The Running Across Border (RAB) house
After 2 long flights and a lovely layover in London with Jamie, I was met at the airport by the coach, Mersha, and the driver, Dani
(Thurs). We left the airport to a bright Ethiopian morning (11pm on the east
coast of the US).
I was exhausted and all that I wanted to do was sleep, which I did after a
haphazard ride through the city, to the rapidly growing Ayat village on the
outskirts. When I woke, Meseret, Gudisa, and Joanna were waiting in the
kitchen. I felt bad that they had all been sitting around, waiting for me to get
up. As I’ve learned over the past few days, a lot of sitting, doing nothing,
occupies the days, possibly because getting anything done in Ethiopia is very slow going, or possibly,
getting something accomplished goes against this culture of stoop sitting,
something I’m trying to acclimatize to. My concern of keeping others waiting
was entirely unfounded.
the backyard of the RAB house
After more sitting, Gudisa, Joanna and I went to buy injera
bread for our lunch of firfir. Injera is like a fermented crepe. It is sour,
thin, and has lots of bubbles in it. Firfir consists of ripped apart injera in
a sauce on top of an injera that takes up the totality of an oversized plate. Meseret
placed a daunting pile of firfir on the table. Thankfully, it was for Joanna
and I to share. They taught me to eat with my right hand, scooping the firfir
with my fingers. I’m sorry to report that we only made a small dent in the
pile. I didn’t like the sour taste very much, but Joanna said that it would
grow on me. A few days later (Sat), Joanna and I had curry firfir at a restaurant
and I enjoyed it. The curry cut the sour a bit.
With each item that I buy, I’m surprised anew by how
inexpensive most things are here. A restaurant meal split between two (Joanna
and my firfir) is 40birr~$2.35. I was able to buy 1 kilo of beets, ½ kilo of
garlic, ¼ kilo of ginger root, and a large bunch of kale for only 26birr~$1.50
(and garlic and ginger are considered expensive).
Gudisa (translator, guide, RAB athlete) and Meseret (cook)
are hospitable and loving hosts. Gudisa’s favorite English word is “crazy,”
often calling himself “crazy boy” and me, “crazy ferengi.” He often asks me how
much ferengi I am and I say, “99%,” and he says, “no, maybe 60% ferengi, 40% Habasha
(Ethiopian).” Gudisa calls me “killer” in because he has heard of Helen Keller,
but pronounces it “killer” and there is no correcting him. Meseret says that I have
“two mommies,” my American mom and my mama Messy, although I am four years
older than her. When I wake up or arrive back to the house, she calls to me,
“Helen baretu?” (beautiful Helen) and I respond “Messy baretu, ow?” (beautiful
Messy, yes?). This is how most of our conversations go, or at least start. With
much pantomiming, I told her that my mother teaches piano and she lit up,
asking if my mom would teach her if she ever came to America. The dream of living in America is
common here. Although there is much Ethiopian pride, Gudisa says that most want
to escape to richer nations. This general sentiment is working against him in
trying to obtain a visa to compete in international races, where he is sure he
can win. Because Gudisa is an orphan, without any real estate, car, wife,
children or internationally competitive race time (though he would deny this),
he appears to the American embassy as too risky a visa candidate. All athletes
believe that if they just had the chance, they would win an international race,
although for many, that is not a feasible goal. This is the strength of Team
Tesfa, another team that I will soon be working with more that places a greater
emphasis upon education than training.
Meseret cooking; Gudisa doing his laundry
Visitors
Wherever I go, I get a lot of attention, even at home. A
neighbor girl heard me speaking English and brought her English homework over
for me to do. (English is part of the curriculum in Ethiopian schools, which
makes getting around and interacting with everyone easier for me.) Because it
was far too difficult for her, but a good level for Gudisa (who speaks very
good English), Gudisa and I worked on it together.
As I was sitting at the table in the RAB house (on Tues), a
neighbor boy, probably about two and a half, came to visit. He was a little
apprehensive about my whiteness, and Gudisa tells him that I am a ferengi. With
a little peek-a-boo and some of my breakfast, he warms up to me quickly. He
gets into the sugar (segwar) and walks around the apartments with two fistfuls.
His mother asked him where he got it and he responded, ennat (my mother). Then
the six years old brother of the first came to join the fun. He wiggled in
beside me, curious about my computer. I gave the boys paper and pens and the
older boy made up math problems and then picked up my English/Ahmaric
phrasebook to write while the younger scribbled and threw pens.
On the street, there is no way for me to blend in. I’ve
started wearing a scarf over my head and shoulders, as many women do, to gain a
smidgen of anonymity. Trucks honk, children yell “ferengi, ferengi…” and
giggle, and many ask, “ouw arrr yooo?” They are ecstatic when I respond.
Ferengi are rare here.
Getting Around
To get to the market, we took a “taxi” from the front of our
building (I usually elect to walk. You’ll see why shortly). It was a tiny
mobile—not even a car, more like a gas-powered tricycle with a blue shell of
slaughtered metal around it, one small wheel in front and two in the back—and
already had the driver and two passengers in it. We all piled in, now with six
of us in a child-sized clown car; you can always fit one more—or three, or
twenty—in Ethiopia.
This is particularly true on the higers, larger buses that
quickly fill and become sardine cans. Only very wealthy Ethiopians have cars; because
so many rely upon buses, taxis and higers, public transportation in amazingly
reliable, though you may have someone in your lap or be standing in a very
tight mass on the higer, clutching onto others’ arms to balance. Once, when I
was sitting and another woman was standing, she gave me her purse to hold. The
idea of a personal bubble is an outlandish concept here.
Though a higer may seem already overloaded to my American
eyes, the man that shuffles people on and off and collects money, bangs on the
windows at each stop to encourage everyone in the aisle to push back more.
Sometimes, arguments between passengers and the sardine-can packer when
passengers feel that no one else can fit and they stubbornly refuse to crowd
themselves further (as if that is possible). Although the higer may be fully
loaded with ticked off passengers, the higer attendant will ride along with his
torso and head sticking out of the window, advertising the higer’s route. Once,
the higer was so full that the attendant rode on the outside of the higer with
his arm coming into the sliding door’s window, clinging to inside roof! Traffic
lanes are an abstract concept here. There may be enough room on a given road to
drive two abreast in one direction, but only single file in the other. However,
if two cars are approaching from the formerly single lane, the other lane must
adjust quickly and merge to become a single lane.
Mom, know that I walk and avoid getting into the line of traffic
as much as possible. My preference for walking shocks Gudisa and Meseret.
Home visit
Sunday was a long, fun day! Joanna, Gudisa and I went to
Gudisa’s family’s house a little ways away. Families here are very large; most
people have around ten children. When Meseret learned that I have one brother,
she tilted her head, puckered her lips and said “oooo, no sisters?” in
sympathy. Although Gudisa grew up as an orphan, he has family that lives close
to the RAB house. When we arrived, five children and Gudisa’s uncle were
sitting around the TV in their mud house. Socializing here is all about sitting
around together, not necessarily talking or doing anything, especially if a TV
is present. We chatted with Gudisa’s uncle a bit and he lit up every time that
I said something in Ahmaric (my go to words: “ishy” (okay), “amaseganarlo”
(thank you), and “salamno” (how are you). They were all particularly delighted
when I counted for them. He said that I was a fast learner and Gudisa told me
again that night that his uncle was impressed with how much I was speaking in
only three days. As I watched the entrance door and the passageway to the
kitchen, people came in and out, bustling to prepare out lunch and I was unable
to keep track of how many were actually in the house. I told Gudisa that he has
a big family and he said that they were not all relatives of his. It is common
for people to raise other people’s children. On a similar note, beggers seem
well respected and cared for by most; people are quick to pass a birr through
the window to a woman begging outside (usually with an infant in her hands).
Possibly, because the majority are close to poverty themselves, they help today
because that may be them tomorrow. There is a general sense of responsibility
in caring for those around you.
Joanna warned me that because hospitality is highly valued and
because food is all that many have to offer, when you visit a home, you will
undoubtedly become uncomfortably full. We were given sodas and injera to lay
cross-wise across the plate, covering the entire plate. Gudisa’s aunt came in
with a pot of dorowit with eggs (dorowit is a spicy red stew) and ladled it
onto our injera. Next came kikili (lamb in a green sauce) and then the
highlight (as chicken is very expensive) dorowit with chicken. Whenever I took
a break from eating, Gudisa and his uncle encouraged me on, “be, be!” (eat,
eat!). I thought that I was gonna pop! Quincy
Sunday brunch, you got nothing on this. I was relieved when Gudisa subtly
helped me with my serving.
Since we arrived, one of Gudisa’s cousins had been roasting
coffee. Making coffee is a long process and is generally done only on special
occasions. They roast the beans over a small stove on the floor and always burn
incense as it cooks. Gudisa’s cousin brought the smoking beans over to Joanna
and I to breath in, which is believed to have medicinal qualities. The coffee
was brought to us in demi cups with lots of sugar. (Excessive amounts of sugar
are also added to tea). Although I don’t usually like coffee, this was
delicious! Instant coffee would be a sin to an Ethiopian. As we drank our
coffee, sugared popcorn was passed around.
Bez, Joanna’s host mom (my host-mom-to-be in a week!), works
at a government building in Addis
Ababa, is well educated, well-off, and well connected.
She told Joanna about an exhibition of Ethiopian-made technologies, products,
clothing, shoes, and crafts that was taking place in the city yesterday. We
were lucky to have somewhere to go following the home visit, because otherwise
the feeding could continue for hours! Popular singers and musicians also
performed on stage at the exhibition. Two men in costume as oversized robots
danced to the music. They sang songs in Ahmaric and then American songs in
English. We took a series of overcrowded higers back to Ayat village.
It was dark by the time that we returned to Ayat and Gudisa
and I walked Joanna back to Bez’s house. Time, as usual, seemed of no concern
to Gudisa. We visited Bez’s neighbor to check in on their progress in establishing
an orphanage. She said that the children should arrive Wed or Thurs. However,
they have been saying that the children will arrive in a few days for months.
Joanna and I are anxious to play with and meet the children! As Gudisa and I
finally made our way home, four dogs followed us. They knew Gudisa from when
the RAB athletes were living on the same street as Bez. As they followed us,
Gudisa shoed them away. When we reached the main road that leads to the current
RAB house, only one was still tailing us and Gudisa changed his mind and began
calling the dog, insistent that the dog become his. We called “butch, butch,
butch” to keep him close to us. Gudisa named him “Jacob,” after an American
visitor with puffy, blond, matted hair that resembled the dog’s coat. Jacob
seemed to know his name and although he cowered every time that a truck drove
by, he caught up to us after lagging behind. When we reached the house after
the forty minute walk, luring Jacob up to the apartment (not to enter, but to
sleep outside) proved to be another time intensive task. However, Gudisa was
insistent and we finally succeeded! This morning (Mon), much to Gudisa’s
dismay, the dog was nowhere to be found, but as Meseret prepared breakfast,
Jacob must have smelled it in the air and returned to our door.
Gudisa and Jacob
