant some challenging climbs, dramatic scenery and spectacular views. We went through valleys which sometimes have a Mediterranean feel to them and villages, where the people were preparing for Easter. There was spring cleaning going on, animal fattening and food preparation. Easter for the Orthodox Christians is preceded by a 56 day fast. This means eating no animal products at all and strict observers will take only water before midday. So breakfast after 56 days is an orgy of meat eating.
The accommodation had a theme – each compound was perched on a precipice with amazing views. It’s a no-frills experience – no electricity or running water. The donkeys were loaded with yellow jerry cans and brought water up to the houses, a common experience for many Ethiopians (in the absence of donkeys, water carrying is woman’s work). As usual we met wonderful people and were all in love with our excellent guides by the time we finished.
From the trek we moved on to the Gheralta Lodge – familiar to those who’ve been to see us here. After a night’s rest we were refreshed and ready for another walk up to a nearby rock-hewn church.

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That should have been the end of the trip, but it just so happened that the following day, we’d been invited to a wedding not too far away. So we dropped in at the first, conveniently placed for a quick change into “wedding outfits”, and off we went. We’d been warned that getting to the wedding was going to be a bit of a trek itself, and had an hour’s cross country walk to get there (party shoes in bag!)
We’d both decided it was time to sort ourselves out with “occasion wear” Ethiopian style. Men and women usually both wear white, but fashions are shifting slightly and I went for a “this year’s special” in a different colour. I felt luckier than John as his outfit included something like a cricket sweater, rather hot as we trekked across the fields! Wedding celebrations generally take about three days and often take place after fasting has finished, so there can be a real meatfest. We were there for the part of the festivities that took place at the groom’s house, but unfortunately had to leave when the party was about to move to the bride’s house (two houses away in the same village), for the hour’s walk back to the road then the three hour drive back to Mekelle. Nonetheless, it was a great experience and we were pleased to be invited.

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All in all a great trip. We would all recommend the Tesfa treks. In fact I was moved to write and say how much we’d enjoyed it afterwards. The manager replied asking if he could include my testimony on the website. A few days later I looked it up and there was my bit in the “guest book” – immediately after one written by Brad Pitt! I felt almost famous, though I suspect his will stay number one, whilst mine will gradually be superseded by other comments!
http://tesfatours.com/sites/tigray
The views expressed in this blog are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of VSO.

Mitiku’s Story

We’ve been living here for over 20 months now and described some of our experiences. It’s now time to hear from an Ethiopian. Our closest Ethiopian friend here is Mitiku, and I’ve asked him if he would write his story. We were lucky enough to meet him on our second weekend in Mekelle, when he and another “Habasha” (Ethiopian), Rahel offered to help the new arrivals “Ferengis” – or foreigners, get to know the area and led a walk to a local waterfall.

It was a case of a misfortune turning out well. He is a great photographer, but unfortunately that day his lens crashed to the ground. It’s difficult to get good lenses here, so we got talking and that started things. Since then our lives have frequently overlapped. We were surprised and pleased when we moved to this house last year and found ourselves quite by chance living opposite him. So, he’s a frequent visitor, we do many things together and he also accompanied us on our trip south in January.

This is his story, in his own words….

A short autobiography

“I was born in 1980, in a small village called Adigudom about 45 kilometres south of Mekelle. I grew up in a family of 7. Adigudom was one of the villages seriously affected by the 1984-85 Ethiopian famine. Due to the death of my father, it was my mother and the older brothers who took care of me. My father, killed by the Dergu’s police in early 1981, left my mother, who was not able to balance life as a single mother. The agricultural fields were taken by the government and our family was not able to feed itself. The famine had also thrown our family life into a serious problems. 

When resettlement was proposed by the then government, there were very few people who accepted it on will. Soon, however, it was clear that the government started to take young people by force and settle them in western parts of Ethiopia and recruit them into the national army. My oldest brother was the first to be caught by the government and was taken to a place called Wellega (Oromiya region), in western Ethiopia.  With the idea to rescue our brother, Teshome, the second oldest boy followed him but ended up in a different place called Kaffa, south central Ethiopia. The news of the disappearance of her two boys shocked my mother and she wanted to join them but this was not possible as the famine had become worse and the militarization of the region meant it was not easy for people to move from place to place. 

Me and my family had to walk to Mekelle where we lived in the streets for few weeks. My mother joined the ICRC camp (International committee of Red Cross) for pregnant mothers where me and my little sister were also admitted as we were still small children. We were pulled out of the camp after a few days (2-3 not sure), and went into the streets again, where we were caught by the army and sent into another bigger camp near the airport where thousands and thousands of people were waiting to be transported to the settlements. We were there for months and were eventually airlifted to Addis Ababa.

Our journey continued. After three days on a bus from Addis towards the south-western parts of Ethiopia, we reached our destination – Gambella, where my life was to be changed forever. The social and environmental condition in Gambella was terrible. Many children and older people died of malaria and other diseases which were not known to our communities. It was only few people who succeeded to survive in Gambella. I started school and was able to finish primary and secondary school in Gambella. With the support and care of my brothers and mother, I become one of only two out of 300 students who sat for the Ethiopian School-Leaving Certificate in the Gambella region and I was admitted into one of Ethiopia’s new Universities. 

In University, I studied History and later went back Mekelle to teach history in Kallamino special High school, in fact, near our old camp. From there I started another degree in Law. When I finished this law degree, I moved to teach in another private school. I continued studying and was able to finish a Masters in Journalism and Mass communication from a combined Indian and Ethiopia University. While teaching at a private college I studied for another Masters, this time in medical anthropology at Mekelle University where I now teach Medical Anthropology. 

I could now describe myself as a lecturer, researcher, photographer, and have been a good friend of VSO in Mekelle in particular and Ethiopia in general since 2004.  While my mother has never gone back to Adigudom in nearly 30 years, my second oldest brother and I are living there or nearby, in Tigray. My mother, a brother and my sister, now married and running her business, are still living in the Gambella. Despite the long distance between Tigray and Gambella, I occasionally visit them.

Our family, which was forcefully disrupted and flown into three separate directions of the country almost 30 years ago, has not been able to re-unite and live together. I have helped my brother (married and a baby girl) to settle in Adigudom where our family story started. While the second oldest boy was able to find his family in Gambella after the fall of the Dergue in 1990, no one knows about the whereabouts of the oldest boy, who disappeared at the beginning of the story.”

Mitiku Gebrehiwot Mekelle 2013

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A few perspectives on the story, and things we’ve learnt from Mitiku at other times:

•       Ethiopians rarely talk about the famine. As a nation, they prefer not to be defined by it. It didn’t affect everybody or all regions – for many it was a drought and is referred to as such. Ethiopians want to be known for other things as well.  
•     Gambella, where the family were moved to. We’d like to visit, especially to meet Mituku’s mother, but cannot. VSO consider it dangerous, but we hope to go when we’ve finished the placement here.
•       Many of the relocated people wanted to return to Tigray, so they tried to walk back, having no idea of distances, conditions or terrain. Some tried but most didn’t survive. Mitiku’s family also tried to return on foot but fortunately after some time his mother realised that it would be too challenging, so they returned to Gambella.
•       Mituku’s mother is illiterate, but he says it was she who felt the best thing she could do for her children was to encourage them in education. All surviving children are successful.
•       Anyone who has read the book “Moving Mountains” by Claire Bertschinger, the Red Cross nurse who worked at the feeding stations here, or seen her interviews with Michael Buerk on TV/YouTube, will learn how the selection for admission to the feeding camps was made.
•       Mituku’s family were admitted to the feeding centre because his mother was pregnant; the baby later died.
•       Claire’s book starts “Outside the feeding centre on the outskirts of Mekelle, the local Ethiopian staff had organised the starving men, women and children into orderly lines. The hundred or so who had been waiting …had quickly swelled to well over a thousand. I tried to count them… literally just a few rags hung from their skeletons…..” .
•       Mitiku was interviewed for a BBC programme about “events which changed your life” and took part in a radio discussion with Claire B, about her role in his life. She had been haunted by the selection decisions she had to make, Mitiku was grateful and reassuring to her. We found It extremely moving to hear the recording of it on our first our Christmas Day here. Do they know etc.
•       Quite a lot of Mitiku’s spare time is spent volunteering at the School for the Blind here.
•       Names – all Ethiopian names have a meaning. Mitiku means “substitute”, the name chosen because his father died when his mother was pregnant with him. Subsequent children had a different father. He escaped the famine in a different way (and that’s a different story).
•      Mitiku, like many Ethiopians, has great English. He is unlikely to ever visit England as getting a UK visa is virtually impossible for Ethiopians. Our loss.
•      Our time in Mekelle would have been very different and much poorer without him. He leads us on walks in the hills behind the house, suggests places to visit, as well as places to eat, drink and party.

 Most of all we enjoy chatting with him. Our discussions with him and his knowledge, giving us a perspective on and an understanding of Ethiopian life are great.  At present he is helping me with the Gender project I’m working on – getting girls into Higher Education. He’s my translator and advisor and gets me to the right places to meet the right people at the University to see the project through.  Needless to say, we very much hope we’ll be able to continue our friendship when we leave Mekelle.  

Header photo  -by Mitiku, when he wandered into the Danakil Depression

The views expressed in this blog are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of VSO.

 

The volunteer conference mentioned last month has now happened! It’s been and gone and I think left everyone with a smile on their face. Having made such a passionate plea for a conference at our last Addis meeting, sliding out of helping wasn’t an option.

First – e-mails to a few people proved fruitful. Thanks to Ally B and Lainey for workshop ideas, which worked! Next Lynn, who immediately packed off three boxes of stationery. Two arrived in Mekelle no hassle, but the third was held by Addis customs. I had the usual result when you go head to head with Ethiopian bureaucracy, I lost!  Although I’m 1½ days bus ride or an hour’s flight from Addis, nothing could happen until I showed up in Addis in person. So we left Mekelle a day early to spend a frustrated Saturday morning stamping feet.  The box included 200 badge holders, but this was judged too many for “personal use”. Remonstrations that we were having a big party and not everyone knew each other didn’t help.  2 is the maximum for personal use.  But, if customs released them was I prepared to pay the duty anyway?

Me: “Well how much will it cost?”

Customs: “I can’t tell you that until you’ve given me two pieces of paper stamped correctly (which –ha ha – you probably can’t get on a Saturday morning).  Come back on Monday.

“ Me: “but the party is on Monday, 4 hours drive from here”……

Customs: “Ha”, checkmate!

I did pick up techniques for pissing somebody off – ignore by answering phone and talk for ages in unknown language or address something on the computer, preferably whilst the person has a taxi waiting for them. I’ve committed these to memory ready for use at some point.

After that was ready for Addis pampering and went to the hairdressers. Darijee has moved into a new building (see photo) – Eventually found it and spent an hour or so there to recover.

The conference budget was tight and after transport, accommodation and food, little was left for anything else. Luckily, my begging produced a donation which meant a bit more freedom. We went for “conference T-shirts”, so back to creative roots for adapting the VSO logo, more luxury stationery like pens, notebooks and post-its along with the much-needed badge holders! There was also enough left for “drinks on the house” on the last night.

The time running up to the conference was hectic for the committee and office with people registering, making transport arrangements, swapping ideas for sessions and presentations, and all the rest of the admin and general communication. It coincided with the worst month of Ethio Internet we’ve had since we arrived.  So poor Gideon struggled with receiving all the emails and it became a bit hit and miss, knowing who’d confirmed etc. All 150 of us had to be flown or bussed to Addis, then bussed down to the venue (another 4 hours away) and the odd group picked up en-route. Amazingly it all worked – Ethio style of course. The message was to be at the VSO office at 9.00, and we didn’t leave till 11. That’s normal. People don’t seem to mind having to get up and out two hours earlier than they need. I still struggle with it.

We went with eyes wide open for the venue – simple with shabby chalets was what we’d heard – but it felt like arriving on the Riviera. Simply sitting in the shade with a cold drink gazing at water couldn’t be more relaxing and from the start, it felt good. Everybody’s placements are tough in one way or another, so it would have been so easy for the conference to slide into a complete moan zone. Marian and James got planning it off to a good start, so we had sessions which let people say what they needed to, but hopefully leave feeling good. Experiences are really different: some have no contact with others of their nationality or their own language –  VSO has 10 nationalities here now: British, Irish, Canadian, Dutch, Kenyan, Filipino, Swedish, Indian, Ethiopian and one newly arrived Chinese guy. Or issues with accommodation and infestations – rats. Or things to do with their placements or bureaucracy (!) or being like John, an accompanying partner. Or harassment – sexual or other.  Or boredom with the same food over and over. So, everyone needs a break from whatever their major stress is. The grounds were huge so people could get together or wander off as they wished. One guy said one of the best things for him was just to joke with people of his age – he realised he’d stopped, as it was such a pain explaining everything.

A bit of a shock was that there was no internet access at all, but it probably wasn’t such a bad thing as people didn’t disappear to check stuff all the time and but got to know others. There are 3 other people from our September 2011 intake still here, so catching up with them was good, and for all the new volunteers to meet as well.

So we planned time out as well as time in. I won’t ramble on with all the activities, but we were all pleased with the sessions we’d delivered and the feedback. I was on the morning of the first day and used visual sessions and made good use of the fancy “post-it” flip charts which had got through customs!  Everybody was asked to bring a picture which represented VSO for them. One, a huge sumo wrestler being pushed by a tiny little person took a bit of working out, but actually much of the VSO experience is akin to trying to move something which takes a lot of shifting!

One of the most inspired parts of the organisation was that we finished at 3.30 every day and then did “Open Space” sessions (great idea Marian). People wrote up something they felt they could lead, but didn’t have to be an expert, and groups were formed around that. So there was photography, bird watching, a talk on Ethiopian architecture, face painting, cultural dancing, reflexology, etc. etc. Sounds a bit random, but worked brilliantly and again gave people an informal but focused time to do what they wanted.  Also John, being a counsellor, found himself pretty busy. Oh, every morning started with a 7.00 Yoga session (I can’t tell you how much I loved that – really saluting the sun!) or sport, and the day finished with most people in the water!

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I feel lucky that my time here coincided with a conference. It’s the first one for three years due to budgets etc.  We had a good team working together and were well supported by the VSOE office staff. Thanks to people who shared photos – especially the ones I’ve used in this blog.

The views expressed in this blog are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of VSO.

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Office Party

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What’s happening at work?
It’s a while since I wrote about my work. The last time I touched on it was last year so time to get up-to-date.
My main work has been office based – a change for me and not where at I’m at my best! The REB (Regional Education Bureau) asked me to do some finding out about teacher motivation. Feedback through the various channels told of dissatisfaction amongst teachers. The “finding out” turned into a piece of research – a first for me.
Step one was to find relevant reading material to get some background. Googling and fishing about led me to some interesting reads like previous publications by VSO, DFID (Department for International Development, UK) and even one produced by the Reading based CfBT (Centre for British Teachers). They were the most useful and described many common issues in sub-Saharan African countries.
Next came designing research materials and questionnaires, deciding which schools to choose and planning interviews. I chose two local urban schools and two rural schools, these a good eight hours away by road so a contrast with Mekelle. The interviews were with individual teachers in each school, then additional teachers in focus groups, plus the head, chair of School Association, as well as curriculum, local and regional advisers. All quite an undertaking. The interviews were done by last June (with the help of a translator) and since then I’ve been pulling the data and information together.
That’s when my headaches really started! For various reasons (including language and costs), I wanted to work independently, but not being an Excel whiz-kid, that was a challenge. Luckily I came across “Survey Monkey”, a web-based survey/data analysis program. It took some time working out how to set it up but once I got there I’ve enjoyed using it. A prerequisite is however, reliable Internet. That’s something I don’t get at work, so doing all the data entry whilst I was in the UK for the Olympics was a win-win.
Since my return in September I’ve been having fun discovering all the different possibilities of working with Survey Monkey – and have any number of Excel figures to choose from to demonstrate results. I’ve steadily worked through the analysis, drawn conclusions and just finished the recommendations and been surprised at how long it’s taken me to get this part done.
It turns out that more teachers are positive than negative and the biggest cause of negativity is very poor pay. They have had a small pay rise since the interviews, but as inflation is high it’s still a cause of dissatisfaction. Quite a few of the differences between the UK and here have become apparent. One is the trend of teachers continuously moving from remote /rural areas to towns. The rural schools had almost no teachers over 30, and most had already worked in three or four schools, with numerous transfers. Another feature is the system for appointing for teachers and head teachers. It is more like the French system than the UK, where teachers and head teachers are allocated to schools rather than appointed and selected locally. This isn’t always satisfactory and means some schools are without head teachers for periods of time, leaving unprepared and sometimes reluctant deputies leading the school. The criteria for a deputy and head aren’t necessarily merit. I met one deputy with only two years’ teaching experience and he left a lot to be desired in terms of commitment and staff inspiration.
Despite the limitations, there has been tremendous progress here in developing the education system, all of which has more or less taken place in the last 20 years. Imagine the massive infrastructure of teacher training, school building and equipping to provide for all pupils.
Now the report is finished I’m faced with another IT challenge – getting to grips with all the sophistications of MS Word, like the clever ways of entering the table of contents, citations, bibliography, lists of figures /tables etc., as well as getting the chapter numbering to work properly.
Whilst the research into Teacher Motivation has been the common theme of my days, there are quite a lot of other things going on too. For example, this week I’ve just finished working with the office “Gender” expert deciding how the Bureau will mark International Women’s day in March. Many families actively discourage girls from remaining at school after 15, preferring them to stay and help at home in domestic roles. We will invite a panel made up of schoolgirls, teachers, education experts, members of the regional women’s association and the women’s affairs bureau to a discussion forum with the REB staff. Seems yours truly will be speaking. Refreshments and the obligatory coffee ceremony will be part of the session, and it looks like we will go for a “first” and invite men to volunteer to take the coffee round – yes! – that could cause shockwaves through the place! Thanks to a fundraising offer from a UK friend, this will be followed up later by another forum where female university students will feed back on how well or badly they have been prepared for university, letting the bureau know if there are other things we can do to prepare girls for university.
Later on I met the person responsible for Climate Change education, a new addition to the Environmental Education curriculum. This is just being rolled out through teachers’ Continuous Professional Development and will be introduced to schools soon. We may again link with an interest from the UK, through PAWS, the Pangbourne sustainability group I belong to. Jackie Hoskins, who leads the education section, wants to do a Skype session on Climate change awareness raising between here and schools in Pangbourne. It’s ambitious, but could be good – we’ll see what happens.
Lastly, I have been liaising with an American Peace Corps education volunteer over the last few weeks. This has been to help her prepare for a two day conference in Mekelle for all the Tigray Education Peace Corps volunteers. Today included a tour of my offices and tomorrow I will join their conference for a presentation on the teacher training programme here.
VSO has a volunteer committee and I’m the rep for the north. I’m really pleased that, after a degree of pressure, funds have been found to hold a national conference for all the Ethiopia volunteers. Like most things, you don’t get much notice and there’s exactly 4 weeks to do all the preparation – finding a venue for 150 to fit the budget, plus the rest of the logistics like getting people there, as well as drawing up the programme. Venue found! A run down lakeside resort in the south – and it’s the only lake in Ethiopia safe for swimming. We still have 2 ½ weeks to go, so there’s a chance it will come together. Again, a UK friend has helped by sending workshop stationary like flip charts and pens and post its. Thank you!
Work isn’t all work and no play. Last week there was a sort of holiday, but it seemed we were expected to get to work for lunchtime. It was a celebration of the anniversary of the foundation of the TPLF (Tigray People’s Liberation Front) 38 years ago. This local organisation was the power house behind the overthrow of the Derg, a struggle led by the late Prime Minister, Meles Zenawi. The office insisted that John come too and we were duly treated as privileged guests. So privileged that there was no refusing our turn to lead a dance. Mmmm. I think I’ve said before that music and dance are a big part of any celebration here and our efforts caused much amusement. I’ll include photos, but just to explain that many dances involve everyone going round in a rough circle, with energetic shoulder movements. Men often dance with men and a scarf is a pre-requisite for anyone dancing, so men also tie women’s scarves around their hips. It all seems quite normal now! Wonder what will feel normal when we get back?