One year!

I have been in Africa for one year! That's one year of living out of a backpack, one year of the same 5 pairs of underwear, one year without stockings, suspenders and heels. One year of meeting and leaving people. I have visited 9 countries in Africa, that's 9 out of 56, I've hardly licked the tip of the iceberg.

Talking about licking, I've been celibate for one year too. One year without any sex, or kissing, not even a lick. Not though lack of opportunity, nor through any restraint. So I haven't been depriving you of any juicy details (like I would), there just haven't been any juicy details to report.

This month is also my 9 year anniversary of being a foreigner. it was on September 16 1998 that I left New Zealand a wide-eyed round-faced 22 year old and haven't been back since. 9 years of being passport dependant. I've been to 34 countries. 34 out of 192, there's still a bit to see and a lot to learn.

So just a quick look back over the past year.


Highlights:

Descending Mount Sinai by Camel at dawn.

Spending a night next to the Sudanese pyramids.

Staying a night in a family mud hut in South Sudan.

Running naked thought the Sahara desert.

Swimming in a massive thunderstorm in Uganda.

Late night swim in the salty Indian Ocean beneath a spectacular sky of stars.

Staying a night on the ridge of a live volcano crater in the Congo.

Getting to see Flic recover from brain surgery and know she is ok.

The utter joy of getting on a train/bus/truck knowing that when I get off I'll be in a whole new world, new faces, new food, new challenges that I can not predict or plan for. It's exhilarating.


Low lights:

Being fired in Sudan which meant losing my job, home and right to stay in the country (re-hired within the hour).

Incredibly painful surgery in sub-standard conditions. eugh.

Bank card dramas in Uganda.

Flic's accident.

Not trusting people, always thinking when someone approaches me that they want something.


Dramatic moments:

Going to the British Embassy to ask their help in getting out passports back while in Sudan.

Getting caught in tear gas at a wrestling match.

A massive drop in a tiny 12 seater plane filled with displaced people during a storm in South Sudan.

There are a few little, random things that I may not have mentioned at the time but I'll mention now.

Skin coloured plasters are not skin coloured on an African (actually they are not skin coloured on me either... in fact who is that pinky orange colour?).

I think sometimes you can tell a lot about a culture from it's language. A basic greeting in Arabic translates into 'Peace be upon you'. By comparison, a typical response to 'How are you?' in Swahili translates into "Crazy cool like a banana."

Mannequins in clothes shops in central and east Africa have big hips and butts. They are often padded up with news papers to make them bigger.

If you look at a night time satellite picture of Africa it is pretty dark compared to the rest of the world. But if you look at the night sky in Africa it is amazingly bright.

Many African men have hot bodies.

In northern Sudan the graveyards are very sad looking. people are buried within hours of their death. they are placed on a stretcher type thing and wrapped in cloth. That is placed on it's side so the dead faces Mecca. then the grave is covered with dirt. The end result is a dry, barren expanse of mounds without markers or identity.

Ethiopian coffins are cool. they are made of wood, then covered in bright, gaudy, floral velvet with gold trims and tassels. I want one.

African women often call me 'Sister' which makes me feel all cool and black and African. African kids sometimes call me 'Mama' which makes me feel old and like I should be in someway responsible for them.

At road blocks, the police sometimes wear mirrored sunglasses, and chew a toothpick or a stick. They kind of swagger up to the car. John Claude Van Damm, Steven Segal and Bruce Lee are idolised here.

In Sudan I was a lot of Albinos, they are often ostracised by society and are beggars. The only place where I saw Albinos treated equally was in Tanzania where there have an Albino drummer in the national football team's band.

Tanzania has the best clouds. They are in layers, little round ones below, longer smooth ones above, and thin streaky ones beyond that. All with plenty of sky in between.

The black market is a place. A bank clerk in Burundi once said to me when I was trying to change the obscure and rare currency of British pounds Stirling "We can't change it here, but go to the black market, it's just around the corner. Oh, wait, it'll be closed now, try again tomorrow."

Ethiopian Etiquette

I thought I'd get this out now, I don't know when I'll be able to log on again. But first comments:

Hey Derek: Sorry I've lost the myspace connection. I'm also sorry to be missing the festival. I'll be there for the next one.

Hey Fiona. Thanks heaps, sorry for all the spelling mistakes you will endure in your reading, I'm rubbish at spelling.

Right, Here is a beginners guide to Ethiopian etiquette for dinning in restaurants or with a wealthy family. The rules appear to be complex so this is only a rough guide from my recent observations.

It's mandatory that you wash your hands from a jug of stupidly cold water that is brought around by the maid or waiter. This can be quite a performance with people demonstrating one-hand-only style of washing, super vigorous washing, or extra thorougher washing in which the pressure between the hands is evident. I have noticed (for the first time in my life) that i concentrate on washing the thumb of my left hand and the middle finger of my right hand.

If the restaurant is a bit lower budget there is a wash basin present to wash with. In this case it seems important to turn the tap in as much as possible and leave it on. Anyone would think they didn't have problems with their water supply.

food is eaten from a communal plate with the right hand only. The plate is covered with the pancake like bread and the topping poured into the middle. always eat from your own side only, but if you want something from the other side snatch it, and place it on your own side before eating.

If you would like a guest to eat more food after she has eaten a lot already first say "eat, eat" (even if she has her mouth full and is chewing already). then take food from one side of the plate and put it in her section. Say "small, small"while pointing at the food. If she still looks like she isn't going to eat take the food with your right hand and try to put it in her mouth.

If you eat with local Ethiopians they will expect you to eat 3 times more than them. after eating your full you will be offered more food, simply say "no thank you". About 15 time usually does it.

It's ok to eat with your mouth open, actually I think it is expected. It's ok to spit, or drop food onto the floor(which in the house is carpet covered with plastic, but if it wasn't covered with plastic, they would mop it anyway) and put food that has been in your mouth back onto the communal plate.

It is ok for a small child (6 years old) to sit on the table, to eat from any plate or bowl and to play with her feet while eating on top f the table.

It's also ok to blow your hand and flick the snot onto the floor (as long as it is your left hand) or let your child blow their nose into you hand and flick it. This can be done at any time during, before of after the meal.

Yup. My up bringing and learning the rules of Swiss etiquette are working against me here. but I'll adapt, and when I return to the west I may have to re-adapt.

They mop the carpets

It has taken me an hour to log on to this blog. Sheeh.

So Ethiopia:

They have bakeries, but they don't have delicatessens.

They have blu tac, but don't have tampons.

They are obsessed with polished shoes.

They are very good looking people.

They mop their carpets.

They say 'No problem' whenever there is a problem but don't want to be responsible for it.

My mother (who since I last wrote has cruised up the inside passage of Canada, been to Alaska, seen glaciers, whales, eagles and been pulled on a summer sledge by huskies. I think she is in Vancouver now) has emailed me your comments. I'll reply to them here... sorry for this. Africa can be inconvenient sometimes.

Hi TH. I don't have your email, get mine off the dashing Mr. Sparks and drop me a line. Also ask him if he fancies meeting in Palestine June next year. I'll see you in London in July 2008.

Hi Cairo Gal. If you can find a way around the blocked sites let me know. I know that it is possible to download programs that make it possible.

Hey Mistress Lenore. Thanks for your email. Chocolate usually is fine in the post. I used to send it when I lived in Switzerland. But I have found imported chocolate here (exotic brands like Nestle and Cabreys), so can keep myself supplied. Hurrah.

Ok, That done, what is happening here? Well, the summer school is over. My mite bites have pretty much disappeared after finishing off the sulphur creme and moving on to what the pharmacist described as 'human skin pesticide'. I have moved out of the family home and am staying in a hotel in the city till Liam's visa comes though and we'll head north. So it's all good.

I getting down a bit. I had a really shit morning a couple of Wednesdays ago. I hadn't had a proper shower in a few weeks, I had eaten spaghetti and red sauce for 9 meals straight (breakfast, lunch and dinner for 3 days). So I was feeling sick, dirty and in need of a hug and some vegetables. Where I stayed the toilet was right next to the guard dog who is forever kept on an incredibly short leash. He sees me as a threat and chocks himself trying to get me. This particular morning he chocked himself violently as a went to the toilet, when I left with the empty water bucket to fill it up, and by the time I returned the poor mis-treated creature was strangling himself trying to attack me. Not the best way to start a day.

We were late to school as usual. Time is not a priority, which stresses me out because as a teacher it kinda need to get to class on time (so I can chastise the students who come late). The low light of the morning was turning up to school and seeing the body of a dead boy lying on the street. The police were there standing about. I don't know who the kid was. I think he was a street kid who had died sleeping by the road during the night.

So that afternoon I couldn't handle cramming into a minibus of 20 screaming children to return to the house with 5 (or so) screaming children. So I took public transport and wandered about the city instead. I felt much better after that.

Tomorrow Liam and I will head north (Allah and Sudanese immigration willing) I shall stay for a few days and then return to Addis, Liam will return to Khartoum. When I get back I'll move into my new apartment with the two Americans. I have seen the apartment. It's HUGE. it's 3 stories (one story for each of living there) it has a massive 8 foot wall to protect it. There is a maid's quarters too. And it is only 15 mins walk from the school. At the moment it is not furnished but should be by the time I get back.

Raw meat, TV and Narcotics

If you are ever in a foreign country, doesn't matter which one, any country, and they offer you a local delicacy... it is going to be something gross. Whether it is Black pudding in Scotland, Salt soup in Switzerland, Kina in New Zealand. "local delicacy" means "food we don't eat all the time because it is actually disgusting, but we make visitors eat it". in Ethiopia it's raw meat.

Last week the school had it's big opening day. it was a huge affair with the mayor and the press. There was ribbon cutting, tree planting, flower giving and a huge feast of raw meat sliced from freshly slaughtered sheep and cows. you just take your plate to the carcass and point to which bit you want to eat. Yum. I went for the raw mince meat, still warm and mixed with chili.

The mayor was shown around the school, I met him in the library where he greeted me in English (phew), and suggested that I contact my government and ask them to send school books to Ethiopia. I smiled and nodded and repeated information about the library I had heard the day before (we have 1500 books, 1000 in English and 500 in Amharic, the library seats 80 students... blah, blah blah). And out of the whole day, it was that moment that was screened on the Ethiopian news, twice, and in 3 languages. So I have been on telly here 6 times now. I didn't get into the newspaper though.

I have emailed the two other native English speaking teachers who shall be coming at the end of the month. Both are from the US, both are female. and both sound really cool. Ebony and Sarah. I'm looking forward to them arriving. It will be nice to live with people from my own culture (well sort of same) . And I'm also looking forward to getting to know people long term. Actually form a base, and friends and a life here.

The staff at the school are really nice. This weekend I might visit a church with one,I think he wants to convert me. I'm just interested in seeing the architecture, ritual, and ambiance of an Ethiopian Orthodox Church. Also the computing teacher is really nice. She is unusual in that she doesn't aspire to marriage, and she loves her freedom. She has never been out of Ethiopia before, so I told her to get a passport and in the mid year holidays we'll go to Eritrea together. That's when I found out what the other teachers get paid: They get 1100 birr which is 121 USD, while I get 4000 birr which is 440 USD.

I thought I got double the amount, not triple. Seems more than unfair given that I have a one month teaching certificate when the other teachers mostly have a teaching degree and loads of experience. Hmmm, I don't know how I'm going to resolve this in my head. It doesn't seem that ethical.

Still haven't got the apartment. I got some sulphur cream from the chemist for the bites on my skin. They have subsided but not totally disappeared and I smell like a volcano. Oh, to have a shower, with lovely hot running water.

The best news of the week is the appearance of Liam. He was a volunteer in Sudan. and an awesome guy. he was who I was with when we got caught in the teargas at the wrestling. He is getting a new visa for Sudan, He popped up to Somalia and is now down south. I was sitting in an internet cafe on the weekend and he walked in. We spend a pleasant evening smoking shisha (something I really missed from Sudan) and chewing Chat (or Qat) , the local narcotic. It is leaves that you chew off stalks. it tastes like, well, leaves. and gives a hit like caffeine. wakes you up. Maybe this is why Ethiopians like to dance so much.

Next week summer school ends and I have a weeks holiday. I hope to head north, and if Liam is still kicking about, go with him as he returns to Sudan. There are some amazing island monasteries and a beautiful waterfall in the north. I know I haven't even been teaching for a month, but I think I deserve a break. I really don't travel enough.

Still waiting to get settled.

The school is still in the process of gettng me the correct paperwork. I spent an afternoon with the school's director ping-ponging between various government offices. If we were taking a survey then about 85% of civil servents say there is no problem for me to get a work permit. However no one will put anything on paper (accountability is lackng is a lot of places here) and higer up the beuoracy chain they say no. So the school is looking into all options. They are very good.

Teaching is going OK. At frist I was freaked out about the idea of dealing with children. A wise friend (Dave) put it into perspective: "they are stupid and need to learn stuff, cause they are new. They are just new people." They are new, and they are not as bad as I thought they were going to be. Sometimes I can hold their attention, sometims I can't. It's kind of like doing a ghost tour, except the audience doesn't want to be there, it's during the say, they are all sitting down, you don't go anywhere, the information changes everytime you do it, it's not scarey, or interesting, or entertaining. OK, it's nothing like doing a ghost tour.

I wear a white lab coat, all the teachers do, it's our uniform. I quite like it. I feel it gives me a sort of mad-professior typ authority. I have my pens sticking out of my top left pocket and a pile of broken chalk in my bottom right pocket. Each staff member has their own duster. I have customisd mine with black marker and purple nail polish.

I am having a bit of difficulty remembering the names of the 100 or so kids and 60 or so staff. Their are names that I can seem to remember ok like Fitusum and Mintysnot (he was wearing pale green too which helps) but Addishiwot, Ewnetu, Alemayehu and Nuhamin don't exactly roll off my tounge.

I still am not in the appartment. The appartment that they wre lookn at fell though, so they are looking for a new one. The family I stay with is very rich, in the house (which is 3 seperate buildings around one courtyard) there are 13 people including me and a grandma who only gets brought out on special occations. There is satalite TV, 3 lounges and 3 maids (who I thought were subservent members of the family). But all the kids share rooms, the 6 year old sleeps in a cot in her parents room, there is one squatty toilet for all of us, and no running water. Priotys are different here.

My mother has emailed me some of your comments. Mums are great arn't they.

Thanks Mistress. 1st day went well, sorry we've lost the myspace connection. Have loads of fun at Yanky Doodle Candy. Blow a kiss to Missy for me.

Thanks M. my character is pretty built but can always do with renovations

Thanks Anon. I love Xena but don't suit a fringe. My Gabrielle got hit by a truck and is doing great back in melbourne.

Thanks Rosa. Congratulations on getting the visa. I missed seeing Liam, He's off in Somalia, I hope to catch him when her gets back

Thanks Flic. hope rehab is ok. I make you sound like a junkie. you must tell me how the minibus system works here.

And to the rest of you, Thank you for your emails. Sorry being so behind. I'll get back to you soon as.

Postal Address

Oh, and I now have the address of the school.

Please send love letters and chocolate to:

Ms Rachel
South West Academy
P.O.Box 50010
Addis Ababa
Ethiopia

When I get settled...

It's good here... but I'm looking forward to when it will get better. There are things that are hopefully going to change soon. First I am staying with one of the owners of the school and his wee herd of children who attend the school. The family is really sweet and lovely and are bending over backwards to accommadate me.

I just want my own space.

Their food is lovely, I really enjoy Ethiopian food, but my large intestine doesn't enjoy it all. The reaction is violent and unpleasent. When I get settled I'll be mostly cooking for myself. I hope that happens before my students start to call me Ms Farty-bum Rachel.

It's rainy season at the moment so clothes take days and days to dry. I'm having a few laundry issues, When I get settled I'll know market prices and buy a few more clothes. Despite all the water falling from the sky there is still a lot of water problems, There is currently no running water in the house I'm staying in, and due to the large amount of people, my bucket showers are every second day. When I get settled, I 'll have long hot showers and I'll have jerry cans of water saved for emergencys. I hope that happens before my Students start to call me Ms Smelly-pits Rachel.

I have loads of incredibly itchy bumps all over me, they seem to be getting worse. I have just looked up "Scabies" on the web. Dunno. I'm not very good at self digonosis, but they are much too small for bedbugs. It says that it kicks off after a few weeks and I've ony been itchy for one. I'm not going to wait, even if I don't have scabies, I don't think I'm going to do any damage my getting ointment now. Better get onto it before my students start calling me Ms Scabby-skin Rachel.

I'm also having massive internet issues. The government here used to be communist (and they still have soviet style sculptues in the city to prove it). They still own all telecommunications. As well as being slow as immigration there appears to be a few restrictions on the web: I can login and edit this blog, but I can't veiw it. So if I repeat myself I'm sorry. Also I can't see any comments. My mother is now emailing them to me. (She's on her way to Canada at the moment, you can see where I get travel gene from huh). Also I can veiw my Myspace... but can't log in. darn.

When I get settled in I'll adjust to the limited access, I hope that happens before my students start to call me Ms Phyco-stress-head Rachel.