Returning to New Zealand

An email to the Iranian Ambassador in New Zealand

2009-06-25T06:52:00.002+01:00

I have been watching with a feeling of great impotence and also great hope the unfolding events in Iran. I wanted to tell the government that they are being watched, not just by governments, but also by individuals. So I decided to send an email to the Ambassador in New Zealand, the representative of Iran in our little isolated slice of earth in the South Pacific. I was surprised to find that we actually have an ambassador here. I figured with our tiny population he might have the time to read and maybe even respond to emails. here is what I wrote:

Subject: One voice in New Zealand listening to the thousands in Iran

ambassador@iranembassy.org.nz

To: His. Excellency, Mr. Morteza Rahmani-Movahed
Ambassador of Islamic Republic of Iran to New Zealand

Dear Sir
I’m writing to you in regards to recent events happening in Iran. The information from both Iranian media and from Iranian citizens is very disturbing.
I visited Iran with a friend in October and November of last year, for the three weeks that we were there we where awe-inspired with the majesty of Persian history, culture, architecture and poetry. Most of all we were stunned by the warmth, hospitality, education, honest and beauty of the Iranian people. From Tabriz to Shiraz, from Esfahan to Yazd we were always welcomed with open arms, open hearts and a freshly brewed cup of tea.
So it is with these memories powerfully in my mind that my heart goes out to the citizens of Iran that are not being listened to, and more than that, not being granted their constitutional right to gather, march and speak freely. The Iranian constitution clearly says:
Article 27 [Freedom of Assembly]
Public gatherings and marches may be freely held, provided arms are not carried and that they are not detrimental to the fundamental principles of Islam.
The government’s own information has stated there have been 547 arrests, and a further 10 journalists being held (non-governmental reports put the numbers much higher). The government says that they will “teach them a lesson” (English translation from Al Jazeera) those words send a chill down my spine. State television’s announcements of 10 deaths at the hands of Bisij is ten valuable human lives too many. How can a government kill its own people? How?
Nothing has effected me more than the images, video footage, and blog posts coming from inside Iran. The voices of the people calling “God is great” from their rooftops at night, the images of Neda’s last moments and the network of internet-savvy young people who are using social media to ensure that even if their voices are not heard inside Iran at least the information is getting out. These powerful words, sounds and images give me great hope that through the strength of their determination their voices will be heard. But at what cost of Persian lives and Persian freedoms?
I ask you - as a representative of your government, please call for the upholding of Iran’s constitution; please call for the right of all Persians to hold public gatherings and marches; please call for the democratic rights of the people to have their voices heard.
In anticipation for your reply and with thanks
Rachel

Back in NZ

2008-12-22T22:21:00.003+01:00

So finally I'm back, and after a month here, finally I'm blogging. No excuse really. I flew over from Melbourne Nov 22. I knew I was back in New Zealand as I exited the plane, there was the guy in the high-vis jacket who directs the big tunnel thing that attaches to the side of the plane leaning against his control panel. His walkie-talkie was turned up stupidly loud and out came the words "Nah, mate, yer kidding me, I've stuffed it right up, ay." I have no idea what he was talking about, but you just don't find that level of professional informality in many places.

I was expecting the usual 40 minutes or so to reach the gate, you know the time it takes to go though the series of halls, finding the correct baggage carousel, customs, immigration... it took only 10 minutes. there were no long halls, only 1 carousel, I think our plane was the only arrival at that time. and I cleared customs pretty fast considering I had spices and two jars of jam. New Zealand is an isolated island and it's important that no foreign insects or bacteria get in. So customs is pretty tight. The beagle (sniffer dog) didn't sit down next to my bag... he sat down next the guy next to me, the officer asked "Do you have any fruits of vegetables in your bag?" "no, none" he replied "Have you had any produce in your bag in the past few days?" 'Er, I had a mango in it yesterday." He got though ok, and the dog got a treat.

My mother, brother, brother's partner and 6 month old niece were waiting for me on the other side. there was a balloon and big painted banner and champagne... I felt all very special.

I stayed at my brother's and then my mother's, then at my brother's again. while at my mother's I got to go though all the stuff I had sent myself while away. masses of saris and beautiful silk fabric from Asia. Venetian masks, and African woodwork. there was also the stuff I thought important enough to pack away before I left, like herbs (now mouldy) and loads of old family photos. Unfortunately my furniture was sold on trademe (New Zealand's very own eBay), there is a big market for second hand good here, so I should be able to pick up some more stuff.

While I was out flouncing around the world, a lot of my friends have worked hard and built up good businesses and careers. Which is handy for someone looking for a job. I popped in to the office of a friend who happened to have a job to spare. before he could give it to me, he had to make sure everyone in the company was ok with me. This meant the other ten members of the office were called over for an informal meeting in which I needed to impress them. There is a way in which (especially in overly informal new Zealand) you interact with people in an informal manner: by using as much self depreciation as possible. And there is another way in which to behave at job interviews: by bigging yourself up as much as possible.

So at this spontaneous, informal meeting, I should have seamlessly maintained a balance between being humble and self-deprecating while also highlighting my skills and experience. I didn't. instead I chose to answer questions with a "yeah-nah, well, I kinda, sorta, worked a bit in doin stuff, but it wasn't really good" type style. Somehow they gave me the job anyway. it was very nice of them.

I work as an office administrator. in a small Wellington company. My boss (who is rather attractive and hilariously funny) occasionally reads this blog. I'm doing the same things as I did when I worked in the print shop in Edinburgh - filing, moving bits of paper about, accounts, picking up the little things that need doing when everybody is busy. The difference in my new job is that everything is VERY high tech and I'm doing a lot more in accounts. I have an overwhelming desire to print everything out and staple it together because that's just how I understand book keeping, I'm slowly taking the office backwards in file management. It's a steep learning curve, I still cant get over silicone bake ware (I mean really, you'd think it melts), but I'm actually keen to learn it. I've even enrolled in an accounting course (I've also enrolled in Argentinian tango, Bollywood dancing and oil painting to balance) and I really like the office environment; the people are cool.

So after getting a job in a week, I then managed to get the first flat that I saw. It's a really lovely two story wooden house in a valley half an hours walk from work. the house is old and cold and dark and damp. The first two people they originally wanted for the room fell though, and as I hadn't bothered looking at more than one house I was still available to move in when they called me. I live with 4 really lovely people: a public relations student, a guy who does CGI for movies, a literature student and a drama student. So we are all very cool and educated, communal, anti-TV and artsy. And yes, I'm the oldest as everyone else my age, seems to have grown up and bought their own place.

I have grand hopes for my flat. a vegie garden, painting wallpaper designs on my walls and building a mezzanine.

I'm off to a good start but I'm still not settled. I'm deeply afraid of being bored, or worse, being boring. Here I'm not exotic or foreign, I'm just like everyone else. Having travelled is a very typical thing. So I'll keep focusing on my job and getting better at it, on my flat and making it spectacular, on my courses so I develop new skills and on my family so I become my niece's favourite aunt and I'll just see where it all leads me.

Melbourne is Fantastic!

2008-11-28T00:14:00.003+01:00

After exotic and immense Persia, we spent a couple of nights in Dubai. The idea was that we would be in Tehran for the US election, but we found out the election results on the cool little personal TV screen on the Emirates flight into Dubai.

Tristam described Dubai as the Las Vegas of the middle east. I have never been o Las Vegas, but the description is apt. We hung out in malls, checked out the gold souk, marveled at what people can do and took a 'desert safari' which was a package deal that included driving over sand dunes, banquet meal, henna tattoo and a belly dancing show. Dubai is a great stop for a couple of days. It was cool to walk though a mall and see European shops butted up to North American shops. It was a novelty (the novelty was taken to the extreme when Tristam spent an hour skiing inside one shopping mall) I'm glad we went, I'm glad we I got to see it... next time I go I'll be sure to take more money.

Indy picked me up from the airport just after 3am (that's friendship), I lost a day flying back, The air in Melbourne was light and warm and smelt of fresh gum trees and Jasmine. Memories of normal stuff came flooding back, like letterboxes and a opossum sitting on a power line. Indy and Nareen had pitched a tent in their back yard for me, which meant I had my very own room and it was outside the house so I could sleep in when the kids woke up. That first night (early day) I fell asleep to the sound of the magpies and bell birds waking up and chirping. I thought it sounded just like R2D2 outside my tent.

Melbourne is brilliant. While I was there I stayed at 5 different peoples houses (that's an average of two nights in each bed). when you stay at another's place you get to have a wee peek into their life, just for a moment see what they are up to and what matters to them. I love it. I can also see why so many people emigrate to the Antipodes; the lifestyle, weather, food and attitude of the people is just better, more relaxed and sunnier. And might I add, in Edinburgh I didn't get to see as many people as I wanted to, even though I was there for 2 months. Melbourne was different people really made an effort to come out and find me when they found out that I was there. That felt good. (the important people in Edinburgh were awesomely hospitable of course)

I was expecting it to be quieter, but I had forgotten hoe raucous the Australian wildlife could be. I saw splendidly coloured parrots in trees in Melbourne city, kangaroos bouncing through an inner city park. For the weekend I got out to the bus and heard koalas grunting and grizzling. Emely kindly took me out to see her family, swim in a local river and raft where the platypus play (we didn't see any on this trip).

I finally got to catch up with Flic, (you may remember her from Uganda/Rwanda/Congo/Burundi)She is working hard in landscape gardening, she is chilled and ace, and every bit as awesome as the day I met her. Both she and her family bent over backwards providing me with food, pick ups and drop-offs, train tickets, internet, maps, laundry... everything that a traveller needs. I'm looking forward to getting settled into New Zealand so I can return the hospitality.

Out of all the places I have traveled to I think Melbourne is the most livable. I have a few friends there who have now made it their home. A lot of the people I used to hang out with 8 years ago now have houses and kids. It kind of feels like being in a sort of time machine, I went away and when I got back everyone had moved on, grown up. I'm still dealing with the little things that changed while I was in Africa (moving ads in the train stations - like Harry Potter pictures, and iphones, and google street view) its kind of strange to see friends in such dramatically different roles without getting to see all the little stages and developments that led them there. It's kinda weird, but mostly cool.

I just want to say hi to all those lovely people who took me out, showed me around, reacquainted me with Melbourne, met up for me for tea, gave me a place to stay, extended the warmest welcome and reinforced a friendship... you all have a place to stay with me, just as soon as I find a place: Indy, Nareen, Taj, Sage and Myrtle; Flic, Glen, Maryin, Philip, Charlie and Jack, Jen, Tim, Will and George; Emely and Danny; Tosie, Kiowa, Elaina, Annie and Mark; Anita, Amy, Bridget, Marcus, J'nel, Abby, Hawthorn, Selene, Shelia, Madeline and Cat.

I know for the rest of you, that was really boring, but those people are really very cool.

Leaving Iran

2008-11-03T15:22:00.005+01:00

I’m typing this from a beautiful wooden table in Indy and Nareen’s kitchen looking out over their ecologically designed extension, awesome backyard and their lovely black dog sleeping in the shade. But before I got here we were in Iran.

There are two things that have made this travel experience really different this time. firstly travelling with a man in the middle east is wonderfully relaxing. I was hardly ever approached by anyone wanting anything, I got to contribute to conversations but never had to put in any ground work. When we were together men only spoke to Tristam, and women generally stayed away. Tristam was also approached for all decision making. I was thoroughly looked after for the whole trip, (I might add that Tristam booked all flights, delt with visas and did all that boring stuff I normally have to do y myself) bliss. The other thing that altered my experience was having an Ipod. I got an Ipod shuffle while I was in Sudan, but it wasn't till September that I got it to work. It was loaded up with some of my favorite music. I waited in the Turkey/Iran boarder queue listening to big band stripper music; I crossed the dry northern desert lands of Iran listening to Cabaret, Elvis, Kylie, Scott Joplin and banjo music; I walked down the streets of Tehran listening to All that jazz, and I approached customs in Australia with the theme from the Good the Bad and the Ugly playing in my ears. It really does change the experience.

I ended my last blog saying something about the roads in Tehran being notorious and Allah willing we’ll be ok. Well maybe Allah didn’t will it, maybe Allah doesn’t appreciate being referred to in the blog of an atheist, or perhaps even Allah exists. Tristam got hit by a bus in Tehran. He’s absolutely fine now, but I can’t imagine it was a pleasant experience for him.

Tristam had gone to the former American embassy to see if he could get some photographs of the anniversary of the day American hostages were released from the embassy building. It’s now officially called the “US den of espionage” It’s famous for its walls painted with anti-American images, and is seen the news when there is any US flag burning going on in the city. The street has 4 lanes of very fast traffic going in one direction… I say lanes, but that really just means that there are white lines painted on the road, I don’t mean to imply that the cars were in any sort of formation. The road also has one bus lane; the buses go in the opposite direction.

Tristam was hit on the shoulder and spent the rest of the afternoon in the hospital getting x-rays and such. I was blissfully unaware on the other side of town mulling about the shops and attempting to post packages. The most difficult thing I had to contend with that afternoon (well aside from not being able to post packages cause the customs man wasn't working that day) was the fact that for every women's clothing shop, there was about 6 men's fashion shops. I'm used to the ratio being inverse. with women draped in a black uniform, the men are the peacocks in Iran.

There is a saying in Tehran: if you hit a person with your car, you better drive back over them to make sure they are properly dead. The post-hitting-someone paperwork is pretty intensive. Our last day in Tehran was spent mostly in police stations and at the translators where Tristam made an official statement making no claim against the driver.

The final count of nose plasters seen was 12: 5 on boys and 7 on girls... that's a lotta nose jobs.

Postcards from the Axis of Evil

2008-11-01T10:48:00.011+01:00

I'm on one of those crappy computers again, the kind that has already crashed 3 times, is even slower than my typing and where the space bar only works if you tap it hard on the right side at an angle of 45 degrees.

On top of that my email supplier (myway) have recently changed all there software so my email account is practically unusable. So with Facebook and Myspace banned I'm just going to leave a wee note till I should have full access in Dubai next week: Flic, Em and Indi can't wait to see ya, Indi I'd LOVE it if you could meet me at the airport in the early hours of the morning (Emirates airlines, EK404 from Dubai to Tullamarine Airport Arriving 0130, Sunday Nov 9... it stops somewhere along the way, I don't know where, and if I was a more superstitious person I would be concerned about my flight number being 404: internet code for dunno, can't find it).

Despite the bad computers Iran remains fantastic. It's really lovely here, really. The people are lovely, the architecture is incredible and the history is astounding. We are in a place called Yazd right now. I'll pop a map in so you can see. This place is said to have had a continuous settlement here for 7000 years. 7000! It was visited by Marco Polo and Alexander the Great.

Iran is full of surprises. Before I came, I knew if was beautiful from the lovely Persia Tourism ad campaigns we got on Arab satellite TV in Africa. And I knew it was one of those bad countries that the US want to bomb. I had visions of soldiers on every corner, crippling effects of sanctions restricting all forms of commerce, women draped in black scuttling away from view, gender segregation in every part of life, and problems with bureaucracy.

Nope, it's not like that at all. there are a few elements of truth in it though. some women do where a long black cape from there head, but faces are open and most women wear a combination of headscarf, a 3/4 length fitted jacket (they are awesome, I'm going to buy several before I leave, perfect length for business jacket or dress) and slim trousers - in fact hipster skinny jeans are popular here (and muffin tops are always hidden).

Also popular are nose jobs. So far we have seen 6 plastered noses (5 girls, 1 guy) and we haven't yet got to the nose-job capital; Tehran.

Her are a couple of pretty accurate examples I got from the web, I image searched "Iranian womens clothes" because "Iranian women's clothes" with the apostrophe was blocked by the government.

There is a bit of gender segregation. On public buses, the men occupy the front and the women the back. In shared taxis seating is arranged so that unrelated men and women are not sitting together. Only once has a hotel asked Tristam and myself if we are married when we checked in, and When Tristam answered no (I would have lied) it didn't appear to make a difference. We have always been given seats next to each other on long distance buses and I have not yet been kicked out of a men-only place like a tea-house or water-pipe place.

There is general discontent with the government. Many of the people we have spoken with (including even soldiers) voice their objections. They are are interesting in hearing our opinions... which are always reserved. They don't want to be seen as being the same as their government. This was a very similar point of view as in Sudan where they wanted it to be known that the decisions of their government were not theirs and didn't represent who they are, I'm sure many others can empathise (Americans). They seem patient to wait till the regime changes. No one wants blood.

So there are sanctions here. which for us means we can't use credit/debit cards or travellers cheques in the country. In theory it means Iran has no international trade with UN nations. In reality we can buy big purchases with all major credit cards (using an off shore account). And even though there is no McDonalds or Starbucks the place is awash with Coke, Pepsi etc (they have factories here and a copyright from before the restrictions) and enough local industries of fast food chains and local banks with ATMs that it doesn't seem to make that much difference to day to day life. Also there will always be someone who will buy their oil.

We are not the only tourists here. Every city we have been to (admittedly having only 18 days here we are hitting all the big ticket spots) we have bumped into loads of foreigners, mostly European. there was even one American (there are allowed in if they give a full itinerary of exactly where they intend to be, or if they go on a government tour). We've seen travellers by motorbike, push-bike, jeep and with loads of kids. There are also loads of internal tourists. It can be hard here to get a visa, and as Iran is so diverse and ideal for tourism many Iranians travel though there own country. Most surprisingly are the tour buses, huge groups of Dutch, French, German or New Zealand old people are herded around important sites.

Tonight we catch the overnight train to Tehran. The traffic there is said to be horrendous, already we have experienced some frightening examples of Iranian driving, it would have been hair raising if my hair was not flattened beneath my headscarf. Allah willing we'll be ok.

Somewhere between Iraq and a hard place

2008-10-19T18:21:00.001+01:00

I'm in Iran! But I'll get to that soon, first I have to get through Turkey.

Istanbul continued to delight. I had the fantastic experience of a traditional bathhouse. I was directed through the women's door and greeted by a 70 (or so) year old woman in only pants who knew about four words of English, and knew how to use them well. "you, here" she directed me to the change room, "you, here, wet" she directed me to the basins where I poured water over myself. The building was sublime, massive domed ceiling and beautiful light filtered through the steam. There was another woman there for her regular shower, having a smoke and chatting on her phone which added to the atmosphere but took away the grandness of the experience a bit. The 70 year old directed me to a low stone table in the center of the room "you, here" she scrubbed me thoroughly with a loofah, "you, wet" I rinsed off "you, here" she soaped me up and gave me an intense massage with soap foam. "you, wet" rinse, "you, here, dry" sauna, "you, wet" cool off, "you, dry" she handed me a towel.

It was lovely, I felt all warm and soft afterwards, sad though to see that in a place that would once have been a thriving hub of social networking and conversation I was the only person there for the better part of an hour. Standing around naked is not really a a problem for me (I spent too long in Europe for nudity to be an issue) but I gotta say, I don't think and one would have a problem with body confidence when they are hanging out with a over weight 70 year old lady only wearing wet pants.

We also went into a byzantine underground water reservoir, to a roman viaduct, on a cruise up the passage of water that joins the Mediterranean sea to the Black sea and divides Europe from Asia, to the Islamic art museum, Archaeological museum, bazaars, strolled though alleys and along the waterfront and many cafes. Are you impressed? I am; it was very easy to be entertained without even leaving our sweet street of carpet shops and restaurants.

On Wednesday night we got on a train to Tehran. Magic. 3 nights and 4 days of watching the landscape slowly merge from Western Turkey into Kazakhstan. We crossed Lake Van in the middle of a still and moonlit night with a thunderstorm the flickered on the horizon. We arrived on the other side at 2am and got on another train. It was here not far from the borders of Iraq and Georgia that we shared and cabin with two socially awkward talkative Iranian men. At 5am we reached the Turkish boarder. I tucked my hair away in a little bonnet that sits under my head scarf. The red dye in has washed out so I pretty much have pink hair now. Best keep it totally hidden. Sometimes I think I should rename this blog "Rachel's hair" because I really do spent an inordinate amount of time referring to my hair.

Back in the train and the most painless border crossing into Iran, our passports were checked for the Turkish departure stamp, then taken, then returned with a Iranian entry stamp, then checked. Awesome, I slept through most of it, only waking up to to the call of "passport" each now and again.

We decided not to get off in Tehran, choosing instead to get off at a small town of only 2 million people near the border (this meant a beautiful introduction to the country and also not spending another 7 hours in the train cabin with the two socially awkward and talkative Iranians). Tabriz is wonderful. Iran is fantastic.

We have been here a day and a half, we have met friendly, kind, interesting people, we have wandered though clean, organised streets, bubbling market places, lively restaurants, and brightly lit malls. We have had many cups of tea and never once paid for a cup.

Today we went out of town to visit a village known for its houses carved out of strange rock formations. It's called Kandovan. Lovely, beautiful, superb.

So far the only downfalls of visiting here is that wearing the head scarf is somewhat inconvenient, and I can't access myspace or facebook. I'm not a huge drinker so the lack of booze is no biggie. The biggest issue before getting here was sorting out money, because of sanctions we have to carry cash (like in Sudan, it's not possible to use cards or travellers cheques... not that travellers cheques ever were very useful after ATMs spread across the world). It was difficult to predict how much US dollars to bring. Now we are here, we over estimated the inflation and also found that euros and pounds can also be exchanged on the black market.

That's it for now, I'm kinda overwhelmed by the beauty and serenity of this city. Iran is cool. Breath out, I'm safe and happy.

Somewhere between Asia and Europe

2008-10-12T14:47:00.002+01:00

Ok, I'm back into blogging again, this time I'm coming live to you via blogspot, myspace and facebook. Now I have truly become one of those people who is easy to stalk.

I'm in Istanbul. Turkey is mostly in Asia but a bit of it is in European and Istanbul is a city spanning both continents. It was a 5 hour easyjet flight from London. I slept for most of it. New Zealanders don't have to pay for visas here. Almost everybody else does. It most likely has something to do with World War One when the Turks were fighting against the Ottoman empire: The Australia and New Zealand Army Corps were sent in as cannon fodder at Gallipoli. Many lost their lives in the battle that wikipedia calls 'defining'. That all happened back when Istanbul was called Constantinople... for some reason Australians have to pay 20 euro visa entry.

Istanbul was Constantinople
Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Now it's Turkish delight on a moonlit night

Our entry into the city was splendid, A bus ride took us straight to the train station where we booked our tickets for Iran. The ticket guy found my head-scarfed photo from my Iranian visa very amusing in comparison to my actual head that is surrounded by fluffy red hair (the blonde summer really shredded my hair). A ferry took us from the Asian side to the European side as the sun set and the lights of the city came on and lit up the stunning mosques on the surrounding hills. To me the minarets look like fairytale castle turrets.

Every gal in Constantinople
Lives in Istanbul, not Constantinople
So if you've a date in Constantinople
She'll be waiting in Istanbul

One of the best things about Istanbul is that we have the best guide in the city. Akanksha has been showing us all the best in Turkish eating, drinking, sights, and shopping. AK worked with me in Ethiopia, she has been teaching here ever since she left Africa months ago. She is conversational in Turkish and has an excellent insight into the culture and lifestyle. Next week she is taking me to a hamam, a traditional Turkish bathhouse.

Even old New York was once New Amsterdam
Why they changed it I can't say
People just liked it better that way

Turkey is pretty. it has carpets and cats and Turkish delight and wonderful food and friendly people. I've now been into a mosque for the first time ever. I can only compare it to entering a large church. In a church the walls and floor are rugged exposed wood or stone that conveys the construction of the building, there are seats and aisles and a sense of order, of structure and of how you are expected to behave. The mosque we went into (the blue mosque) had the same immense ceilings and enormous space as any of the big cathedrals but the feel was strangely homely. We had to take our shoes off before we entered and the floor was covered wall to wall with soft bouncy carpet. The walls were tiled with floral tiles much like what you would find in your grandma's kitchen or bathroom. But most of all there was space; no chairs or aisles just one big fun romper-room of carpeted space. I liked it, it was warm, comfortable and free. I think mosques will be the new churches.

Istanbul was Constantinople
Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Why did Constantinople get the works
That's nobody's business but the Turks

Totally off the topic from places of monotheistic worship and 1950s swing tunes, before I left the UK I was impressed to be able to buy a new mooncup from Boots. Boots is a very mainstream high street chemist that now stocks hippy alternatives to tampons (mooncup.com) it hasn't yet started stocking beppys (another brilliant alternative to tampons that I've just found out about: www.beppy.com). But they do have soft disposable vibrating cockrings. Now that's really progressive for such a mainstream store. I'm impressed.

We leave for Iran Wednesday night. It's a 3 day train ride. I have got covering clothes and bought a new headscarf, I'm not carrying any alcohol, Rushdie books or pork products, so I think I'm ready. Actually I can't wait.

New tats, being inconvenient and getting stuff sorted

2008-09-24T17:51:00.007+01:00

The less often I post the more difficult it is to get started. It's been months, I know. I'm surrounded by computers, but they are used a hell of a lot more than the computers that lie about collecting dust and being used for games of solitaire in Africa.

Actually I have had loads of time on the internet, but due to the super fast speed of connection here I have been spending a large amount of time streaming telly, and surfing. here are a few sites you might like: for your inner geek there's a library of excellent lectures on all things possible, probable and wonderful; www.ted.com. For your inner tabloid addict here's a left wing links and pillow talk www.dailybedpost.com. For your inner skiver go to http://failblog.org or to http://engrishfunny.com. I also enjoy reading my friend Sian's blog on myspace: www.myspace.com/daisyflip. I also like to keep up with current affairs by watching comedy programs... far more interesting than actual news. For US www.thedailyshow.com and for UK I love mock the week on www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer.

So Edinburgh was good. Of course I had expectations, I should have learnt that it's always unrealistic to have expectations. I didn't get the work I had hoped for till the last couple of weeks, travel expenses to the middle east are adding up, shipping boxes to NZ is not the simplest task and as brutal as I was with my stuff I just won't part with the kind of crap that the rest of you wouldn't pick up from a charity shop free bin.

Missy moved to England, so instead of spreading myself out dossing on sofas I pretty much stayed at the house of the lovely Daves. Between pushing myself into a crammed house and demanding pity-work from my old bosses I didn't really slide back into Edinburgh life as well as I had hoped. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time up there and it was fantastic to catch up with old friends, make new acquaintances and to promote a few people from being acquaintances to friends. I don't seem to go straight into making new friends these days.

I worked back at Minuteman for a couple of weeks just before I left. That was the best. I really do love the printing industry. the work is so varied. Despite not having worked there for years I found that I could take a job from first contact to dispatch myself without too much fuss. The guys at Minuteman are also brilliant, being very kind and welcoming even when I bound 20 books back to front or when I kept using the laminator as a keyboard (it was right infront of a computer monitor). So in a city that I don't fit anymore, there are still warm places for me.

A lot of my friends are getting married and having babies. I know it's normal when you are in your 30s. But it just feels like suddenly all the women around me are hearing the ticking of their biological clocks. I think my biological clock is digital: it just doesn't tick at all, one day I'll break, or fade out or suddenly a really loud alarm will go off and wake me up from a nice dream in a frantic and desperate panic. Till then it's silent.

I have 3 more tattoos... that's 300% more than before. My first tattoo is a snake on my back: I designed it for ages, The snake symbolises transience, versatility and adaptation, it is also mythologically symbolic of hidden wisdom, or the keeper of knowledge. Inside the snake there is a combination of alchemy, astrological, pagan and astronomical symbols that are positioned in relation to the charkra points along my spine. In contrast the last three tattoos I got were on a whim... and they are novelty tats for pretty much only comedy value. I have on my fingers a moustache, a goatee and a teardrop.

By the way, I'm not blonde anymore, I have gone back to being a redhead. That blonde hair really did make my face look even pinker didn't it.

So one thing I haven't mentioned but really should is that I'm in a relationship. Yep, me. I haven't mentioned it because I'm in denial. It was unintentional but actually quite lovely. I have been seduced and wooed by Tristam (refer to previous posts: Somaliland), and not for the first time either, we hooked up in design school a decade ago. I don't think I'm very good at dating... not believing that long term monogamy is a natural human state doesn't really help. However Tristam is awesome and worthy of giving it a good ol' college try.

We are travelling together to Turkey tomorrow, then into Iran overland by train. We'll be in Tehran on November 4th during the American presidential elections. Then a couple of days in Dubai, Tristam heads to NZ from there, I'll spend a couple of weeks in Melbourne catching up with friends. I get to Wellington November 22. I'll be looking for a job and a place to live. If you have a place, I'm very lovely and quite efficient at doing stuff.

I'm all packed, I didn't actually sort out getting all my stuff back to New Zealand. If I was Buddhist I'd say that material possessions will never lead to spiritual enlightenment, but I'm not so I say I like my stuff and I'm not going to chuck it. Guess I'll just keep a box here at Tristam's house for a while. I've already invaded his itunes with my gay man's taste in music. His extensive U2 and Bjork collection is now infused with Dolly Parton, Doris Day, Big Band stripper classics and show tunes.

A different world, a different pace of life

2008-08-07T17:32:00.002+01:00

I freaked out in a Sainsburys. So much food, so organised. It was a good freak-out. I think I appreciated western civilisation so much more now. Developed countries have really got it together, and it takes all of us to believe in it, and pay our taxes and question our government and all those things that we do that make it work.

The British in particular have dedication to their society and the rules. They won't hesitate to tut if you cut in a queue. Frustrations are regularly vented with letters to the editor or talk back radio. Old people seem to be the moral voice of the the media. I love it.

about a lovely estate in Reading with a jiffy bag on my head pretending to play keyboard, lounging by the pool, and cruising about the Thames in a boat. So just to do a bit of Shortly after writing the last blog entry Missy got a call from The Damned, a British punk band (www.officialdamned.com), asking her to be in a youtube music video for a new song. She asked if I could come along too. And low and behold I got a part in the video that involved frolickingshameless name dropping for those of you who know music. Aside from hanging with The Damned band members and staying a night in the Reading studio; I sat by the pool with Patricia Morrison who was in Sisters of Mercy and had a cup of tea with Barry the drummer from Jethro Tull. Not bad for someone who earlier the same month was checking her plate for cockroaches before eating.

I had a fabulous time staying with Missy. She is doing really well for herself and is one of the few people talented enough to make a living from performance alone.

In Edinburgh I was greeted at the train station by a teary eyed Gemma carrying flowers, shortbread and gin and tonics. Wow, what a welcome back. David, Gemma and I went to the Royal Mile for a pub meal. I had haggis, neeps and taties. Bliss.

David has kindly put me up. He and his lovely flatmate Dave are exceptional hosts to accommodate me despite their house undergoing renovations at the moment. I'm digging up old boxes I had left behind before I went travelling and discovering a delightful selection of suspenders, tutus, boas, bras and pants.

means I I arrived on Thursday with the intention of finding a minimum wadge summer job like waitressing. By Monday I had secured two really good jobs. During the day I'm assisting with promotions and publicity for City of the Dead, my old ghost tour company. Which essentiallystand by the signboards on the royal mile selling tickets and giving out flyers.

At night I work in the Speigel gardens, an excellent fringe festival venue known mostly for the amazing Speigel tent. I work at Paul Zenon's Marquee de Sideshow. It's a good old fashioned freak show. I am one of the people who sprook. Sprooking is the "ROLL-UP ROLL-IN ladies and gentlemen our next astounding show is about to begin..." The performers themselves are the best at it, but I'm slowly picking it up. Although I did announce one of the performers as "Al the Hymen Knot" instead of the Human Knot.

I'm a bit star struck with the performers, Paul has found top quality acts that I have either seen perform before of have heard of. These guys are awesome. Space Cowboy and Shep Huntley from Australia are famous on the sideshow and street performance circuit, Space Cowboy is the Guinness book of record holder for sword swallowing. Captian Frodo is a Norwegian contortionist who squeezes through two tennis rackets. Kitten of the Keys is a musical burlesque cabaret performer. There are different acts every night, it's hard for me not to go all groupie on them.

Despite the miserable weather, there is nowhere I would rather be right now than encouraging punters to experience the astounding world of the modern freakshow or insisting that they must get locked in a mausoleum with an active poltergeist.

Back to Civilisation

2008-07-28T09:08:00.004+01:00

Three continents in one week, phew.

Leaving Yemen, I had way too much stuff. In the end I had accumulated about 30kg. As I weigh 57kg you should be very impressed that I can carry that amount up and down stairs and for the 100 metres between where the taxi had to stop and where the airport trolleys started. Not only was it too much in weight, it was dispersed amongst various packs and bags, totally inappropriate for airline travel.

A little old Yemeni man in the airport saw me attempting to stuff various random articles into the flap of my backpack designed to hide the straps and after polite conversation asked me if I wanted him to carry anything to London.

Excellent, I got a mule to transport my excess baggage. And it worked out for him too, as he could buy 4 cartons of smokes from the on-board duty free. I carried two cartons for him through customs. He was travelling on a British passport, I think they must give UK citizenship away in cornflakes packets now, because I was one of the few people on the flight with a English speaker's accent... and the only one who had to queue through the foreigners immigration section. My poor mule had to wait an hour for me to get throughto the other side.

Ah London. I didn't really consider it to be pretty before. Tristam lives in Islington on the edge of Camden (the cool suburb with the alternative/punk/goth/rock shops). It's so green and the moment warm and sunny too.

The thing that takes away the pleasure of London for me is the underground. It's not a bad experience, but it just seems to drain time and life out of the city. It also robs me of my understanding of the size, scale and layout. So I made an effort to stay above ground as much as possible and also avoid changing stations with multiple junctions. This meant I spent a lot of time wandering in and out of shops in the sunlight and not that much time scurring around tunnels.

Tristam's flat is really high tec. he doesn't have a telly, or CD player, or radio, or satelite. But, he has internet: fast, smooth, unblocked internet on clean, efficient apple computers. He can do stuff like change music playing through the house speakers using his (i)phone.

I got the most important thing done: I got my new passport. I didn't manage to fill up all my pages in my last passport despite asking the Yemenese officials specifically to stamp the two remaining blank pages. Now I have another ten years, and another 48 pages to fill.

I had loads of grand intentions, I was going to write a resume, and re-learn how to use a Mac, learn the new design programs that have been released over the past decade, I was going to apply for an Iranian visa, sort out my photos and post stuff back to NZ. I didn't.

Instead I have spent the past two weeks doing nothing, and (despite feeling a bit guilty for not being more motivated) enjoyed the absolute pleasure of being surrounded by a city that really works. Where health care is taken for granted and respect for human life and others' property is innate. Where things are clean and beautiful and they work. Where if something is not right we complain because we expect better. Where there are rubbish bins, and people are hired with taxpayers money to collect that rubbish and deal with it. Where people do their jobs, and do them well. Where people pay taxes because we understand, support and have a choice in where our money is going. Where there are solutions, and ways to deal with problems. Where you know if you have a problem there will be someone there to help you, and if you see someone else with a problem, you can help them, because there are ways to get stuff done.

It works. and it feels good to be part of it.

London was brilliant. I'm now up in Cheltenham with Missy, I'm re-integrating from being a scruffy backpacker to a glamorous burlesque performer... I'm blonde, and clean and smell a lot better. All I need now is motivation to get stuff done. I think that will come when I reach the bottom of my limited finances. Nothing inspires me to work more than having to.

Yemen: Yeah Man!

2008-07-11T16:29:00.002+01:00

The city of Sana'a has to be one of the most beautiful places i have ever visited... Up there with Edinburgh and Venice. Pity I have no photographic record of its beauty. My photos from when I was here in September where stolen with a pile of other Cd's (including all my photos from Egypt). And now my camera itself is stolen. I know I mentioned it in my last post... but I'm still feeling it and what's a blog if not a place to share ones pain.

It rains frequently here. I got caught in a drenching the other day. I couldn't help but notice that within an hour all the water in the city had conveniently drained away to the main roads that are about a metre below the rest of the city for this exact reason. It just works. there are no puddles, no mud, no festerng mosquito breeding grounds. I love it when humans get together and think about stuff before they do it. Even though there are no festering puddles, I am covered in mosquito bites.

The food is great. Darius and I have been overloading on chicken. It's not like you can't get chicken in Ethiopia, you can in nice restaurants in the form of spicy chicken and onion curry. It's flavored with burbery which I think is the only spice used in Ethiopia, so it kinda tastes like every other dish. Here we have had chicken grilled, fried, boiled, curried, minced and in some indistinguishable form on the flight over. Yum.

On the flight over I was surprised to note that none of our airline hostesses had their heads covered. In fact they where wearing very tight high waisted slacks and very light weight blouses, too much makeup and VPLs. This is all in stark contrast to the black triangles seen on the streets after exiting the plane. In one of the markets I was surrounded by hundreds of them, They are very menacing looking in large numbers. They just don't look human. Darius and I were counting how many pairs of Yemeni women's lips we could spot. In our first couple of days we got about 4 pairs. What Sana'a lacks in women's lips it makes up in boys eyes. Stunning greens and blues on olive skin. Simply beautiful.

Darius has left for Aden, a former British colony or protectorate or something by the beach.

I decided to go and get a waxing. It turned out to be a bad waxing. So in case you are not familiar with the hidden arts of the beauty salon: a good waxing is when a lady smears luke warm goop over your flesh then fiercely rips it off taking with it all your hair by the roots. What makes it a good thing is that the lady is wearing white and she smells pretty and she does things with fresh white towels that protect your modesty there is tranquil music playing softly in the background of the small neutral toned private room. So even though you are lying half naked and in a fair amount of pain as you have half your thatch ripped from your body you kind of feel special and like it is some sort of luxurious treat.

A bad waxing is much the same except you don't feel like it's a special treat worth all that money you have paid for, and you leave with a lot of prickly hair still jotting out of your red-raw flesh. In Yemen there appears to be two levels of female modesty. there is the extreme cover-up outdoors, then there is the oh-we-are-all-female-there's-nothing-to-hide attitude of the beauty salon that has one room. I got my arms, legs, pits (called "underarm" in respectable beauty salons) waxed in front of continuous traffic of women and all their herds of children. Some of the kids were looking a bit too over 8 and male to be watching.

When it came to getting my bikini line done I looked apprehensively and the onlookers and the lady (not wearing white, not smelling pretty and whose left eyebrow was over plucked and right eyebrow in desperate need of tweezers) who didn't speak a word of English smiled and and took me behind a curtain to lie in the concrete floor amongst some manky towels and old pots. She started off enthusiastically to the point of furiously. As I'm not circumcised I felt she was getting too close to territory that she probably has no experience of. So I stopped her, paid her and left the salon with patchy prickly hair and red skin from shoulder to toe. I'll going to have to fix this up with a razor at some point.

Bad waxing, but fantastic cultural experience. I'm off to London tomorrow. I have more luggage that I have ever had before. it's ridiculous

Comments

2008-07-08T13:52:00.003+01:00

Wow!

Because I haven't been able to access this site due to Ethiopia's really sucky paraniod government, I have not read any of your comments for the past 9 months. So what a treat it is to be able to read them now.

Thank you Cat, Carrie and Cairo Gal. Thanks also to Rosa, Raelene and Randoms. And Thanks again to Flic and Brad, I need to catch up on your adventures too.

Miss you all, and I'm delighted to be back in touch... right, I'm off to update my myspace... My bro even has a page now.

Out of Africa.

2008-07-08T11:26:00.002+01:00

I'm an Aunty! My brother is a pa, my parents are grandparetns and we have all moved up a rung on the generational ladder. My brother and his gal have a beautiful wee daughter called Madeline. I'm tickled pink.

So I have finally left Ethiopia. I'm now in Yemen. Yemen rocks! Maybe it is just the comparrison for living in a stinky underdeveloped place for so long. But everything here is just do godamm beautiful.

The yearbook never got printed. I got the files to the printers two days before the deadline, they took over a week to print off a one page proof and then said that they could produce all the books on just two days. (x500 64pp full colour, saddle stiched... aye right) I signed the approval only on the condition that they would be done within the time frame... they were saying 'no problem' right up until the night before, then turned off their phones on the day. Suck.

And another sucky thing is that my camera is stolen. We (Sarah, Darius and I) had a goodbye party at our house, loads of food, chat, drink and all our staff. Had my camera out... as I do at parties and it dissappeared during the night. It was obivious it was gone the next day... but it wasn't until yesterday weh I was doing my final packing that I realised my camera battery charger was missing from the kitchen. Stink.

The thing that pisses me off most, is not the fact that we knew and trusted everyone in our house that night. it is the reaction of anyone who hears that the camera was stolen: "where was it" "it was on the table" "Oh, you should have never left it there." It's the exact attitude that the theif would have had. It's never the mistake of the criminal... it's always seen as the fault of the victim. That's why there is locks on the refridigerators here.

Darius also had a gold neacklace stiolen from the house. Obiviously by the maids, we told the school's owners that we were suspicious so they went thought the girls room, taking everything appaer... aquward, they eventually found a bag with some of Darius' stuff from the same place that he had the neaklace, but no neaklace. They are going to be fired.

It left a real bitter taste on what otherwise would have been a sad and sweet departure.

The school managers were wonderful rigt up till the very end, they gave us our promised 500 dollars US no problems and drove us to the airport. It was sad to say goodbye to them, they really are good people.

I'm here in Sana'a again with Darius. By concidence we got the same flight over. He is heading back to Ethiopia then to Canada in a week. I'm going to London in a few days.

Getting ready to leave Africa

2008-06-24T13:46:00.001+01:00

In 13 days (that's 312 hours, or 18,720 minutes) I'll be leaving Addis and Ethiopia and the Horn of Africa and Africa itself to head back to the UK. I have to admit, I'm getting all sentimental. What was annoying yesterday is going back to being endearing.

Peter, The British teacher who came in to teach grades 3 and 4 did a runner. He took a two-week holiday, returned to collect his pay and then disappeared. After two weeks we started to get a bit concerned, we tried to track down his friends though facebook. After 3 weeks, we called the British Embassy and told them we had misplaced an Englishman. They took my number and called me back the next day to tell me that he was safe and well in Thailand where he had been for the past two weeks.

So, leaving and not telling us was a bit rubbish, so was taking a two week holiday, popping back for pay-day and then naffing off. But in his defence: after he collected his waged he left the flat money for the maid and the phone bill. He also left behind a load of teaching materials and some computer equipment that will be given to the school which is properly equivalent in value to his monthly wage. And he left behind a load of (unmarked) tests and his mark book, so we have something that we can use to give the kids grades. So despite the fact he did a runner, his departure leaves less of a bitter taste than Ebony, who still hasn't paid her phone bill nor has her boyfriend returned the stuff he took... ok, let’s face it: stole.

Grade 3 and 4 are getting a bit paranoid, their foreign teachers keep leaving them without saying goodbye. Poor kids.

My computer had a few virus problems, so I got the whole thing re-formatted at an internet café around the corner from the school. It was one of those strange moments: walking down the un-sealed street through a small herd of mixed animals carrying my CPU. As I made my way through the goats, sheep, two cows, a donkey and a horse, the herder, wearing a traditional blanket around him and carrying a long stick, reached into his pocket to answer his mobile phone.

The yearbook is done. I really enjoyed doing it, there are many changes that I would like to make, but it's at the printers and I'm hoping they do a good job.

I've done most of my work, what is left is giving and grading the final exams. Then the closing day celebrations. I have been told that I shall be the master of ceremonies. Yep, get that white face up there on stage, always looks good for the public image.

The school really wants me to stay another year, hey have been very persistent, it is flattering; I respect and like my bosses. But I said that the only way I would do that is if they moved the whole school, all the students, most of the staff and the owners to a different country. I really love the school and the people, but I would go insane if I lived here another year. Unfortunately my ‘no’ was not good enough. So I enlisted the help of my mother who wrote an email detailing the reasons why I just can’t stay another year in Ethiopia. The second they read her letter, they all backed off and are no longer insisting I stay. Even in my 30s my ma has got my back.

May: not spectacular

2008-06-17T13:59:00.000+01:00

This is the third time I’m writing this, last time I managed to complete the whole thing before the computer fucked up. It’s so typical here. It is so frustrating.

May has not been the best moth all told. The best bits seemed to come from the anticipation of leaving. I’m at that exciting time of planning and booking journeys. I depart Addis on the 8th of July. I’ll spend 4 days back in Yemen before heading to London. There I’ll hang with Tristam for a couple of weeks, acclimatize to modern living, give myself a make over. There is going to be a lot of scrubbing and strategic hair removal. Then I’ll spend a few nights with Missy and up to Edinburgh in August. I’ve been counting down the days for ages. 24 days until I leave Ethiopia.

Some kid stole my wallet. I share an office with 3 other unit leaders. It is where the naughty kids are sent. This particular 15 year old lad was left alone in the office and found my wallet on my desk to be irresistible. I went to all the upper grade classes and told them that the wallet was protected by ‘the law of karma’ and that whosoever had it would feel the ‘curse’ until it returned. They would be plagued by bad luck, their friends would exclude them and their parents wouldn’t listen to them … and all other things that adolescents feel anyway. I was exploiting my dark wardrobe and innate weirdness.

It could have been the threat of the curse or the other unit leaders’ interrogation methods. But the boy confessed and brought it back, two weeks later he bought back the photo of missy and myself from the good-ol-days and the money (4usd). He was suspended for a week and won’t be accepted back next year. I asked him why he did it: “the devil made me do it.” He got a lecture on personal responsibility. Also missing from my office is a thesaurus that AK brought back from India and all my photo CDs… yes, all my photos. I now only have photos from Ethiopia. Crap.

If you have something stolen in Ethiopia is always your fault, your locks weren’t strong enough or you didn’t hide it well enough. It is never considered that the thief shouldn’t be stealing. This could be why in the 10 African countries this is the only place where I have had stuff stolen. Also could be because it is poor and Christian. Christianity promotes forgiveness, redemption and salvation. Islam promotes hands of thieves being cut off… guess which places have less theft.

The rains have started again. It’s nice. They are fresh and cooling and sometimes there are thunderstorms. It kind of feels full circle for me again. We are also starting to get bitten again. First I thought it was the usual mites, fleas and mosquitoes, and then Sarah pointed out the two tiny puncture wounds on each bite… from the fangs of a spider. I don’t have spidy-sences just yet. I’m hoping super powers will develop soon.

My birthday was this month; I’m now 32 years old. I cooked my flatmates a half Scottish breakfast (like a full Scottish breakfast but without the black pudding or haggis). It was the first time in a long time that we had had bacon. We (Sarah, Daruis our two maids and I) went to the post office for too long, attempted to see a museum but it was closed due to power cut, and then hung out by the pool at the Hilton hotel. The maids loved it; they swam and took photos of each other in their new bikinis. We ate at a Yemen restaurant and caught a movie at the only cinema that plays western movies. It’s just exhausting leaving the house here. All that is an amazingly big day here.

Once again it is Sarah who has the best story of the month. She was attacked in a taxi late one night. Driving home he pulled over and started grabbing her, She said “No” “enough” etc, when that didn’t deter him she slapped him a few times, he got more aggressive so she punched him in the head and got out of the cap. She ran to a (very rare) open petrol station and got another taxi home.

She went to the police who are inept, corrupt and impotent. Then she called the US embassy ho are open, efficient and capable. The next night we went with the secret police who questioned all the taxi drivers from the area where Sarah got the taxi. That’s pretty much as far as it’ll go. Sarah was a bit shaken and really pissed off. It’s not very night that you fight your way our of a rape (it wasn’t a potential rape, if Sarah hadn’t punched the guy in the head and got out there is no doubt how it would have ended). That chick is though as steel.

The yearbook is going slowly, between teaching, technical difficulties and power cuts I think we can still pull it together. I’m still chasing Ebony and Kevin to return what they have taken from the school. Everybody else gave up a long time ago, but I still believe that there might be some shred of integrity within them that invokes a response.

April: I got a pimple in between my butt cheeks I've never been a really zitty person. But since living in the 6th dirtiest city in the world I have d

2008-06-17T13:58:00.002+01:00

I've never been a really zitty person. But since living in the 6th dirtiest city in the world I have developed a bit of a pimply back. bacne - eugh. But the zit between my arse cheeks was a new low for bad skin.

Akanksha has left. She has gone back to Turkey to live, there she swims in the beautiful Mediterranean sea and eats delicious food everyday. we are all very jealous, and we miss her a lot. Akanksha has one of those really open and welcoming personalities. It was her more than any of us that got to know the other staff members and befriend them. She put in the work to know Adddis Ababa and enjoy what it had to offer. She is an inspiration, and now she has gone, well, we are kinda deflated.

Darius has taken over Akanksha's classes and We have a new flatmate: Peter from the UK. He's mad. He's mad in a good, interesting, lively way. He gets drunk on weekends, comes home late, breaks into really loud song, brings back stray dogs to the house, fall asleep in taxis and doesn't regain consciousness, that kinda thing. He does really well teaching 3rd and 4th grade though. Every time I walk past his class he is standing on the desk or rolling around on the floor explaining some concept. it's the kind of active teaching methods that are very unfamiliar and really loved here.

We have also had another Peter for the UK live with us. He was a volenteer in the same programme I did in Sudan. we breifly met in Khartoum. He decided to leave Sudan but stay in Africa. Ethiopia is the most logical next country. So he spent 7 weeks awquardly fitting his 6 foot plus frame onto our 5 foot something sofa, hanging out with us, and generally being a flatmate and freind to all. He has gone south for a while, something to do with permaculture, but will be back again soon.

I got trapped in a school toilet for 15 minutes. It took one PE teacher, one computer teacher, two administators a science teacher and the school bus driver to get me out. The smashed off the door handle and lock, it has not been replaced... maybe it never will.

Sarah has the best story of the month. she went on a weekend trip to Ambo. a wee town where they make fizzy water. She and her friend were riding down a street in a horse drawn carriage when the horse went mental (as horses sometimes do... big animals should not be so jittery) and started bolting down the hill that they were on. The driver freaked out and jumped off the moving carriage Sarah took this as a logial clue that they were in shit so she jumped off too.. her freind stayed on right till the end of the hill thinking it was safest to stay with the horse. All of them ended up with minor injurys. Sarah was a mess of cuts and brusies and got a sprained wrist.

Ethiopian Easter is celebrated on some random day that is different (of course) to the random day that the rest of the world celebrates easter (ok, it's not random, it's pagan, it is the first Friday after the first full moon after the spring equinox) we had several 4 day weekends in April. On the easter weekend our lovely bosses phoned and said they were bringing over a chicken curry. our lazy maids (we have two now, we hired another one) sprung into action doing all the cleaning that they should have done throughout the week. something was lost in translation because our bosses turned up with two live chickens and one live sheep. A man also turned up later in the day to kill the chickens, we asked him to come back in a couple of days to kill the sheep. The sheep was cool, we named him Tibbs which is the name for fried mutton in Ethiopia. before his death we got him drunk on a bottle and a half of Ethiopia's finest red wine. I don't know if it made a difference to the meat but he died happy.

I have a new task, I'm the sole editor and designer of the school magazine. I'll let you know how that goes.

March: met the man of my dreams

2008-06-17T13:58:00.001+01:00

If you are a regular reader... i.e. my mum, you would have noticed a huge void in this blog. It mostly comes down to the ample power cuts that we are experiencing. Some say that it's due to the water levels being low so hydroelectricity is in short supply. Others say it is because the government sells most of Ethiopia's power to to Sudan and other countries. It's properly both, it's definitely inconvenient. We are scheduled for 3 days a week without power from 7am-9pm. but they throw in a few extra days here and there as a bonus.

So I'm going to try and catch you up on the past 3 months over the next week. honestly, nothing of great consequence has happened but that is no hindrance to this little blogger.

I met the man of my dreams. He was in his tattoo studio (which was excetionally clean) He has a prickly-shaved head, soft brown eyes, both lobes gently streched with 15mm steel ring plugs, and facial tattoos that are a cross between Maori moko and Sudanese Dinke scarification. Beautiful. In his studio he has the most exquisit shelving system. It's calved oak, a balance of drawers, files and bookshelf space. The man of my dreams has unfortunatly only made an appearance in my dreams. I think he might be some sort of idealised animus... all the books on his superbly organised bookshelves were on occult symbolism. I'm now considering how I'd look with facial tattoos... maybe when I'm older.

Addis Ababa hosted its second international film festival. Oh it was so good to have something to do! somewhere to go. All the films were on human rights and mainly focused in Africa. For one week I was very happy.

Akanksha returned back from India bearing gifts of books, books and more books. What a legend. She looked so refreshed and clean.

We got a new foreign staff member, her name is Salam, she now teaches in the KG section. She is mixed race from a rasta family living in Ethiopia, but she is from north England (fa naw watta mean.) She tells strange stories. Really strange. for example she said that she had to go south for a funeral, a friend of the family had died. then she discovered that the man who had died was actually her biological father, then we hear that he had been stabbed twice and set on fire... all this information was given in a chirpy hey-what-can-you-do type manner. Other stories include being robbed 9an needing a loan from the school... which is exactly what happened to one of her sisters the year before, she borrowed money from a different school and didn't pay it back), chased, having a man at her door tying to kill her. tough week huh. She is nice, but I don't really trust her.

Ebony is not responding to her emails. Her boyfriend got back to us and promised to bring back the stuff he took, he did bring back one bed cover and payed off $30 off her $210 phone bill. he hasn't been back since. This is not doing a great deal for race relations. The school unfortunately believe that white people are better than black people because us honkys appear to have a different work ethic. Now with Salem telling extreme stories and asking the school for money, and Ebony not exactly falling over herself to pay the school back for her phone bills... they haven't represent the most ideal employees and them being the only foreigners of African origin - it doesn't look good.

I got a filing cabinet in my office. Anything I ask for they get me. S I have bought a bunch of suspension files (I've been hanging out with Texan Sarah for way too long .. now everything comes in bunches) and it brings me great delight to order and file every piece of paper in lovely ordered systems. there once was a time when I found great pleasure in swinging topless around a pole... Now I find my joy comes from filing lesson plans and creating upcoming event calendars that the staff here don't use.

Unmotivated and Uninspired

2008-03-26T18:29:00.000+01:00

Unmotivated and Uninspired

yep, I'm bored. I have only 4 months to go before the end of the school year, till my passport expires and I head to London to get a new one.

I'm really starting to look forward to getting back to the western world. Perhaps I have given up trying with Ethiopia. A place is only as good as you make it, and at the moment I'm not really pulling my weight to make it as spectacular as it could be.

I do little things to keep myself entertained. I'm starting to write autobiographical fairytales. I'm painting a mural on my office wall after hours. I have volunteered to lead a workshop in teaching English to English teachers of another school (I've been an English teacher for less than a year and they think I'm qualified to teach other teachers). I have been looking through my Oxford dictionary for baby names for my brothers baby (from the As Able for a boy and Aperture for a girl ?) so far I have found nothing worthy of passing on. I maintain my fingernails beautifully, almost everyday they are painted a new colour(s), today they are teal. The fact that I never do the dishes helps a lot, my nails have never been so long or so strong.

I'm sick of being dirty (if I removed all the blackheads from my face and my back I'd look like the lost twin sister of sponge-bob square-pants), I'm sick of having no big projects, nothing important (to me) to do. I'm sick of not having close freinds nearby, I'm sick of being sick. I'm sick of eating the same food everyday. I'm sick of watching TV.

I'm just going though a phase and I'd like to think that I'll be over it by the end of this month. So till then I need to focus on on the positive things and to stop cutting my hair for something to do (in an attempt to grow out the beegees fringe in a stylish way I have cut my hair in a Cameron Diaz style... needless to say I don't look like Cameron Diaz).

Positive things: huge glasses of fresh avocado and pinapple juice I drink everyday for 0.35usd and endless blue skys. The first proper shower after the water has been off for a few days. Having a maid who (now on her final warning) makes my bed everyday, does my laundry weekly and washes all of our dishes. Those occational days when my students say something really cool.

It's kind of scary what an effect a a teacher can have on their students conciously or subconciously. My old fifth grade class were asked to name four animals in a test. The majority of kids included amoung their list: rat, snake, scorpion, spider or fox despite these not being popular animals in Ethiopia. I often used those animals as examples even though they are percieved as not particually beautiful ...cause theya re cool.

Ebony, our American flatmate left for Tailand, and with her went her boyfriend who is still working in Addis, and the bedsheets, the blankets, the bed coverings, the pillows, her rubbish bin, and her laundry basket all bought by the school. But she did leave behind for us over 100usd in phonebills for December and January... can't wait to see if she left us a suppise on the February phonebill.

Her boyfreind has been back to return a faction of the bed linen and leave some money. I'm trying to track Ebony by email to sort it out. Who does that? who steals from an African school and leaves without mentioning that a lot of international phonecalls had been made, or leaving behind money to cover it? That's just not cricket.

Went to Somalia, Got to Somaliland

2008-02-25T22:36:00.000+01:00

k, if you look on your map you will see framing the horn of Africa a country called Somalia with a capital city called Mogadishu that you may have heard mentioned on the news. But maps can be a bit misleading sometimes (my huge Time Magazine atlas of the world doesn’t have Palestine listed in the index… that really pisses me off, perhaps I should write a strongly worded letter)

Somaliland is the top right bit of Somalia. They declared independence 15 years ago and have been their own country ever since. They have their own government, own currency, own flag, own key rings, t-shirts, hats and ‘I love Somaliland’ bumper stickers. The only thing they don’t have is international recognition. No one outside of Somaliland sees it as a separate country. It must be incredibly frustrating for them. I recognize Somaliland.

We reached the capital Hargesia late, the first hotel we were shown commented on men with long hair. It was explained to them that I was in fact a female with trousers and exposed hair. We were rejected but got a better place in the centre of town with the luxury of single rooms and a hot shower. Ah.

Hargesia was cool, chilled, friendly and full of inquisitive people who often asked if we were journalists. This could have had something to do with Tristam’s huge SLR camera, but we were asked frequently even when the cameras where packed away.

The most striking impression that I will always remember about Somaliland is a moment from the first morning we were there. The others were sleeping but I had got up early in search of a cup of tea. I sat down at a stall and ordered my cup. They serve tea in large sized cups with camels’ milk and sugar. Delicious. As subtly as possible I counted out from my few 500 shilling notes what I thought was the price of a cup of tea. As I kept a wary eye out for potential thieves, pickpockets, con-artists, and beggars, a man walked past with a wheel barrow filled with cash all bundled into stacks and piled high. No bodyguards, no dogs, no guns, just a guy taking his cash to the market in a wheelbarrow.

I ended up going to the money changers who sit behind a small wall of money. Beggars come and go but no body touches what is not theirs. The highest note is 500 shillings and is it worth about 0.07usd. It denotes that there may have been an inflation problem by the government overprinting money. I’ve noticed his is common in these parts.

We hung out in Hargesia for a few days; we spent some time with ‘Mike’ who is the son of a diplomat recently stripped of his diplomatic passport and privileges. He showed us around, which was cool but then he started asking Darius and Tristam for money. It was an odd situation for me, cause normally I’m alone so deal with things in my own way (aggressively, dogmatically with zero-tolerance and always prepared to play the help-I’m-a-victim card). Mike wouldn’t deal with me (I’m just a girl… ready to play the help-I’m-a-victim card).), so the guys handled it, I got to sit back (which I’m not used to but could learn from) and the guys got to have a complete African travel experience of dealing with someone who sees you as an opportunity for easy money.

Sarah, Darius and myself had been itching to see the sea. Liam who had been to the coast a few months before hadn’t given the coast a rave review “dead dogs” but it was our only chance to see ocean for another few months so we piled into a minibus… waited a couple of hours while the filled the minibus with enough people, then we headed sea-wards.

We had been told several times that we would need to travel with guards, and that we would have problems at the police check points. There was a check point and the boarder line of each town and each state. When we saw a checkpoint we simply pretended to be asleep. We traveled though dusk and nighttime, Sarah and I had headscarves, Darius a hoodie and Tristam his kafiye (the I’m-an-Arab, pizza-hut-tablecloth scarf) so we were not noticed.

The port town we reached was Berbera. We were obliged to clock in with the police who said we needed security guards, and then changed their minds after hearing that we were only planning to stay a couple of days, yay. We all spent one fabulous day at the beach playing in the sand and swimming in the waves. Not a dead dog in sight, there was a few live camels though and a school of catfish in the waves. We all got sun burnt.

Sarah left early to return to Hargesia and caught a flight back to Addis, Darius spent a day recovering from sunstroke and Tristam and I slowly meandered around the port and the town. The port boasts clear turquoise water and brilliant tropical fish; it is also filled with rusty boats that for some reason look spectacular rather than dirty. If Somaliland does get international recognition the ports would fill with living ships and the beaches with the waste of tourists.

It was an excellent trip… a bit too short though. I miss-predicted the time it would take us to get back. Because we were traveling to a deadline (Tristam’s flight) I thought it better to have a day up our sleeves in case an axle broke or one of us got food poisoning, we ended up getting back two days before necessary, it gave us time to go on a hash walk and check out a museum in Addis.

Tristam is safe and well back in London where they have footpaths and toilet paper that you flush. Meanwhile Sarah, Darius and myself have returned to planning, teaching and grading. Mandy was not here when we arrived back, she had a death in the family and has returned to South Africa, she left behind a sweet black and white cat who has also since left us.

I get a friend to play with

2008-02-25T22:35:00.000+01:00

Right, where did I leave you last, I was in Somaliland talking about Ethiopia. Now I’m in Ethiopia and will have to back track once again to talk about Somaliland. But first we have to get there.

Tristam arrived at silly O’clock in the morning and took an African amount of time to get though the gates. Within 24 hours he was in a chat bar chewing on the popular and mildly narcotic (like red-bull level) leaves and smoking shisha. He has thrown himself into eating Ethiopian food, drinking Ethiopian beer, chatting to Ethiopian locals, and listening to Ethiopian music. Everything he approaches with intelligence and insight. I get o see the life I’m living now from a completely different perspective and I’m really enjoying it.

Also for me I am enjoying the utter luxury of having my very own friend who has known me for over a decade. I real friend knows when you are talking shite and isn’t afraid to call you up on it. People that you meet along the way can’t always tell and would never point it out. I’m indulging in reminiscing over a shared history and also getting to see how I have changed.

When I last saw Tristam I was pretty darn pagan. Now I have grown a lack of belief in the necessity of religion and see more and more how religious beliefs hinder rather than serve humankind. I think that the more I travel (or get older) the more I stretch my labels: e.g. from ‘New Zealander’ to ‘westerner’ from ‘atheist-pagan existentialist eclectic Jungian witch’ to ‘non-religious’. Perhaps I’m just simplifying myself.

I took Tristam to my school where the kids all had the opportunity to ask him questions about New Zealand gun laws and other random stuff. They even took the opportunity to ask me why I always wear black (because I like it).

After obtaining our visas from the difficult-to-find but rather lovely Somaliland representation in Addis, the four of us (Sarah, Darius, Tristam and myself) set off before sunrise to the bus station. It took us about an hour and many lungfuls of diesel fumes to get onto the right bus. By 8am we were on our way east.

We spent two nights in a fun filled town called Harrah. We hired a guide for the day, smoked shisha, visited local houses, went jewelry shopping, drunk local tea and coffee, chewed chat, wandered though markets, visited a museum, visited a coffee factory, visited a catholic church, fed wild hyenas, played with a dodgy contraband lion club, empathized with a chained monkey, took loads of photos and generally enjoyed a cool town. It’s really amazing how much you can actually fit into one day when you want to.

After Harrah we headed to Jigjiga where the police checks started. At the second police check while we were waiting off the bus for the cops to go though and half-heartedly squeeze luggage, a not-quite-right-in-the-head old dude tried to take a piece of the pomegranate I was eating. But no crusty starving, skinning old man from a developing country is going to take my food so I held on in a weird non-aggressive tug-of-war until some solders approached and scared him away.

Our 3rd police check was the longest, all the foreigners, which included our party of four, a Somali origin Swede and his Somali uncle and cousin were taken from the bus with all our luggage. Then the bus drove off. We were questioned and held for a couple of hours before being released. Just reading over that it sounds really dramatic. But we weren’t separated or tided to chairs or anything. It was just inconvenient and boring. I was feeling sick and not in a particularly patient mood.

The overly helpful Swede arranged for us all an overpriced taxi to the boarder. He annoyed me a lot because he would say everything several times over and constantly update us with inaccurate information…. which is my job.

We crossed the Ethiopian-Somaliland border at sunset. No problems, On the Somaliland side the official sat on the floor chewing chat behind his desk. Actually the Somaliland ambassador also provided an excellent foreshadowing to the warm, gentle, friendly nature of our Somaliland experience.

Catching Up

2008-02-10T16:16:00.000+01:00

I'm finally able to post my own blog posts for a bit. No, the Ethiopian govenment have not seen the error of their repressive ways and un-blocked blog sites. I have just popped over to Somalia for a holiday. But that comes later. for now I have to cacth you up on the more mundane features of life in Addis.

I have joined up with "hash house harriers" an international club described as "a drinking club with a running problem". Yep. They drink beer and go running, I, of course, do neither. I walk around with the older componant of the group and politely acknowlege the dad-humour that consists of overstating the obivious and laughing loudly "New Zealand huh! Plenty of sheep there! HaHaHahahaha". It's good to have an opportunity to get out of the city once a week and some of the people are not old o sleazy and some even don't leave a trial of plastic water bottles behind them.

After the astounding acchievement of managing to get my hair into a ponytail I thought I would cut a nice long fringe in the style of Patricia Aquette in 'Medium' (we have satelite tv remember). I have a round fae, thick hair and a cowlick. I look more like the chubby one from the bee-gees.

In Ethiopia you always leave a deposit. Like when you buy a bottle of coke, you pay extra if you want to take the bottle or you provided an empty bottle. A bottle of Gin costs about 2usd but they keep 1.50usd till the bottle is returned. and even when you buy a sheep, an extra 10usd is paid which you get back when you return with the skin.

Water shortages are an issue in my suburb. When I travel I learn a lot about myself, Geuss that's one of the reasons I do it. I have answered many never-asked questions. Like: how many days can I use the same toitlet without flushing before I gag? 3. Akanksha answered the never-asked question: What is worse than finding a cockroach in your dinner? The answer of course is: finding half a cockroach.

The first semester has come to an end in a chaotic blurr of exams, final tests, grading and awards. Akanksha left for India to visit family and have a decent shower.

Ebony is leaving Addis for good. She has been sick and the Typhoid was a miss digonosis, apparently quite common for forginers who have remeninsts of the Typoid vaccinne flowing though their blood. She could do with better medical trestment than she can get in Ethiopia (just in case something is seriously wrong) and cheaper medical treatment than she can get in the US. So she has planned a jurney home viia thaland and the excellent bumrangrad hospital where I had one of my wisdome teeth expertly removed.

Another Forigen teacher has arrived. Many is a 40 something kindergarten teacher from South Africa. So I'm no longer the oldest in the flat. She is a little bit daunted at the moment but i'm sure she'll settle in. It's going to take me a bit to get used to her attitude (utterly negative) and opinions (she was off the plane less than an hour when describing the South african HIV problem: But it's just the blacks." I had a few butt-clenchingly toe-curlingly awful moments listening to her decribe to out (Ethiopian) headmaster about how bad the blacks are.

And the absolute best news last. My dear freind Tristam that I have known sicne we were at sesign school togther has come to visit. It's so awesome it warrents its very own blog post.

Christmas, New Years and Christmas again.

2008-01-10T15:20:00.000+01:00

The night of the 25th was spent at the luxury Sheridan hotel. The Xmas buffet catered for everyone. Akanksha enjoyed hummus and pita, Sarah had several chocolate mousses, Darius kept returning to the meat section and I had gorged myself on sushi.

We are getting to know our workmates more, mainly thanks to Akanksha who makes an effort to get to know people… unlike myself who is making an effort to get to know the television timetable. We have had a couple of parties over at out house. The first one I crashed early, after I went to sleep some bought out a hash cookie, has a few bites each and eventually retired. Our maid Kasuge (who was told not to touch the cookie) decided to eat the remainder. Poor girl, she has never touched alcohol and suddenly she was dealing with being stoned off her tree. Her friend Tizita (who now lives with us and does the work that Kasuge is hired to do) woke me up at 4am to sort it out. They had come to the logical conclusion that Kasuge had been possessed by something that was in the bad breath of one of the guests.

New Years was forgettable, we went to the home of a friend of someone Sarah had met. Fire, drinking, banter, bar afterwards, bit of dancing all on the posh side of town. I got talking to a Portuguese ex-pat it-boy, good lad. A lot of the people I know here are a bit boring; they are in their 20s and still seem to consider getting trashed as an achievement. They go out a lot and spend money that I need to save to get my arse over out of the country in the holidays and back to the UK… hang on, maybe I’m the boring one.

Christmas here is on the 7th of January. I guess the Ethiopian Orthodox Jesus was born on a different day (The Ethiopian Orthodox Mary talks and has adventures). People get together with their families, eat sheep, drink and dance a lot. On the 6th we had the staff over to our house (the board members rocked our party). Darius arranged a sheep for us. It made a valiant escape attempt, but was caught by physics, biology, mathematics and early primary teachers several hundred meters from our house. The Junior English grammar teacher slaughtered it. This was quite a biology lesson.

Cats in the developed world recognise and respond to the sounds of the refrigerator door, or electric can opener. The cats here respond in force to the sound of butchers knifes being sharpened. Christmas is a good time for cats.

It was an excellent barbeque; we invited the neighbours the ex-pats from New Years. The next night (Christmas night) the neighbours returned the favour and we went over to their house to eat with their family. Dancing is as common a part of family gathering here as bickering is where we are from. I lead the family in a spiral dance, a common circle dance done at pagan rituals. Cool.

I have been utterly spoilt from the outside world lately I have received calls from Star (now in UK and a published author) and Tristam both with terrible phone lines. Both my parents called over the holiday season, I think they were using skype rather than phone cards so the line was clearer. Aside from the wondrous pre-Christmas package from Cat filled with chocolate and other goodies, I have also been privileged to receive a package from my mother, Jan-Andrew Henderson (.com)’s fantastic soon-to-be-published book which my flatmates are now reading, and just yesterday a whole load of socks and jocks from Missy, that girl has great taste in underwear and despite Ethiopia having a booming cotton industry, they have not yet started to apply their natural fibres to undergarments. And best of all… a promise from Tristam to visit next month, he will accompany Darius and myself to Somaliland; actually he’ll probably lead the trip. That just can’t be beaten. So thank you all, I’m feeling very loved from your attention.

Promotion, Ponytail and Poo.

2008-01-10T15:19:00.000+01:00

A new foreigner has arrived: Darius from Canada. So now we have 5 in our house. The maid has moved out to a room in the back of the house and her friend (who actually cleans and does laundry) has moved in with her. Having a guy in the house really changes the chi for the better. I don't recall ever living with just females before... it's different. The flat has become a hell of a lot more social, we have even arranged a secret Santa, and are going out for Christmas dinner. Today is the 25th of December, but Christmas is not for another 2 weeks. All us foreigners have got the day off. we even have new years day off too despite new years being in September.

Darius has taken my grade 5 classes (the shite kids) and I keep my grade 6 classes (the cool kids) and I have been promoted to "unit leader" which means I'm half in administration and half teaching. Yep, I'm moving u the ladder of Ethiopian primary education, at this rate I'll be headmistress by June. I have an office I share with 3 other unit leaders, my own desk, which I don't quite know what to do with at I don't have a computer. I get sent all the naughty kids to deal with which I quite enjoy. I'm trying to convince management to get me a computer so I can write curriculum's or training manuals or something.

It was over a year ago that Star shaved my head for me and I have finally acchieved ponytail day. Yes, ponytail day is the day that anyone growing out short hair marks the magnificent accomplishment of being able to get all their hair into a single ponytail without the use of wax or clips. It's a momentous day.

Another momentous day is always a good-poo day. I'm proud to report that after months and months of every possible combination of liquid solid and gas finding it's way out of my body in a variety of surprising force and in an unexpected spectrum of hues at unpredictable times... finally, finally my bowels are back to normal. Well as normal as can be expected here. I still consider myself to be the most resilient in the flat. My immune system has had a work out and I would say is at peak strength now.

I tried to post on facebook but no luck, It might be linked to blogger and therefore blocked, but I think that it is more likely just me. So I'm dependant to Gemma posting for me even that is dodgy. I get the feeling if I mention g o v e r n m e n t or s o m a l i a my emails won't go through, maybe just paranoia.

In other news I'm not going to go to P a l e s t i n e in the February semester break as I had hoped. I could afford it, but I wouldn't be able to afford anything else. So I'm going to stick with the overland travel and head for S o m a l i l a n d in the north of S o m a l i a. I know that S o m a l i a is not most peoples ideal holiday destination, check out S o m a l i l a n d on wikipedia and you'll see why I'm attracted to the place. And my last bit of really exciting news: I'm going to be aunt. My brother is going to have a baby next year which is awesome.

Right, I'm now going to attempt to send Gemma some photos to add to this and the last post. If there are no photos, it is most likely my fault, not hers. And then I'll head home to eat all the incredible Christmas chocolate that the wonderful Cat posted to me. Merry Christmas.

2007-11-27T17:16:00.000+01:00

Title: Back to Bloggin

All access to my blogspot site is now completely cut off complements to the paranoid Ethiopian government, so, with thanks to facebook-wise friend Ben, I'm going to attempt to use facebook to blog from now and my rather talented and very beautiful friend Gemma has kindly said she would scoop up my dribble and pour it over to this blog site so you don't have to join up with facebook. If you are part of facebook you can find me there using my full Sunday name, and if you are reading this on facebook you can get the rest at www.youngcrone.blogspot.com
Obliviously I have had loads of problems with internet access, but hopefully this new system and run smoothly. I have missed bogging; it really cuts down on answering the same questions by email. It also forces me to form my thoughts of where I am and what I'm doing into coherent sentences… well sometimes.

The first quarter at school has finished with a flurry of paperwork, grading and exams. For a few weeks I was just like that teacher that you remember from high school who always looked like she was just about to have a nervous breakdown. But then my mother sent me a book with the New Zealand English curriculum, having some sort of idea of what I'm going to teach tomorrow and next week and next month. It has made a huge difference having some sort of direction and I'm not so stressed.

I also got one kid called Haleluyah suspended for a week, and as much as I missed constantly shouting "HALELUYA!" in class it meant for an entire week I actually taught the kids something. He's back now, but doesn't seem to mess with me so much. I have another straight F student who spends more time in the office than in class. I don't know what I'm going to do about him.

I haven't felt time the best teacher, I'm never on top of it all, and between the boring-as-shit lesson planning and the utterly mundane grading it's not the most exciting job in the world. But I did with an award for 'best teacher' (which was a surprise) and another award for 'best decorated classroom' which was not such a surprise given the other teachers were going for prison-cell-minimalism in their rooms.

I have a landline phone, it's not working at the moment (and no running water for five days now too), but if you want to give it a go it's +251114192959. I'm not worried about publishing my home phone number on the web given that if you are willing to call Ethiopia you must actually know me, and this website is blocked in Ethiopia which will cut out the 'hello' 'hello' 'hello' 'yes' 'hello' calls that happen.

"Use an adjective to describe Ms Rachel."

2007-11-03T21:19:00.000+01:00

In the after school tutorial programme, that I was co-teaching with my flatmate Sarah, Sarah was asking the class of 1st to 8th graders who had failed their (massively different) entrance exams to use adjectives. "Use an adjective to describe Ms Rachel." she said. "Fat" they said.

So I'm back in Ethiopia, I have pretty much been doing nothing but teaching, lesson planning, marking, and being a teacher for the past 3 weeks. I'm getting into the school. Some days are crap, and some days are great. Like when they said 'Fat' not only was it funny, but also they actually used an adjective with was a pleasant surprise.

I have about 140 students with the weirdest names ever. There is one kid called Naga... pronounced Nigga, when he's naughty "Sit down Nigga" I feel like I'm being racist, and when I'm praising him "Great work Nigga" I feel like he's ma brover.

You may have noticed that I haven't updated this for a while, well the internet has been down over the whole country for the past couple of weeks because the government (that owns all telecommunications... which is why they are so crap) has been updating it. It's still as slow as continental drift. When I have been able to get on I can't log in. In fact I am actually not logged in now... this blog is coming to you from Africa via Scotland where I have emailed it to Missy who has posted it for me (thanks Missy, you rock).

So as much as Ethiopia is not as sexy, exotic or modern as Yemen I'm glad to be back, and I'm becoming much more content now as I settle in and establish myself here. Also, unlike the middle east, I can dress to suit the weather, so I'm happy.

I can't say the same for my flatmates. Akanshka from India has had her phone stolen. Ebony from California has contracted typhoid fever and Sarah from Texas is dealing with a massive leak in her bedroom ceiling from the upstairs toilet. Our maid is happy, she hangs out watching satellite telly all day, she does SFA, but is really sweet, I bought her some Jackie Collins romance novels translated into Amharic, she seems to like them.

I just want to take a moment here to thank my mother who brought me my typhoid vaccination shots for my 30th birthday last year. they are working well.

For the past 4 days we have had a water shortage. the first two days were now water whatsoever, which got pretty vile in the the bathrooms, we couldn't shower, or wash our clothes. The water shortage was over the whole suburb so using local restaurant facilities was just as bad. Remember we have one flatmate with typhoid fever and at any one time half the flat has diarrhea. The last couple of days we managed to buy jerry-cans of water and followed the 'Meet the Fockers' rule "If it's brown, flush it down. If it's yellow, let it mellow."

The water is back on now, we still have a few plumbing issues with leaking water, and in my bathroom they set up a water heater which i have turned off as it runs a mild electric current though all my bathroom fittings. I had to stand im my rubber bathmat when i turned on the tap to clean my teeth.

We had been without hot water for over a month, then one night Sarah got sick and spent a night vomiting, that was when we discovered that they had hooked up the water heater to her bathroom light, a long a we leave the light on, we have hot water. Bonus.

The weather is fantastic with 23 degree sunny days every day. I shall soon be teaching the 'Art Club' and also offering additional lunch time tutorials in handwriting to a select groups kids who are really lagging (I'll make typographers and calligraphers out of them yet). My stomach has adjusted to the food, and I'm the only one in the flat who has not driven the porcelain bus here.

Going to miss Yemen dispite getting sick

2007-10-02T13:12:00.000+01:00

I have got my passport back, I have my business via and I'm going to return to Ethiopia tomorrow. There was a stressful few days when my passport totally disappeared off the Internet tracking, and no one was answering the number I had been given to call.

It's taken a long time to adjust to the hours here, even though Yemen is on the same time zone as Ethiopia during Ramadan everything works differently. Shops open 1-2pm, they close again at 5 to break their fast (Muslim fasting is not eating or drinking anything from sunrise to sunset for a full luna month, Ethiopian Orthodox fasting is not eating any meat or animal products on Wednesdays and Fridays) and to pray. Shops re-open at 8pm and sat open till 1am. I finally adjusted to going to sleep around 3am and getting up after midday.

I got food poisoning which meant I lost 2 days to illness. I think that it is rather ridiculous that I spend a full year in Africa without any serious sicknesses, then once I come to the beautiful Gulf with it's respect for hygiene practices, and hot dry conditions that bacteria can't thrive in... I get taken down by the first bad samosa that passes my lips. This is the third time I have got food poisoning while travelling, the first time was in London (cold chicken kebab from a corner store) I was convinced that I had the black death. The second time I was in China (bad, half cooked egg with breakfast) I was convinced that I had Ebola virus and Sarrs. This time I pretty much knew what was happening.

I had met some other guests in the hotel and lent them my army knife (which has a cork screw on it... cork screws being rare as rocking horse poo in Yemen) so while sick I left a note in the hall for them to bring me water and re-hydration salts, which they thankfully did. I'm fine now. It was hell while it lasted, but it left as fast as it came.

Now I have a cold sore, the second in my life (the first I got in India, when I thought it was a grievous infection that was going to consume my whole face). The tingle tells you when it's time... except when you don't know what the tingle is all about. Fortunately people in pharmacies always speak the international language of medicine. But this international language is not sweet and soft like asking for "cold sore cream" no, I had to ask for "herpes simplex medication" for the to understand what I needed.

I have met some really lovely people here in the ex-pat community. I have attended a couple of lovely parties and had a great time. A Yugoslavian-American journalist here lent me her copy of the last Harry Potter which kept me happy for a few days. It's so nice to know what happens in the end. I have even have a coffee date tonight with a Egyptian computer programmer, ain't no stupid cold sore going to get me down.

I'm really sad to leave the Middle East. I love it here. it's beautiful and exotic and sexy. I didn't think I would like it that much because it is not wild and free, and suddenly my second X chromosome comes with a new set of rules and limitations. But for some reason I just like it. I'll be back.

The guy on the left doesn't have a goiter, he's chewing qat, the local narcotic, in Ethiopia it's called chat.

Photos

2007-09-27T14:52:00.000+01:00

I've been slowly uploading photos now while I have the luxury of broadband. so finally you get to see some images of where I've been.

While I'm at it, I thought I'd add these ones. Missy is taking over the burlesque world and naturally her stunning style is copied. Especially her distinctive hair which is turning up on the heads of many in the UK burlesque world. Here is one of her imitators:

And below is one of the photos of Missy and myself - showing a wee bit much thigh. This is just plain annoying for professional performers who work hard to create their own unique look. But for me, you can see behind the Missy-copy (you can't see her replica hair in this shot), is her very own red-headed, curvy Foxy-alike. I'm tickled pink. Flattered.

Yemen... utterly reccomended

2007-09-25T18:01:00.000+01:00

It's just stunning here. After one year in Africa I'm totally awe inspired by the beauty and magnificence of human accomplishments. To sound like a Victorian arrogant wanker, it's just so civilized here. People don't piss on the streets, and they don't chuck rubbish everywhere. The buildings are old and well kept and well thought out.

On the aeroplane coming here there were a whole pile of Ethiopian and Yemeni women who got on. One of them had typical dress for a young woman: tight jeans and t-shirt. Her hair was bleached and cut in a funky short style. When I got off the plane the women had all been replaced by a combination of large black triangles and large black triangles with faces. One of the robed women was having difficulty getting her headscarf to sit right, it kept sliding off to reveal the funky bleached hair of the girl who only an hour before looked like she was ready for clubbing. What a change.

That was the last time I saw a woman. I have seen a lot of eyes, but not much else.

Just because the women are covered, doesn't mean that fashion is cast aside, oh no. It's just very subtle.

This season for the urban Yemeni woman, black is the new black. the look is all about flowing layers of chiffon. The silhouette is soft and triangular with emphasis on the eyes. We are seeing a plunge of several millimetres on the bridge of the nose, but eyebrows are definitely hidden. The modern women shows her feminine side with a sexy array of fringing options: sequins, crystals, and glittering embroidery are all making an appearance on hems and cuffs, in black of course.

Looking in some of the shops, I get the feeling what the women are wearing under their robes would make Britteny Spears blush.

For men the fashion world is yours: shops of men's fashions line the main streets, the possibilities of style, cut and colour are endless, the only problem is deciding what to wear. This season's look is one of muted neutral tones. The robe in traditional pale whites and creams, dressed up with a smart jacket in tweed and of course an embroidered belt with a huge knife is a must for all Yemeni men (and boys). The perfect accessory is a cotton scarf worn around the head or shoulders for those chilly 35 degree days.

Fashion doesn't stop with people. The look for land cruisers is hand spray-painted camoflage. (camoflage for men is sooo Osama Bin 2002) and for motorbikes a thick sheepskin is a must and remember it's all about the size of the radio that you tape to the handle bars, not about the quality of music.

I have just got an email from the embassy in Australia, my visa has been process, and they have posted it back to me. I should have it in a few of days. Then I'll return to Ethiopia.

My skin has aged about 100 years since I left the UK. and over the past couple of months it's been subjected to myriad infestations of fleas, lice, mites, bedbugs and mosquitoes. In the week that I have been off the continent I have been treating myself to hot showers, clean sheets and insect/mite free accommodation. Now finally I have no more bites. I bet they'll all be back with avengence when I return.

I love Yemen. The people are wonderful, the atmosphere is fantastic, even in the fasting month. It is one of those countries I can see myself coming back to again and again.

I have bought myself a pink plastic mosque alarm clock, that sounds out the call to prayer. I also hope to buy a shisha pipe too.

It's 2000! ...again

2007-09-18T09:10:00.000+01:00

Last time I wrote I was just about to leave the continent for Yemen... well, things don't happen very fast in Ethiopia, and sometimes when they say, they have a ticket, it doesn't actually mean that they have a ticket. So I spent a further week in Ethiopia.

The post works! I have received a notebook from my mother and a huge and wonderful package from Mistress Lenore full of sweet, sweet chocolate and other wonderful things. (Thank you so much sweetheart, I'm still gathering a bag of goodies to post to you.)

I got to see the much anticipated Ethiopian Millennium. I went to the biggest square in the capital and painted faces. It was cool, but after all the build up I thought it would be bigger, with more music and dancing. It turns out that most people celebrate the new century at home with their families burning stuff, drinking coffee and eating popcorn. It was still cool though.

They must also celebrate with a feast of sheep meat. On new years eve each block had a small flock of sheep. Live sheep were seen strapped to peoples cars, being ungraciously dragged down streets and wheeled home in wheelbarrows. The day after new years day where the flocks had been were now salesmen selling piles of fresh sheep skins. Some of them still had heads and legs attached.

My flatmates are settling in well. Sarah brought with her a jigsaw puzzle of a satellite image of the world. It's kept the two of us entertained for ages. We haven't finished it yet I lost heart after seeing that New Zealand was cut off half way up the South island. It's all too common. I have asked my mother to post me a map from NZ which has the pacific in the middle... and just to get my students thinking, South at the top of the map.

So after a bit of waiting around I got my tickets to Yemen. Yesterday was an 8 hour delay in Addis Ababa Airport and last night I arrived. I LOVE IT HERE! I was a little bit apprehensive as I don't have a guide book or map or any idea of Yemen, Hell, I didn't know the capital was Sana'a until last week. But in the airport I wrote down all the Arabic words I could remember which came to about 50. So I'm getting by well and this place is so beautiful, the people are friendly and the Internet is fast. I'll be able to upload photos while I'm here. The only inconvenience seems to be Ramadan, it's fasting month. I'm hungry and it's going to be difficult to find food before sunset. I'll stock up tonight.

Popping out to the Middle East

2007-09-09T12:16:00.001+01:00

I was a bit pre-mature with that last blog. I thought it was already September when I wrote it.

I entered Ethiopia with a tourist visa (on the advice of the Ethiopian Embassy in Nairobi). I can not get that converted to a work permit. I need a business visa. I can get the business visa from the Ethiopian Embassy in Melbourne (there isn't one in NZ so Melbourne deals with Kiwis and other Pacific islanders). They can issue the visa by post, but not if I am in Ethiopia at the time. So I need to leave the country, get an exit stamp in my passport, post it to Aus, wait a couple of weeks for them to process the visa send it back and return to Ethiopia with the correct visa.

I'm going to Yemen tomorrow to do that. It was the cheapest flight out of Ethiopia. I miss the huge millennium celebrations here but I get a paid trip to the Middle East. So I'm ok with that.

Last week Liam and I went up north. Great trip, long bus rides were made shorter by name-the-capital and call-my-bluff quiz games with two brit lads we met along the way. We are such geeks. We checked out monasteries, saw the source of the Blue Nile which would have been unremarkable if a hippo and her calf hadn’t popped their head out of the water near our boat... ok, about 100 metres away from out boat. I saw several huge lizards while waiting for the boys who were checking out a no-females-allowed monastery. We ate fresh fish, chewed chat, smoked shisha. We played a lot of cards and I cheated. I have had the same deck of plastic playing cards for a couple of months now so have started to recognise which ones are bent, scratched and damaged.

In one town a homeless guy approached Liam for money, Liam politely declined (in Arabic) the guy got more aggressive, spat on Liam then tried again for money. Liam this time responded with his version of the evil eye which kind of like he was trying to choose between rice of pasta for dinner. This time the homeless guy looked like he was going to pounce, spit and scratch Liam’s eyes out all at once. I pushed the guy back by his shoulders and he scampered away. So did we. He got ahead of us and grabbed Liam by his arm as we passed, he spat again while holding out his hand for money... I wonder if this technique of begging has worked for him in the past. He was last seen outside our hotel room with a brick in his hand. The hotel staff said that is was 'mad crazy man' and offered to kick him for us, we declined their offer.

On the 3rd day we headed to a place called Gondor (the landscape was more like the Shire. There we checked out huge castles build with the help of the Spanish and Portuguese. We fraternised with local hustlers, ate fancy Ethiopian food, and got bitten to pieces by bedbugs. Liam headed back to Sudan where he found many of his meager possessions had been stolen and his toilet broken. I returned to Addis.

So back in Addis my new flatmates have arrived, they are very cool. And the house was ready: well not totally ready. We didn't have a kitchen till yesterday and they are still sorting out things like hot water, curtains and keys. It kind of looks like we are squatting there. Another flatmate arrived yesterday. She's from India, grew up in Malaysia, educated in USA and worked in the Netherlands. I can't quite remember of pronounce her name just yet. We are a happy flat of 4.

Last week was school orientation. Very boring. School officially starts on the 17th of September. I will probably still be in Sana'a, Yemen then waiting for my passport. Next blog from my very first trip to the Middle East. Yay!

One year!

2007-08-30T06:56:00.000+01:00

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

2007-08-24T13:29:00.000+01:00

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

2007-08-24T12:11:00.000+01:00

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

2007-08-15T10:56:00.000+01:00

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.

2007-08-11T09:57:00.000+01:00

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

2007-08-02T13:03:00.000+01:00

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...

2007-08-02T11:37:00.000+01:00

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.

Ethiopia: 13 months of sunshine

2007-07-27T13:56:00.001+01:00

Before I came to Africa, my knowledge of Ethiopia was limited to a few impressions: the famine that inspired live aid in the 1980s, a connection to Jamaica and Rastifasim, The colours red, yellow, green and black, and the emotional image of the girl who got up on stage just before Madonna t the Live 8 concert a couple of years ago. I thought she had been scrubbed up pretty well by a stylist and P.R. team. She spoke with sounds I had never heard before.

Well, I'm just filling in the gaps. Ethiopia is staunchly independent and resiliently self centred.. i think we are going to get along just fine. Ethiopia was never colonised (there was a 5 year Italian occupation during WWII, but that doesn't count). They have their own language (Amaric), script (looks like some old alchemy texts), music (made for dancing), dance style (it's all in the shoulders), food (a pancake thing that has a crumpet texture and tastes like sour dough), religion (Ethiopian Orthodox Christian), time (starts at sunrise, so 12 noon is 6am) and calender (13 months). In Ethiopia it's 1999 and the millennium party is going to be in September... God created the Universe in September 3000 years ago apparently.

I'm settling into teaching. I teach 11-16 year olds, very happy I have the older kids... and super happy that their idea of primary school is a lot longer than my idea. I wear a white lab coat as my uniform. I have been told off for wearing too many bracelets, but I have compensated with and abundance of earrings and necklaces. Yes, I am petty.

My accommodation is not yet ready, I am itching to getting my own apartment (which I will share with the other foreign teachers when they arrive next month). I was in a hotel for a few nights. Now I have been moved into the family home of one of the school's owners. Lovely for the experience, but still craving my own space. All in good time.

Long Journey North

2007-07-22T14:45:00.000+01:00

Finally made it to Ethiopia. Hurrah!

after that last blog, I was called to the bus for another 3 hours of faffing before finally leaving. It was an hour to get out of the city during rush hour and all the police checkpoints.

I might just add that I was never robbed in Nairobi (although I did lose my wallet on the bus, I have a habit of losing my wallet on buses so I never keep much money or any important documents in it). A waiter informed me that robbery is not a problem anymore, It used to be about 5 years ago, but the latest government increased police wages to double. So since then police are more inclined to be honest and theft has gone down. Don't know what the deal with the road blocks is, We had over 10. I was asked for my passport several times, and many of those on the bus without papers had to pay 'fines'. They guy next to me travelling on a South African passport paid a 'fine' for not carrying his yellow fever vaccination certificate, they didn't need to see mine.

To the border in total it took 30 hours with a few stops for food and toilet breaks. the land went from Savannah to stones, to bleak barren desert again.

I had heard from other traveller that it was a difficult and harrowing border to cross so I linked up with 3 others and agreed to cross with them. When I met them the next morning one had been thrown into jail for not having 'correct' papers, one had his papers confiscated from him by the police and the other (the guy travelling on a South African passport) was sent back to Nairobi because he didn't have a visa to enter Ethiopia... possibly something to do with the fact that he was Somalian by birth, by looks and by accent.

So just me. I decided to hire a broker. I arranged the price in advance for him to assist me though immigration, change money, arrange a hotel on the Ethiopian side and sort me out with a bus to Addis.

He did all that, but I didn't need him at all, and he was more of a pain in the arse than anything. For example the crowded throngs of money changers were about 3 very pleasant and funny men. I thought back to those who warned me about the dangers of the border... yep, people who had never been there. When will I learn to stop listening to the paranoid fears of others who collect their information from the exact same sources as me, but just interpret it differently.

After finally getting rid of my broker who insisted that I really need a guide all the way to Addis Ababa (the capital in the middle of the country where the school is). I was sitting in my hotel enjoying a cup of tea and my book (Divine secrets of the Ya Ya sisterhood) when the money changer I had changed money with stopped by; "Oh hi, Look, I just want to let you know that I gave you a really shit rate. I was paying your broker a high commission, just so you know next time you shouldn't pay that high." An accountability and honesty I have never, never seen since I got to Africa... actually rare anywhere in the world.

I only changed a small amount of money anyway.

Impressed by his honesty we got chatting. He taught me the Ethiopian version of Gin Rummy and introduced me to Ethiopian food.

I followed a man from the Nairobi bus and his 9 year old adopted daughter all the way to Addis 12 hour bus ride, stay in a hotel, 5 hour bus ride) He is another kind Ethiopian, he wants to immigrate to Australia, he has all the qualifications and a sponsor, but he is still trying to collect the documents needed for his daughter who, as a baby, was left in a church where he worked. no easy task.

I'm in Addis, and the staff at the school continue to maintain my first impressions of Ethiopians as fun, kind, friendly and generous. My accommodation is not ready yet, but they have put me up in a hotel until it is. I hope to start teaching in a couple of days.

As I entered on a tourist visa there may still be immigration issues. I can not get anything from the Embassy in Melbourne as I am already in the country. We shall try here quoting the information I was given at the Embassy in Nairobi. there is even talk of me going back to UK for a month (August - Yay, Edinburgh festival) getting a business visa in London and returning. It's still up in the air.

Almost left Nairobi... almost

2007-07-16T14:35:00.000+01:00

Got to the bus/truck stop yesterday and no bus, and no truck.

They promised one at 4pm today, now it's almost 5pm. I'm obviously sitting at a computer and not on a bus, or a truck.

There is a Bus, it does exist, they are just changing the tyres. It's been sitting in the same place all day, I can't help wondering why they were not changing the tyres this morning.

And I'm told the bus journey to the border is not 15 hours, it's 26 hours on a very rough road. I got it wrong because the times on the ticket are half written in international time and half written in Swahili time.

I don't have a business visa. The headmaster of the school said just to enter on a tourist visa and that we will work it out when I get there. So same as 2 weeks ago. I don't know if it will happen. But if it doesn't I still have enough time to get back to Edinburgh to pick up work for the summer.

How's that bus looking... nope, still has two tyres lying in the mud.

Still in Nairobi

2007-07-14T10:27:00.000+01:00

Yep, the pace of Africa races along at the speed of evolution. I'm still here, I'm still waiting. What I am waiting for seems to change daily but the waiting remains the same.

I'm waiting for the Ethiopian Embassy in Melbourne to confirm that I can apply for a business visa after I have already entered the country on a tourist visa. I'm waiting for the bus/truck north not to have 'problems'.

I manage to happily spread out the day with staring into space, playing solitaire, chatting to the residents and guests at the hostel and reading. I am trying to spend as little money as possible. and I'm delighted to discover that the Masai market bead jewellery makers are happy to trade their goods for, well anything. My solitaire has improved since I found the missing 4 cards last night. The hostel guests keep disappearing on safari tours and returning with stories and photos of lions bringing down wilder beast and other magnificent experiences. I'm almost finished 'The God Delusion' by Richard Dawkins, I began reading a friend's copy in Sudan and have now bought the paperback. Good book, I don't know how willing I am going to be to trade it at the scondhand bookshop, but I still won't give up my book on tarot card reading.

Staring into space has been productive too... I now have my guest list for my ultimate dinner party: Missy and Dave, Jonathan Ross and Jane Goldman, Richard Dawkins and Britney Spears, Helen Clark and Marilyn Manson, Derren Brown and Myself. The menu will include at least 3 different kinds of lasagna and 3 different kinds of chocolate moose. I'm still considering my ultimate dead people dinner party... but Muhammad, Jesus and Marilyn Munro would have to get an invite.

When I'm on the bus I ponder random things like what would I do if I suddenly became invisible. I have decided that I'd still have a pretty good career assisting friends in burlesque and ghost tours, I'd make an excellent magician's assistant and maybe move into MI6.

Do you also get the feeling I'm spending far to much time by myself?

Today I lost my keeper. The keeper is also known as a mooncup (http://www.keeper.com/), it's a rubber cup that I use as an alternative to tampons. I served me well for 6 years, I accidental dropped it down the loo in the hostel today (the kind of loo you don't retrieve stuff from). So, back to conventional methods I guess, well at least I can buy tampons here (can't in Sudan). And while I'm expressing loss and you are squirming, I lost my other nipple ring too. *sigh* It got infected and I just decided to let it go. I have made up for it with a collection for Masai beaded belly chains.

Obviously nothing significant to report, but that doesn't stop me.

Sitting on the Fence

2007-07-10T13:01:00.000+01:00

I was not so happy about the possibility of not being able to take up the job in Ethiopia on a tangle of red tape. But upon thinking about it I thought it would be really nice to go to the Edinburgh festival again, and wonderful to catch up with a few friends in Scotland (a couple of friends in particular). I was considering waitressing work there over the summer. I started remembering things like the smell of hair dye and the sensation of walking in heels. I miss a few things that I just don't get here.

But I also want to really spend some more time in Africa and I find East Africa just a little bit too easy. If I could take up the job (by getting the correct entry visa) I'd have the opportunity to go to Djibouti and from there it's possible to get into (safe - Rosa) areas of Somalia, Eritrea and Yemen. Also I'll make money, not much, but enough so that I could visit Palestine and a few places in Europe that I missed out on or need to go back to. And after working a summer in Edinburgh next year I'll be able to go back to Aus and NZ with a bit of cash to travel around, hopefully I'll go back with a friend too.

So swings and roundabouts. The grass is green on both sides.

As it stands, I have met the man who recruits for the school who is on his holiday here with his family. he has given me an email from the Ethiopian Embassy in Melbourne that says the Ethiopian Embassy in Kenya should definitely issue me with the visa. If that doesn't work then I'll see if I can post my passport to Melbourne. They don't do email visas (understandable) and I don't do long haul flights for a bit of paperwork.

I got to the snake park, the national archives and Carnivore (a restaurant that specialises in exotic game meats) but went into none of them as they were all too expensive and in the case of the latter they only had ostrich on the menu (aside from standard chicken, pork, lamb, goat and beef). I did however get to the giraffe centre, I even paid the entry fees and fed the giraffes. Chilled animals, much nicer than horses.

I'm now staying over the dodgy end of the city. still haven't been robbed but I also haven't been out by myself or with a bag after 11pm... Nairobbery is thankfully not really living up to it's reputation.

Raelene!

2007-07-07T10:34:00.000+01:00

I got a comment on my last post from this ace chick from high school who I haven't seen in over a decade. So excuse me while I just take the opportunity to send her a personal message...

Raelene! can't believe you found me... can't believe you were looking! It's been too long. Congratulations on all your babies. I don't think you can leave your email address here without getting a million unwanted emails. I have changed my email address from lycos.com to myway.com. you can also find me on facebook or myspace (www.myspace.com/youngcrone) or you can send an email to rat.bat.cat@gmail.com ...I only use it for internet registration so don't care if it gets spammed. Looking forward to being back in touch. XX

Ok, for the other three of you... I'm still in Nairobi. the latest update on the business visa situation is that it is only possible for a New Zealander to get a business visa from Melbourne (there is no Ethiopian embassy in NZ) and nowhere else including Ethiopia. The School is trying to apply on my behalf by computer. If that is not possible they say I must apply in person. The contact at the school is coming to Nairobi this weekend, so I hope to meet up with him to discuss options.

If I have to go to Aus just for a visa: I won't. I can't afford to go to Aus to go to Ethiopia when I'm a short 13 hour truck ride from the border. If I can't get this job I'll most likely go to Addis Ababa (the Ethiopian capital) anyway (as I already have a tourist visa) and then as I'll be out of money by then, return to Edinburgh for summer work, and most likely back to NZ. In which case I hope to bring back my friend David, to give me needed purpose and direction to returning, and cause he's cool.

Hanging out in Nairobi

2007-07-03T14:45:00.000+01:00

It looks like I might be hanging out here for a while longer. I got confirmation from the school that I should get a tourist visa as long as I email an image of my passport info page first. So I did that, took two days and a bit of money. 5 mins ago I checked my email and they say not to get a visa as they need to get me a business visa first... hmmm. Why didn't they phone?

Flic is heading back to Aus tonight. She has her very own Aussie nurse and doctor to accompany her (as well as her mum) and also her bike Edward. I thought he was stolen, but I was happily mistaken. She is no longer so stressed and anxious. the doctors are really pleased with her recovery.

So I guess I'll hang out here for another while, but without the free accommodation, free breakfasts and cheap hospital food. I suppose I'll get a chance to go to the snake park, giraffe centre and other touristy things which I've been too lazy to see yet.

Then I'll make my way North to the border town where I'll wait for the go-ahead from the school which in turn is waiting for documents from immigration to get me through. aaugh, paper work. it's all so ridiculously and inefficiently officious.

Nairobi - 3 days and still haven't been robbed.

2007-06-23T13:36:00.000+01:00

Nairobi is a big, flash, fancy, green city. The biggest reminder that I'm in Africa (well aside from all the Africans) was the 10 road blocks in the 2 hour trip from the border. The road blocks are the most obvious symptom of power abuse, corruption and bad governance. my bus passed all the checks without any fines. Also on the bus ride (while I was still on the Tanzania side) I finally got to see impressive, uniquely African animals in the wild: a line of Zebras casually meandering though the plains near the road. Beautiful.

Flic's mum, Marilyn, has been kind enough to share her hotel room with me. So I'm indulging in the luxury of huge buffet breakfasts (pocketing a yogurt for later) and an actual bath, with real hot water (pocketing some soap for later). The hotel is right next to to the hospital so I have been able to visit Flic daily.

Flic is not enjoying life at the moment, can't say I blame her. She is frustrated and dealing with the effects of surgery (anxiety and lack of balance which are normal and expected) and the effects of the drugs (lethargy and foggyness, also normal and expected). Flic and I are similar in our love of independence and are both known to get annoyed with people who tell us what to do. So I can empathise with the feeling of powerless she has and have been amazed with her patience and politeness. Marilyn is at the hospital before I get out of bed and still there when I get into bed, she makes sure that Flic is cared for as a whole person. And Flic is improving, slowly, but strongly, every day.

I have stared the process of applying for my business visa for Ethiopia. Of course there is the usual hiccups along the way. The Ethiopian Embassy can only issue business visas to Kenyan residents. They suggested I get Kenyan residency first, I said that could be rather time consuming. So they suggested that I return to New Zealand to get the visa, I said that I would find that inconvenient. Then they suggested I enter as a tourist, I said that would be entering the country under false pretences (also I would not be able to residency). Then they finally said that if I could get the school to clear my entrance with Ethiopian immigration first they could then issue a visa. So I've got the school working on that possibility.

I've been using the buses here, and like in a lot of African countries the bus owners state their alliances in bold stickers across their windscreens: 'God is Great", "Allah Willing", "Chelsey", "Arsenal". They also belt out their favorite music. Yesterday I got in a bus that had some gangsta rap on full pelt. Due to my culture and upbringing I have never been overly comfortable with the word 'Nigger' or as is is now said 'Nigga". In fact I'm more comfortable with 'cunt' - possibly the result of seeing 'The Vagina Monologues' and living in Scotland. So I wasn't overly comfortable in a bus full of black men listening to lyrics encouraging all Niggas to fuck em white whoes, and fuck em up real bad. I was possibly the only one who noticed it.

I really like Tanzania - and I got a job

2007-06-18T13:43:00.000+01:00

Tanzania is cool, the people are cool, they don't point at you and yell out "foreigner" in their own language constantly. I came in on the far west, then caught an overnight train to the middle. I didn't realise that Tanzania time is an hour earlier than Burundi time, but luckily I'm an anal retentive white foreigner so I turned up for my 7am train half an hour early and because I'm in chilled out, relaxed what's-the problem Africa, the train left 35 minutes late. perfect. Spectacular views of wide open Savannah, but still no big animals. I stayed a night at some bloke-I-just-met's house. The kind of open generosity that I haven't seen since Sudan. Incredible. I gave him my fake leatherman, but nothing will match genuine welcome.

I got into Dar es Salaam and stayed in the city for a few days, I managed to get to see a museum and a couple of markets, where I bought Congolese masks for a tenth of the price that they were trying to get in Congo. I bought Flic a ebony letter opener with a hippo carving on it, she likes hippos, but she is the absolute last person you would ever buy a letter opener for... I was just thinking about her when I walked past them. Really beautiful paintings here too, but I'm going to have to miss out on those, funds are tight, and I have just asked my mother for a loan. Yep, a loan to fund my self indulgent life style because I don't want to pay interest on a credit card, I've never been the ideal daughter.

The exchange rate in Tanzania: 1 British pound travelers cheque = 2400 Tanzania shillings, 1 British pound cash = 1400 Tanzania shillings, 1 Scottish pound cash = 800 Tanzania shillings. Last time I looked Scotland was part of Britain. And they don't change Sudanese money.

The Internet server here is powered by a disabled hamster slowly limping around a hamster wheel that needs a service. It's sooo slow... even cricket is faster than this.

I was spending about two hours a day looking for work (and also not looking for work) on the Internet every day. I started applying for work in Africa, then Middle East, then Eastern Europe. I ended up applying for jobs in hospitality, childcare and teaching from Iceland to Iraq (and decided that I wouldn't take the Iraq job if I got it... bit too noisy).

After a few days in the city I decided to cut costs and move to the beach... Brilliant. I had a bungalow all to myself for only 5 USD a night, right on a postcard perfect white sand beach. I was swimming 3 times a day, eating fresh fish, fresh coconut, fresh pineapple, checking out the incredible bodies of the guys who 'worked' there, building sand castles. I met up with a Californian hippy chick called Curry so we laughed, did a ritual, belly danced, did a bit of yoga. On my last night we swam nude at night. The night sky was the ultimate with Venus and Mars brightly present and also being able to see the Big Dipper and Southern Cross in the same sky every night. Magic.

But still it's Africa, Sometimes there's no power, sometimes there's no water. I got a huge electric shock from the live wire right next to my light switch (I gave the manager my electrical tape to fix it), there were rats in my roof, and jellyfish in the sea and mosquitos everywhere. But who cares, the rats didn't bite, the jellyfish didn't sting I'm itchy but show no signs of malaria. Also there were cool animals like hundreds of crabs that would come out at night and fight their battles on the sand, and bats that would flutter around the lights to catch insects.

I would walk a kilometre down the beach and use the Internet from one of the posh hotels. And after a week of the most luxurious job search ever, yesterday I accepted a position teaching English in a primary school in Ethiopia. here is it pronounced 'utopia' which I quite like. I start mid July for the summer school. It's a one year contract, and seems to have good holidays but lousy pay. It'll do me.

I'm back in the city tonight. Tomorrow I head for Nairobi, Kenya where I'll get my Ethiopian visa, buy some decent primary-school-teacher clothes and most of all get to spend some time with Flic who is in hospital there. Hopefully I can be of some use to Flic's mum who is doing an amazing job being a mum-in-need. I hope she likes pineapples, I got her one.

Rwanda, Congo, Burundi: Summery

2007-06-10T09:23:00.001+01:00

Best thing brought: Flic (who came with a tent a knowlege of card games and a sence of humour, Long Johns (5 degress up the volcano)

Worst thing brought: Blisters.

Best thing bought: Permit for National park.

Worst thing bought: Food, man, with the exception of Burundi, the area has some pretty bland food.

Most surprising: No big animals, haven't seen a gorilla, lion, elephant... the best I've seen so far is cows with big horns. I thouht this contenent was supposed to have masses of animals. I'm too cheap to go on a safari tour, but I would like to see a zebra or a giraff or even an anteater in the wild. Also supprising is just what African woman can carry on thier heads. There is the obivious water jugs and baskets of fruit, but what i didn't expect was handbags and backpacks... or shoes, and hoes.

Typically central African: Running to throw a few punches when you hear a theif has been caught. Also staring, smiling, laughing.

What's accepted: Ignoring the potentual genoside in Darfur, looting other countries mineral wealth.

What's not accepted: Outside countries ignoring your political problems, other countries looting your mineral wealth.

What works: Motherhood and babies, the babies are chilled, they are lifted up by a limb and swung around to their mothers backs, they don't whing or cry very often and they don't wear nappys. I saw a one year old on a train being washed infont of the open window (cold air rushing in) one woman held the kid up by its arms and another poured cold water over it... the kid just looked mildly inconvenanced.

What doesn't work: The Deoderant here, some people are really honkin. Sometimes, I'm also really honking... the buses can utterly pong.

What I learnt: Strong insect repelent melts plastic

What I learnt to do: Get myself resonably clean in only 3 pints of water from a bucket.

I knew I was in Africa when: I realised that I no longer had any expectations anmore when I heard words like 'hotel', 'toilet', 'food'

So the whole Congo, Rwanda, Burundi area has been (still is) a political mess for a while. I spoke to a Congolese Poilot and asked if he was glad that the war was finally over. He said 'No'. He got a hell of a lot more money for flying guns than he does for flying food.

So here is a breif idea of what went on. Most of this I got from Lonely Planet, and from 'Shackled Continent' by Robert Guest (really good book, explains a lot and even I understood it). I'm going to leave out Burundi in this because it's confusing enough as it is:

Late 1800's: King Leopold of Belgim owned Congo, (only private owership of an African country). He enslaved locals to tap rubber and collect Ivory. He'd slice off the hands of slackers and other nasty stuff.

1908: Belgim Govenment rule of Congo. (they took it off Leopold's hands), they built a few roads but never bothered with infustructure or education.

1916: Rwanda that was held by Gemans was handed over to Belgim (a WW1 thing) There were 2 major tribes: the Hutus (85%) and Tutsis (13%), They got on fine, there was intermarriage etc. The Belgims favoured the minority Tutsis and gave them prominent positions in govenment. This peeved off the Hutus, understandably.

1960: Congo got independance, The obivious guy for the job was too soviet for the Belgims and US (who for some reason had a say). So they place Moboto in power. He was an arse who thought that being presideint just means he owns everything in the country. He inspired the word 'kleptocracy' I think it is more a Kleptatorship. During this time Congo was called Zaire, then later it was given the ironic title of Democratic republic of Congo, but I'm just going to stick with 'Congo'. Moboto also gave himself some new names including "The cock that leaves no hen untouched" I think i'll just shorten it to "The Cock".

1962: Rwanda gets independance, as it's demoracy and Hutus are the majority, Hutus win leadership. Things get bad fro the Tutsis, some flee to Uganda (they come back into the story later).

1990: Rwanda 5000 of the ousted Tutsis decide to come back; in a violent way. Uganda supported the Tutsi rebels and France, Belgim and Moboto's Congo supported the Hutu gonvenment)

1993: Peace agreement signed between the Tutsi rebels and Hutu govenment in Rwanda. But the gonvenment used propaganda to fuel tensions, they portayed the Tutsis as evil.

1994: Hutu Gonvenment extreemests began the genoside by shooting down the presidentual plane killing their own and the Burundian presidents. Within 45 minutes road blocks had been set up across the country and the genoside had begun (obiviously planned... nothing happens that fast in Africa). It lasted only 3 months and killed about 800,000 people. the genoside ended when the Tutsi rebels banded together and overthrew the gonvenment. (ok, from now on in it's the Tutsi who are in gonvemnent and the Hutus are now the rebels). The UN didn't help, the French came but helped by creating an exit route for the fleeing Hutus genosideies into Congo where they are fed and housed with foreign aid (the French are not well liked in Rwanda). From this base they made attacks back into Rwanda. So Rwanda appealed to Congo to close down the camps... Mobotu was buddies with the old Hutu govenment so encouraged them instead.

1996: Rwanda invaded Congoin the hope to scatter or kill the genocidaires and set up a buffer zone. Turned out that attacking Congo was supprisingly easy and they decided that they simply replace Mobotu who was being a pain in the arse.

1997: There were still a load of Rwandan Hutu rebels hanging out just across the border in Congo which annoyed the Rwandan gonvenment so they got together with Uganda and overthrew Mobutu and placed a guy called Kabila. The Cogolese were happy and supported the new leader, cause he couldn't be as bad as Mobutu... surely. Actually, you guessed it, he was worse (promised elections but never held them, jailed and tortured suspected opponents, printed money... actually that is a common trick with African leaders, I had a long converstaion with a Ugandan the other night tryiing to explain why printing more money doesn't make more value... it just makes more bits of paper... my explination failed). But, his biggest mistake was not fufilling his promise to Uganda and Rwanda who placed him in power. He never closed down the refugee camps that held the genocidaires.

1998: Rwanda, knowing how easy it was to attack Congo decided to do it again and overthrow the man they had put in power with teh help of their old freinds Uganda and the hodge podge of Congolese rebel groupd who also didn't like the current leader. Kabila got onto the phone and called up some of his dictator mates. Armies from Zimbabwe, Angola, and Namibia arrived. They pushed the rebels and rwandans back. The ill trained Congolese army pretty much fired at random, they were told to kill anyone with a long noes (a trate of a Tutsi) .

1999: Now it gets really confusing. At one time or another 9 National armys were involved and they all had various alliances with the several rebel groups and militas. It was a mess. They attempted a peace pact but no one honoured it. there's a simpole reason to all this. Congo is rich, filled to the brim in copper, diamonds, gold, cobalt and coltan (a rare mineral used in mobile phones. As soon as an army seizes a mine, they simply loot it and use the money to buy more wepons/planes. They didn't seem to pay their solgers though, who robbed villages and killed apes for bush meat.

2000: Rwandan and Ugandan troopws blasted eash other in a Congolese city for 6 days (distroying much of the town) over the spoils of the area. They were supposed to be on the same side. A thriving diamond market sprung up in Rwanda, a country that doesn't produce diamonds.

2001: Kabalia was assisinated. killed by his aid who in turn was shot minutes later. He was replaced by his 29 year old son Joseph.

Kabila Jr. seems to have just been a better human being, he has signed peace agreements, created a transitional govenment with leaders of the differnt groups and actually held elections. Forigen troops finally have left, and there is a huge UN presence still there. Kabila Jr. lost the election, but talking to locals they don't seem to like the new guy, even the ones who voted for him. so hopefuylly they will have a chance in the future to vote again. Africa seems to have its own form of demorcracy: one person, one vote, once.

Meanwhile here in Tanzania the big guys in the Rwandan Genoside hare being tired, thier maxomum sentance is life imprisonment, they are getting apretty good deal with HIV drugs unavaliable for most people in their home country. while, in Rwanda the smaller players in the genoside are getting local trials where the maximum sentance is death.

This has been a long blog... actually it's a bit more like writeing a time line for high school history class. It's more for my own personal record, and I don't claim it to be the most thorough repersesntation for a huge history. Just a word about Burundi, It has a similar make up of Hutus and Tutsis like Rwanda. And they even came pretty close to their own genoside, except it was the other way around, the govenment army dominated by Tutsis killed about 200,000 in 3 months, a further 100,000 fled. I never even heard about that until I got here.

Flic is doing ok.

2007-06-04T15:59:00.000+01:00

Flic is in Nairobi hospital, she has had surgery and is under sedation. Her mum is with her. She won't be doing any bike riding anytime soon, but the doctors say she is doing well. Her sister Amie keeps her blog updated.

www.wanderingword.com/nucleus/rad.php

I'm in Dar es Salaam, a city near the coast of Tanzania. I'm looking for work. I am not ready to leave Africa, I really enjoy it here. But I'll go where the money is (so proberly not Africa).

Flic's had an Accident

2007-05-31T09:09:00.000+01:00

She's ok, her family have been in touch and it seems she is recovering in the best possible way, in good hands and being taken care of. I'm not with her and like everyone who knows her I'm feeling rather impotent and helpless.

After spending a couple of mosquito infested nights in The Burundi capital of Bujumbura catching up on old Britney Spears videos, feasting on the best food since Uganda, browsing craft markets, swimming in the lakes and of course going through the usual logistics of travel planning and red tape of extending out 3 day visas, we arranged to meet in a scummy hotel in Kigoma, a little town across the border in Tanzania.

We woke up at 6am (I set my phone alarm) and left just before 7am, Flic was pumping up the tires on Edward when I left her. My bus over took her on the road about an hour into the journey at 9am. She had stopped on a bridge, I yelled out the window like a total chav (ned, skeemi, occa, bogan) but she (amazingly considering my shouting voice) didn't hear me.

I got into the agreed hotel at about 5pm (that is as scummy as the guide book promised with added extras of no running water and the smell of burning rubber mixed with decomposing fish). after dinner I went in search of an internet cafe to warn Flic to get her departure stamp from a hidden building about 20km before the border. I noticed too when I crossed the border my phone beeped, I didn't turn it off after using it for the alarm and my sim card seems to work throughout Tanzania despite it being Ugandan.

My phone rang in the evening. A voice introduced herself as Felicity's mother informed me that Felicity has had an accident, she was unconscious and in hospital in Burundi. I only know one Felicity, a ghost tour guide I worked with in Edinburgh... why would her mother be calling me? It took a few seconds to register Flic's Sunday name. I would like to think that I was composed and calm during the conversation, I said I would go straight back to Burundi to be with her. After I hung up, the shock hit me and I broke down and cried, this attracted a much larger and more silent crowd of starers than usual.

From what I understand from a few phone conversations (with annoying and confusing time delays that I didn't think happened in international calls anymore) was that Flic had been hit, she was found by a Catholic medical Aid NGO worker unconscious on the road, her bike (Edward) was gone but the luggage (that was attached to Edward and contained passport etc) was still there. They took her immediately to hospital and managed to get in contact with all the right people, her parents, insurance, foreign office and British Embassy which in turn contacted the Australian Embassy in Kenya.

Flic has since regained consciousness and movement and was showing all the signs of a healthy recovery. In my head I would like to believe that she was saved by her dreadlocks cushioning the blow, I have no idea what actually happened. Last I heard, she was being flown to Kenya or South Africa for better medical treatment. I expect nothing less than a full and complete recovery.

I've only known Flic a month, by have spent more time with her than anyone one else this year. She's Awesome.

Update Map

2007-05-29T11:16:00.000+01:00

Love maps. I'm in Burundi, tomorrow I'll hopefully make through the Tanzania border and then (on the red line of future travel) I'll get a train to the coast, Flic will most likely accompany me for the first half of the train ride they she will cycle to North Tanzania. I don't know what I'm doing. The volunteer programme I had intended to do here actually expected me to pay fees... I'm now on my last 500 pounds (not bad since I left the UK with 2000 pounds and have managed to make it last 9 months so far. So I must find work. Either volunteer with a sustenance wage, or an internship, or other work... and If that means I have to leave Africa for a while, then so be it.

I was hoping to stay here (in Africa) for another year and a bit then return to Scotland in July 2008 (I will need to get a new passport then) and spent July-Aug 2008 there doing hospitality work and catching up with old friends before resigning myself back to NZ to stagnate or go to Art School or get a real job and be a productive member of society or something. But that is all in the future: right now I have 48 mosquito bites, Whitney Huston belts out power ballads on the radio and the news is announced in Swahili just as loud on the other radio, a local goes though all his telephone ring tones and after one hour Lycos mail still hasn't opened.

The day I turned 31

2007-05-26T14:35:00.000+01:00

I try not to linger to much on details, I think it is better to try and keep it brief... except I'm not very good at not rambling. I though that to give you an idea of life in detail for one day. My birthday seemed like a good idea as I can compare it to last year: I worked a day in Minuteman, got my first hemorrhoid which was congratulated by my flatmate, had a great night out at the Holyrood Tavern where I used to work, a quick photo shoot for the Nukes surf band and the day off the next day to introduce an arachaphob friend to a tarantula at the butterfly farm. great day.

by comparison: May 24th 2007 (all times approximate as I don't have a working watch... don't need it) Ginsenyi, Rwanda

04.00 Woke up to a banging noise outside the hotel room, when to check to out, didn't see anything more than a couple of cats on the roof.

05.00 Woke again to a mosquito buzzing in my ear, so I got up and set up the mosquito net above my bed. I woke up Flic who was in the bed next to me, we were sharing a twin room, she also set up her net.

08.00 Woke up. I finished reading my book, I read a lot here, more than I have read in my life I think, It helps to have a good book for all the times spent waiting. This book was excellent, it's called 'shackled Continent' a former writer from 'the economist' looks at why Africa is a mess, I have a much better understanding of it all now. I would never have bothered to read the book if I was not here, But I now have an understanding or the people and places so things make a bit more sense. Flic gave me a snickers bar... yum.

09.00 popped to the hotel reception and gave them my bucket for hot water so I could have a hot water bucket shower. luxury.

09.30 Flic and I joined Fred, a Canadian that we met up the Volcano in Congo the day before, for breakfast. I ordered one tomato and toast each, a black tea for me and for Flic warm milk.

09.35 I got my omelet and tea.

09.40 we got presented with 4 pieces of uncooked bread bun which we send back to be toasted.

09.50 the toast and Flic's milk

10.00 the butter arrives

10.05 after a bit of questioning Flic got a cold omelet. Despite ordering the same thing for 4 days in the same hotel somehow they get it different every time. They over charged because they claimed that today the omelets had 3 eggs instead of 2.

10.30 packing and procrastinating packing, it is kind of equivalent to cleaning my room. Flic gave me another gift of a bracelet she made from hair beads in the colours of the Ethiopian flag (rasta colours)

11.29 Decided I had to pack my steel caps and wear my flip-flops due to my under-the-callus blister that i had popped the night before had re-sealed and re-filled.

11.30 spent a while negotiating with the hotel in bad french to store our luggage in the office while we went out, they were not happy about the bike in their grubby office.

12.00 one hour in the internet, I wrote and posted the blog on Congo while my email slowly opened, took 45 mins to finally get there: no emails. filled in the rest of the hour mucking about on Myspace. Flic researched logistics, visa, hotels and country information.

13.00 Left our small bags at the internet place and went down to the lake for a swim, were followed by a few children and 3 women who laughed at the state of my skirt that is now ripped at the back.

13.15 went swimming in the lake as a small crowd formed to watch the spectacle. Some girls came in the water with us and we impressed them with our handstands.

13.30 left the water and attempted to get dressed and remove the wet bikinis with some sort of dignity. the children (now numbering 30) kept a respectful distance of about 40cm... moving in closer to get a better look and better laugh at my unmaintained bikini line and discussing the world of weirdness before them.

14.00 back to the hotel for their $2 all you can eat buffet of starchy foods.

14.30 bought bus tickets to the capital Kigali, negotiated the price of getting the bike on the bus.

14.45 played card games for an hour waiting for the bus to leave.

15.50 popped across the road to the bus station, although no one helped me with my bag a few in the ubiquitous crowd asked for money for their services. I don't pay people who do nothing. I got a seat over the luggage compartment on the (rather large) bus, this way i could see if anyone was getting my bag out when we stopped.

16.07 Bus left. This is surprisingly on time. Flic was in the aisle so she had a smelly old man who dribbled on himself engage her in conversation that was translated by the guy behind ("you are lovely etc"). We had fantastic views of children, hills, children, lush green farms, children.. tons of children, I mean ridiculous amounts of children... how are all these kids going to get jobs when there grow up? Not many old people, I think the average life expecancy in this area is about 47 years... which makes me over middle age.

20.00 Dark arrival into Kigali, the bus dropped us off near a hotel we found in the guidebook. Our legs were still suffering from the volcano hike and I was weighted down with a far-too-full backpack and Flic has her bike (Edward) the hotel was full except for the most expensive room, but the staff were rude so we chose to walk to the next one.

21.00 after an hour walking up steep hills with all our gear loaded onto Edward, a group of guys approached us one moved in like he was gong to push me... showing off to his mates, as he grabbed my arm i pushed him back he resisted so i punched him in the shoulder "oh solly, solly" he said "Go Away." I said.

21.30 We asked a many people, referred to our maps a lot and finally got to our third choice of hotel. it was a bit smelly, but the price was good so we booked for 2 nights. I pointed out on the registration card that it was my birthday and asked for a discount... I have got into the habit of saying things in slow, clear English then attempting to repeat them in bad french, as I don't know the french for "may I have a discount?" I replaced it with "a little gift for me?" The manager smiled and charged us full price.

21.35 The manager returned with a lovely and very frilly Christmas card sealed in plastic and unwritten on. "happy aniversaire" she said, I was chuffed.

21.40 The manager returned again and showed us photos of his girlfriend who does no live in the city but is going to school somewhere at the moment.

21.45 The manager returned again to show us some more pictures of his girlfriend, they shall be married next year, he is very happy about that.

22.00 we went out in search of food.

22.30 our 5th resturant and a hell of a lot of walking and talking to people later we found a place that was: 1) open, 2) had food 3) had a cook and 4) could serve us. I orders number 31 on the menu: chicken soup. perfect, well worth the wait.

23.00 headed back to the hotel, where I wrote this down and watched an occasional beetle scuttle across the floor.

Yep, so that is a day in the life. tomorrow Flic and I go to Burundi. It's a county that I only learn existed last week. did you know about it? its tiny and just blow Rwanda... I have know idea what is there, hopefully a boat and a way to get through to Tanzania.

CONGO!

2007-05-23T14:07:00.000+01:00

Yep, that's right the The Democratic Republic of Congo, The DRC, The Congo. I know it's arrogant to be impressed with just going to a country but I impress myself. This is the second time I have wandered out of my guide book, actually my 2004 lonely planet (Africa on a shoestring) says to stay away from Congo, and definitely don't go out at night. By contrast the more recent addition of Lonely planet East Africa that Flic has recommends the volcano and also to check out Congo's excellent night life... how fast things change.

The food here is, well, not very nice. For meat eaters the common food is cooked green bananas (not as flavoursome as you might think) and a block of solid old animal flesh overcooked and covered in oil. For a vegetarian there is a lot of confusion followed by banana and what looks like boiled nettle hiding the grissel of fish. Mmmm. Fortunately we found a nice restaurant that offered good curries for pretty cheap... I think I may have had one too many curries on my first night.

So after a lot of the typical red tape it takes to do anything in this place we finally got to climb the volcano. I was still a bit iffy from the one-too-many curries, and totally unfit. After one hour I was puffing and panting, whinging and moaning, greeting and ballin. In my head I thought I was never going to make it, I kept thinking "spent bloody $100 on this bloody permit, didn't bloody see the gorillas, didn't bloody go rafting, I bloody spent my bloody money on this bloody volcano that I'm not even going to bloody be able to climb" Luckily Flic was there, she put up with my whinging and tricked me into going just a little bit more, and a little bit more after that. I was walking frustratingly slow, kind of like being stuck behind an old lady on a busy street slow... except I was that old lady. Actually It's my birthday today, I'm 31, Flic bought me a snickers bar and made me a bracelet.

On the trip with us was a German documentary film crew that had planned 3 years to climb. And some local Congolese scientists monitoring the volcano's activity. The Germans, unsurprisingly, were rather well equipt, they had super rain coats, and camping chairs, sleeping mats and wind breakers. We were a little less prepared, we had a white grain sack with "Net weight 100kg" written on the side... they served all the same functions of the German's stuff but we didn't need 29 porters. The Congolese skipped up and down the volcano in their plastic sandals and t-shirts.

After 7.5 hours or so, we had done it. The volcano was awesome, lava bubbling away inside, a thunderstorm passed by but missed us fortunately, as Flic and I were sharing Flic's summer weight one man tent. So here is a comparison of stuff I've climbed:

Volcan Nyiragongo, Goma, Congo: 3470m

Annamalai hill, Tiruvannamalai, India: somewhere between 815m & 4000m (internet accuracy)

Mount Sinai, Shamil Shek Egypt: 2285m

St Mary's Peak, Flinder's Ranges, Australia: 1170m (but I stopped 50m from the top)

Aurthur's Seat, Edinburgh, Scotland: 305m

Back in Rwanda my legs are complaining, and the laundry was calling. after 6 buckets (wash, wash, rinse, wash, rinse, rinse) the water was still manky brown. We are going to go for a swim in the lake and head into the capital today. I'll try and give you the low down on the history as I attempt to understand it myself. I'll also upload photos and spell check as technology permits.

Looking back at Uganda

2007-05-23T13:46:00.000+01:00

Best thing brought: Well I didn't actually bring my mother, but meeting up with her was a pretty good idea.

Worst thing brought: Bad memory for PIN numbers.

Best thing bought: Rolex: which is a chapati and an omelet rolled together for about 30c US.

Worst thing bought: Internet time on a computer that took one hour to open my email but shut down just before I got to read it.

Most surprising: That I haven't been maimed in a motorbike accident or got malaria yet... actually the thing that has held me back most is waiting for a British bank letter to arrive... approx 3 weeks of down time.

Typically Ugandan: Fabulous hair bright clothes incredible arse.

What's accepted: Staring.

What's not accepted: Staring back.

What works: Tourism.

What doesn't work: Electricity, they have the source of the Nile and one of the worlds most powerful waterfalls, but what little hydro electrics they do make gets sold to Kenya who sells it back to Uganda for a profit (an agreement was made a long time ago). So they import diesel to run their generators.

I knew I was in Africa when: Listening to someone go though all their ringtones on the bus didn't annoy me.

Got a camera... The toilet photos are back.

2007-05-17T13:21:00.000+01:00

Yes, that's right, my obsession with documenting the way the same basic human action is done so differently in different countries is back... definitely not by popular demand.

This is my ideal loo. From a lovely back packers in the south of Uganda it's clean versatile and practical. it's a squatty with a flush and a butt-hose. Everything you could possibly want in one toilet.

And this is a toilet from a Ugandan petrol station, you may notice the lack of hole fortunately the concrete is sloped down to the gutter. For number 1s only I expect (hope).

Back in the Southern Hemisphere

2007-05-17T11:44:00.000+01:00

On Tuesday I picked up my Rwandan visa, hitched a lift with a kind Dutch lass I met in the Embassy and crossed the equator to a little border town in Uganda.

Yesterday was totally spent travelling a relatively short distance. I got from Uganda though to the Rwandan capital (Kigali) in the middle of the country then out to where I am now next to the Congolese border where I have met up with Flic. She (of course) also has a blog: www.wanderingword.com/nucleus/rad.php .

Tomorrow we'll pop over to Congo. There is a volcano there that looks awesome, we intend to climb it and stay the night up there. It's going to be ace. The Congo night life is reported to be fantastic too.

It's nice to be on the move again. I'm heading south into winter while those in Sudan are moving swiftly into an intense summer. I still see Orion's belt every night, it is now starting to turn upside down... or maybe it's the right way up. Actually this is the first time in 5 years that I have been in my home hemisphere. And of course the moon that looks like this ) when it is waxing in the North and like this ( in the South and has been smiling or frowning at me on the equator is starting to turn.

I'm speaking French a bit, mainly by speaking English with a bad French accent, and I'm not dealing with this French keyboard at all well. But even when I was in English speaking Uganda I had problems trying to understand people... and people refused to believe that English is my first and only language as to them I speak so badly.

Thought I was fucked... now I'm fine.

2007-05-13T14:38:00.000+01:00

After waiting 6 days for my new PIN to be sent to my old flat I phoned the bank, the lad informed me that it was totally not possible to have any for of letter sent from the bank as I was not authorised to do any form of phone banking. And no I can not set up phone banking now, no he can not help, no there is nothing I could do, no Bank of Scotland is not connected to any banks in Uganda, no visa card services does not apply even though I have the visa logo on my card, and no you can't do anything in Uganda you will have to contact your branch, no they don't have a phone.

I was fucked. no access to my money, all this waiting here for nothing. I had been living pretty cheap, eating bananas and avocados but even then I would have enough money for only a week. Insurance couldn't cover it. I have a credit card at zero but without earning money I wouldn't be able to pay it back until I left Africa. I know my mother would help me, I could open a bank account though my friends dad at the bank of Cairo and get my mother to put money in... after Africa return to Scotland physically withdraw my money from the bank and pay her back. It was all shite.

Then while I was attending a free lunch help by the Cairo bank I got a phone call from David in Edinburgh. He said "A bank letter arrived for you, shall I open it." In my mind David had both angel wings and a Superman cape on his back at this moment... it was my PIN. It works, I have money, I have freedom, I have possibilities. I even have my tolerance for Christian Evangelists back.

So I'm trying to get in touch with Flic who is already in Rwanda to see if I can catch up with her (takes 2 days to get the visa)... if not I might just head for Tanzania. There's no work for me here, but I'm in touch with a volunteer organisation that is based in the Arts in Tanzania maybe I'll have more luck there.

Turns out I, um, did forget my bloody PIN. Instead of putting all my cards onto the number I had used for the past 4 years, a couple of weeks before I left the UK I changed them all to a new one... one that I forgot in ATMless Sudan. Yep, I'm an idiot.

Bored, sick of waiting, sick of Christians.

2007-05-11T12:03:00.000+01:00

I think I have been in Uganda about 3-4 weeks now, and I'm still doing a whole lot of nothing. I'm stuck in a backpackers hostel with minimal money playing card games without the five of diamonds, reading less and less interesting books from the hostel book swap and watching crap on satelite while the radio plays at the same volume.

Why? Money. Not that I don't have it, It's that I can't get to it. First my card had expired, it took a week for my mail to get here, turns out I didn't have a new card in amoungst my mail but I did have the letter asking why I hadn't activated the new card. From these letters I realised the card that had expired was actually not where my money was, so happily I skipped to the closest ATM to get some cash out from the other account. Wrong PIN. No it's bloody not. I know my bloody PIN. So I phoned the bank who asked me piles of questions and said they will send me a PIN by mail (to my old address in Edinburgh). That was 6 days ago. and I thought Africa was slow.

The backpackers is cool, I have been hanging out with Flic. She is in the same situation waiting for her camera to arrive from Australia... last recorded in London where they changed the tracking number... wasn't tecnology supposed to make these things more efficent? She's headed off to Rwanda to beat her Visa expiry date. If I got access to my money tomorrow I would join her, there is a volcano in Congo I would like to climb, but not alone.

Since moving out of the Arab world two groups of people have popped up in swarms... Israli tourists and Christian evangilists. It's the Christians that are bothering me at the moment. Their arrogant belief that they have the monopoly on truth grates me. The idea that only 23% of the world are right and everyone else is wrong... actually less than 23% because there are always the right and the wrong kind of Christians, what kind of horrible, exclusionary, narrow minded God is that that they follow. It must be so wonderful to know that your stories are right and that all other stories wrong... but they are going to be lonely in heaven without all of us sinners.

Wahine toa

2007-05-04T11:04:00.000+01:00

Wahine toa means ‘strong women’ in Maori, and I’ve been hanging out with a few of them lately.

Firstly my mother came to Uganda for a week. We went to Jinja, a wee tourist and NGO town at ‘The source of the Nile’. Then we cruised up to a national park where we went for a trek up a hill and saw some big mammals called cows and some curious looking birds, called chickens. We also saw loads of goats and a few lizards… actually in Jinja we did catch a beautiful green emerald snake moving swiftly through the barstools at the backpackers. It was about a mitre long and the width of my thumb, totally harmless, but we didn’t know that at the time.

My mother is very chilled out. She hitchhiked from Cape Town to Kenya before blogs were invented. Still she sleeps in shared dorms, jumps on the back of trucks and eats cooked green bananas sold through bus windows like she has never stopped travelling. Even on an pre-dawn trip to catch the first bus (the first bus gets the diesel, the others are not guaranteed) she didn’t fluff or fuss… even though that trip was in darkness downhill over roads that were more pothole than road, two motorbikes, six people, one headlight and almost no fuel for 20 minutes. Maybe there is a travelling gene. New Zealanders tend to travel a lot, our European ancestors were the intrepid few who braved leaving their home just to live on a island no one had ever heard of… but Americans also have similar origins and they don’t seem to travel as much while Australian do travel… although their ancestors didn’t choose to end up in Aus.

Also Margaret bought me a new camera, so next time I’m on a computer with a USB I’ll upload. I have managed to get other peoples photos as well so I might be able to fill in a lot of blog entries with pictures. Yay

When I was in Sudan a few people told me that it was impossible to travel south overland into Uganda. But a friend of my lovely friend Amanda had already done this; I knew of her, I knew her name was Michelle. It was possible because I knew that Michelle had done it and was living happily in Uganda. So while my mother and I were in Jinga we asked around and tracked her down. Cool chick, she manages a backpackers/campsite the looks over the Nile. Turns out she didn’t travel over land into Uganda, but she has travelled all across Africa as a tour guide.

I’m now hanging out in another backpackers; we swap books and play card games. There is a loud of Americans, a banter of Scots, a defensive of Israelis (I’m out of the Arab world) an ay of Canadians, a hang of Brits, a efficient of Scandinavians and a annoyance of Christian do-gooders.

In amongst them I found Flick, a dread-headed Aussie lass who I met in Sudan, she had come down from Cairo with her bike… push-bike. She has cycled loads of the way and also spent a fair wack of time on top of trucks. So yet another strong woman.

None of there chicks really think of themselves as anything special, they are just doing what they want to do and dealing with life as it comes. But they are unique because they do it instead of just think it, they take the risk and the have faith that it’s just work. They have the right attitude.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m still treading water: looking for jobs, looking for a life to start, looking for something to happen, something to be. Until then I send out CVs and hope my money doesn’t run out first.

Finding my feet so I can land on them

2007-04-17T19:05:00.000+01:00

Kampala is a massive contrast to Khartoum. Instantly and most obviously it's shown in the people who are free, open, vibrant and colourful. I'm seeing knees and elbows and hair in all sorts of weird and wonderful variations (considering getting braids myself).

The next striking difference is the land. I never thought that I would look back at Khartoum and think of it as clean, but comparatively it is. In Khartoum they dispose of rubbish by dumping it in a vacant lot and burning it each now and then. The methods are the same here, the difference is that in dry Khartoum there is not a huge chance for bacteria to breed. Here on the other hand, the wet air, warm climate and regular rainfall are ideal conditions for creating a festering stench of flies, mould, rodent habitats and general filth. I have begun a neurotic habit of using hand antibacterial gel constantly.

When I arrived I was feeling washed up and failed from fleeing the tough bits of South Sudan, sick of being on my own and tired of always saying goodbye to awesome and awe-inspiring people. So I was feeling right sorry for my pitiful self. Thoughts of what-the-fuck-am-I-doing-with-my-life, where-is-this-all-leading and where's-my-place-in-the-world all started to settle in my head. For the very first time in 8 years I seriously considered going back to New Zealand... to do what? Art school post grad. Yet another year of self indulgent procrastination from achieving anything of substance. An easy escape.

My guest house was scummy for even my exceedingly low African standards. Although it was in the bubbly centre of town it wasn't cool. I shared a room with 3 men: a loud Kenyan who farted in his sleep, a sleazy Congolese who snored and a Japanese guy who I can't really complain about. Below the guest house the shop played their one CD loud and proud 24-7, I mean I really like Dolly Parton, but there is only so much 'Islands in the sun' any person can take. The deal breaker was the toilet, no seat, pitiful flush, vile smell and a constant puddle, right next to the shower that had the same smell so I never felt clean.

I found a wad of Sudanese currency I had hidden in a secret pocket (so had more money than I thought in Sudan but the exchange rate to Ugandan shillings is weak) . But my bank card has expired so I'm eating into the last of my hard currency... It's getting really low. shit.

I'm a bit more sorted out now. I made contact with the father of a lovely lass I met in Egypt, I was expecting a polite-but-dismissive chat and maybe a cup of tea if I was lucky. I got sorted out with a SIM card (phone number of my choice) , dinner, night out a a club, introduction to some cool locals, and a job interview. Wow.

I have also moved guest houses to a place full of blankies who know how to play shit-head. It has clean toilets and hot showers.

My mother arrives in a couple of days, and my fantastic friend David has posted me my mail. There is a chance my new bank card will not be amongst that (my bank mail is being sent to my old flat that was inhabited by a particually messy bloke) , but the mail will contain all my bank details so I might be able to get a new card sent here. I hate UK banks... they are so much effort.

Sudan in Retrospect

2007-04-14T12:46:00.000+01:00

Best thing brought: Sleeping bag for overnight camping at the pyramids.

Worst thing brought: Sexy little black dress, a dormant STI.

Best thing bought: Food and drink: cheap, filling and wonderful.

Worst thing bought: The travel permits for down south, 44USD, and ages to get... no one checked them, not once, not even a glance, they didn't give a monkeys.

Most surprising: Being fired, and the general attitude of the volunteer facilitator. The incredible support of fellow volunteers who instantly and brilliantly fall into the roles of friend, confident, guide, family member and entertainer.

Typically Sudanese: Being invited into a strangers house and them treating you like it is the biggest honour in the world to have you there, infectious generosity beyond compare.

What's accepted: Gender inequality, I have somehow turned into a raving feminist, I liken they way women are treated here to apartheid. women are seen as not just different but inferior, I ask if it is wrong to let a Muslim drive a truck but not a christian - of course it is wrong. I ask is it wrong to let a black person drive a truck but not an Asian - of course it is wrong. I ask, so why are women not entitled to passenger vehicles or heavy vehicles licences here - oh, but that's because they are female. Defended in the name of tradition (like slavery was) and religion (like Human sacrifice was)... see, absolutely raving.

What's not accepted: questioning authority, being atheist, a female who wants to cut her hair short (I was ok, because I'm growing out my short hair... into a fluffy mouse brown mullet as it turns out, my hair never left the 80s)

What works: pay as you go mobile phones, without addresses or credit people in mud houses with 2 hours electricity a night stay in touch easily. Also tea ladies, butt hoses, trees and bus boys.

What doesn't work: Plastic, it's everywhere, seriously Plastic bottles and bags should be banned until there is some sort of system of recycling or effective disposal.

What I learnt: The UN are not liked by many, they are seen as corrupt pawns of western ideology that create inflation, make the rich richer, exploit poor nations, pander to the US and never actually resolve any problems.

What I learnt to do: Smoke shisha without coughing. listen to the ideas and opinions of my students (see above).

I knew I was in Africa when: The tomatoes in my fridge were frozen solid but the the water in ice tray in my freezer remained liquid.

Out of the Desert, Over the Savannah and into the Jungle

2007-04-13T09:23:00.000+01:00

I've had quite a diverse week. It has already become a patchwork of memories all stitched together hicklety-picklety. Nothing dramatic happened: no dive-rolling from the Lords Resistance Army, no fighting off rapists, no chasing after thieves... I had listened to so much scary information I had started to believe it was going to be a battle of violence and chaos all the way. Yes, there pockets of violence and chaos, but mostly it is everyday people doing their everyday things.

John was an inspiration. In Dilling we climbed up a stone hill and watched the sunset. High enough to see 360 degrees of horizon and low enough to watch the people in the town do what they had to do before the light fades and before the town's electricity starts. I made the comment that it was going to be hard getting down the hill (me barefooted and in a skirt), he said "Not hard: fun." By golly, he's right. Isn't that what fun is, Doing something difficult enough that you enjoy the challenge. How boring life would be if everything was easy.

I caught a bus to the next town 4 hours south, It is a UN centre so it had 24 hour electricity. I was met by John's friend's cousin and stayed with her and her lovely family in a little mud-hut village only 10 minutes walk out of the town. They were the best, most chilled out, coolest people ever. It was awesome staying with them. I can't speak Arabic but I can say things like "may I please use the shower" and "where is the toilet" ... ok, I can say "Possible wash?" and "toilet where?" but it's all in the hand gestures and intonation. The father could speak English which helped. I maybe should have stayed longer. I really enjoyed the mud-hut lifestyle and they really were the coolest people.

After that I was on my own, I got a Lorie, a bus packed with 40 people and a truck down to the next town called Bentiu, it took about 24 hours, including a 3 hour wait at a bus stop and a 4 hour sleep on a hired bed in a truck stop. I did this simply by asking people where they were going, I found an unarmed silent soldier who was going to the same place as me... and followed him. For the whole 24 hours I was like his pet, where he went I followed. He didn't say much, but seemed to understand English, he nodded or shook his head in response to my incessant questioning.

The land changed from desert to savannah, the white robes on the men started to meld into bright shirts and trousers. Camels turned into goats and donkeys, Clear sky filled with hawks, storks and clouds. Orange turned to green. Women's hair and shoulders became visable.

Bentiu was expensive, It is the result of all the NGOs that have come in. Normally a guest house is 3USD, but here they were asking 63USD and they would settle for no less than 30USD, and that was after some hard bargaining. I left Khartoum with about 400USD in Sudanese currency, I though it would be more than enough, If the other stops were anything like this I wasn't going to make it... there are no international cash machines in Sudan, and no money exchanges where I was.

Bentiu was also Hot (Hot with a capital letter). I knew what to do to sleep; I poured water over my purple flowery moo-moo (I bought it in Dilling, Sudanese sleep wear comes in bright, bold and flowery or brighter bolder and more flowery... they have yet to release a line in ethno-punk-sophista-goth yet) . In Khartoum the water would evaporate into the dry air and be all lovely and cooling. In Bentiu the water became hot, so I was just lying in a hot wet moo-moo.

I was hot, tired, exhausted in fact. My motivation, determination, keenness, tenacity and the general will to experience this as fun had left me. I could get more trucks south and carry on. But I decided not to. If I was travelling with someone I we would have probably encouraged each other to keep going, But I wasn't really up for encouraging myself, so I wandered over to the airport (a big falling-apart barn in a field) and got a (200USD) ticket to Juba. A wee 12 seater plane took me there over stunning scenery and through a bumpy storm.

In Juba I went straight to the bus stop and book a ticket on the next transport heading south. It was a bus going straight to Kampala, the capital of Uganda, leaving the next morning. The little guest house behind the bus station was only 20USD (much cheaper than I had anticipated) but it cleared me out of all my Sudanese cash, I changed some US dollars to have dinner. South Sudan is like another country, I was served by a waitress wearing a tiny strappy top and tight cut-off jeans with hair like Macy Grey, in a cafe/bar. I ate beef and chips on a flat plate with a fork... stuff I haven't seen for months.

I had spoken so much about my wonderful husband waiting ever so patiently for me in Juba that I was a bit disappointed when I got there to remember that he didn't exist. Darn

The Bus to Kampala was an uneventful 12 hours with no toilet stops (well for a lady wearing trousers anyway), a man with a cowboy hat and bad breath sitting next to me delighted in telling me how dangerous the road was and how we could be stopped by rebels or bandits on the way. The presence five solders with AK47s on the bus that made me nervous when they first got on, then made me more comfortable.

I'm in Uganda, shared a room with 2 Kenyan guys who were on my bus, now I'm in a dorm room in a shabby little guest house in the city. There are cash machines here... unfortunately my bank card expired in December. Hopefully My mother (who is in Hungary or somewhere) will be able to pick up the new one when she stops by Edinburgh, she'll be here next week.

If my I had a working camera you would be seeing photos of all those typically beautiful and fascinating sites associated with Africa: boy with stick and tyre; huge orange sun low in a red sky silhouetting black trees; flocks of birds in elegant formation; chickens pecking at my feet on the bus; lorry packed to the hilt with people, furniture, bags and children; skinny old lady with a long stick standing on one leg, her face covered in patterned scarification staring at me like I was the strangest thing she had ever seen; fields of little round mud brick houses with thatched roofs; and some of the most interesting toilets I have ever used. But my camera is still broken so you'll just have to imagine it.

Leaving Las Khartoum

2007-04-07T08:46:00.000+01:00

So I'm on my way, I travelled 9 hours to meet up with Kasia and Maria two volunteers who work long hours in the middle of nowhere (outside a place called El Obeid) teaching English and other useful skills to Darfurians. Really wonderful to see them. I met them at the church where mass was in full swing, I went through the wrong door and ended up in the wings stage left with a few nuns. I pretended I was praying while sending a text to Kasia who came and found me. Spent a night in a convent, in a hospital bed. all very clean and white and proper.

Yesterday I came down to Dilling. I'm spending a couple of nights here hanging out with John, a volunteer from the programme that I was with. It's beautiful, really peaceful and chilled. they have electricity for two hours in the evening... how the hell am I typing this then? some places (like the information centre at the University where John works) have their own generators.

I'm staying in a guest room at an NGO called FAR (something African relief - I think) . It's more expensive than a guest house but the information is invaluable. The owner/manager/whatever is from Uganda and knows the roads south. so I asked him a few things and we went through my maps together (maps that I printed off the UN joint logistics centre website before I left) :

Are the trucks regular? yes, there are no buses but plenty of trucks that take passengers.
Land mines? there are land mines in the areas, but the trucks don't drive in those areas.
Guest houses? there are a few, but lots of people who travel sleep outside, you will be probably invited to stay in peoples houses.
Do women and children travel these routes? Yes, not as much as the men, but you'll find them.
Language? it will be mostly Arabic but you'll get more English the further south you go.
Timescale? to Uganda probably 6-9 days.

Good info.

I was feeling all very apathetic and numb about travelling, I think I might have been my defence to all the information of how dangerous it is to travel south. I know it is not going to be easy, and yes I know it's dangerous. but after talking to loads of people I still think it is my safest and most practical overland route. I have now decided that to stop myself going crazy with anxiety that I'm only going to listen to advise from people who have actually been here. Now that I'm on my way and I'm getting useful advice (like information about water... there will be nothing filtered for a good part of the trip, I have purification tablets for 75 litres) I'm starting to get more excited, and am really looking forward to the journey.

What Sudan lacks in infrastructure, sealed roads, public transport systems and reliability, it makes up for in people who consider it an absolute honour to help a foreigner.

I still need to find a contact in Juba. The city that is second only to Tokyo in accommodation prices.

It all seems very do-able, and you may see being a small single female traveller as a disadvantage, but there are a hell of a lot a benefits, like the overwhelming desire for people to protect me. To make myself more understandable, and more treasured I have invented a husband, I'm wearing a wedding ring, and have photos (thanks Joss). My husband is perfect, he is waiting for me in Juba, and he is big and tough and strong and powerful (but not rich) and he owns me.

I have had to lose a lot of weight... my bag, not me personally. I'm down to one pair of trousers, one skirt, a face flannel for a towel (trick learnt from mick). I still have too much weight, sleeping bag, mosquito net, first aid. Also loads of unnecessaries, I have two red t-shirts, one is about the bucket fountain in wellington and was designed by my friend so I can't lose that, and the other was given to me when I joined the ministry of burlesque in 2003 and it says 'foxy' on the back so I can't lost that either. I have two pairs of socks and two bras but 7 pairs of pants... and you can't give pants away so it means throwing them away. I'm far to attached to my possessions to ever be Buddhist.

By the way (Alison), I'm back to size 12. I Had toned into a trim size ten last year when I was dancing, and ghost touring. but after months of no exercise and sugary foods I'm back to normal. my can-can butt is comfortably sliding down to the backs of my knees and since I stopped pole-dancing the bingo wings have made a comeback.

This might be my last post for a few hundred kilometres, I'm losing reception on my phone too. So remember no news is good news. I'll be in touch as soon as I can.

The South Sudan Plan

2007-04-04T10:41:00.000+01:00

Just so you have a sort of idea what i'm going to do I'm going to get to Uganda anyway I can. I have made a wee map for you while I wait to get my final pay check from the newspaper. I have several options, I don't know what will be best until I get there.

Getting ready to leave

2007-04-03T07:57:00.000+01:00

Printing photos, sending emails, writing reports, applying for visas, saying goodbyes, scrutinising maps, attending parties, cleaning out dust. I leave on Thursday the 5th, I must be out of the country by the time my visa expires on the 21st, That give me 2 weeks to get from here to the Ugandan boarder. This will be my most hard-core travelling I have done yet. There are a few legs of the journey that have no bus routes, actually no roads. But there are trucks that deliver goods all across the country. and once I get into the south, English becomes the common language. At the end of it when I get through into Uganda I get to hang out with my mother for a bit. She is making her way back to NZ from England via anywhere she can add to her itinerary.

I spent the past weekend (which was the regular Friday day off with an extra bonus of Prophet Mohammed's birthday on Saturday) hanging about doing S.F.A. at the main volunteer flat so am now having to make up for it. while I was enjoying doing nothing I had left my door open at my house so a layer of very fine dust covered every visible surface. darn. It was only a couple of mils thick but it just gets everywhere.

I know I have mentioned the heat before but I really don't think I can over stress it. It's hot here. I have been using different methods to keep cool at night. First I was sleeping nude under the fan, I would take a cold shower several times during the night. Then after talking to the other volunteers I was advised of some more ingenious methods. Like sleeping clothed, and taking the cold showers while dressed. Using this idea I have discovered that soaking my sheets in water before I go to bed helps, and I've have even started to put my sheets in the fridge. Emily has a great idea, she soaks a face flannel in water and freezes it in a U shape to place behind her neck.

The days can also be tough. I can't take cold showers during the day because the water tank on the roof heats up, so I need to fill up a bucket and let it cool down.

You guys seemed to really enjoy that last post, thank you for your emails and myspace messages.. It's really amazing to be in contact with so many of you. I even got my first overseas phone call (from Star, who is now in Abu Dahbi) which was a delight. My mother once travelled from South Africa to Kenya.. she did it without email, blogs, myspace, text messages, downloadable UN maps. It was all landlines and post offices in those days. Anyway, here's a couple more classroom conversations for ya.

Engineering Students: 'Visit to the Ethnographic Museum' class

Ehab: Miss Rayshil, can I ask you a question?
Me: Sure
Ehab: That thing in your face, er, what is it.
Me: A piercing
Ehab: Piercing? Right. Is it a tribal thing?
Me: No, it's personal choice, but a lot of my friends have different piercings, Kind of like we are trying to create our own tribe.
Ehab: I see them on movies and music videos. Do you do it to yourself because you think it looks cool?
Me: Er, yes, I guess I do.
Ehab: Ok, does it mean you think you are bad or tough.
Me: Nope, just that you like to have bits of metal through your skin.
Ehab: Because on the TV it is just tough people who have them, they have tattoos too.

Various Students: 'So you want to write love poems' class. I asked the students to write a smiley here are some results.

'I love you like my eyes.'

'I miss you like a lost child misses his parents.'

'I need you like I need oxygen.'

'You trap me like being trapped in quicksand.'

'For me, you are like winter for the Sudanese, Like Summer for the English and like peace for the Iraqis.'

'I'm falling for you like falling off a mountain.'

Uni students say the darnest things.

2007-03-24T09:27:00.000+01:00

I really enjoy hearing what the students have to say. But I don't overly enjoy teaching English. I love the opinions, ideas and points of views. Here are some snippets of class conversations paraphrased.

3rd year English: "So, there maybe another Clinton leading the US" class

Me: Do you think women make good world leaders?
Mustaffa: No, women can not ever make good presidents.
Me: *raise eyebrows*
Mustaffa: They don't have the experience in these matters. They do not have good intelligence, they are not made for thinking like men. they do not have the right ability.
Me: *raise eyebrows to the rest of the class*
Intisa: Isn't that what they used to say about black people in America?

Engineering students; "tell me about Sudan" class

Mohammad: Sudan has all sorts of people of all colours from dark black through to pale white.
Me: White like me?
Mohammad: Oh no Miss Rayshell, you are not white.
Me: *raise eyebrows*
Mohammad: you are pink
Me: Ah yes, pink and white and yellow with orange dots.
Mohammad: Yes, what are those things?
Me: Freckles.
Mohammad: *raises eyebrows*

Zoology students: "So what's wrong with Jews anyway" class

Marwa: I think if you was taking this class in Israel and trying to convince them that Arabs are not so bad your students will probably also disagree with you.
Me: I think you might be right
Marwa: Before we had English club I was afraid for talking. I would always take so long to think before I say anything, then it would be so late. Now you say things so wrong so I must talk and it becomes more easy. I think you just make controversy so we talk lot.
(smart girl)

Conversation with my boss at the newspaper:

Boss: Khawaga (foreigner), what is your name?
Me: Rachel.
Boss: Huh?
Me: Rayshell.
Boss: Ah Russia, tell me, how is working here?
Me: Fine thank you.
Boss: *raises eyebrows*
Me: Honestly, it is not the most efficient office I have worked in.
Boss: Why?
Me: Well I spend most of my time checking my email, playing solitaire and using the Internet; and you are paying me to do this.
Boss: Right, I see your point, that's not very good. So do you want us to change that then.
Me: Actually it's fine by me, I just thought you should know.

3rd year English "How are we messing up the Environment" Class

Me: In pairs write a list of all the different products we get from the oil industry. Any Questions?
Abdulla: Yes. What do you call your grandfather's grandfather?
Me: *draws family tree diagram on the board, explains what different people call each other*
Abdalla: So you call this unsest?
Me: Unsest? oh, Incest, no that is when family members have sex.
Abdalla: *raises eyebrows*
Me: *points to a different family members on the diagram* It's if you were to marry your sister or parent, that would be called incest. In my county we extend that to cousins, Aunts and Uncles as well.
Abdalla: *furrows eyebrows together* Uncest? I mean maybe uncesta.
Me: OH, ANcestors, oh sorry, that's different.

Sex: it's not that bad

2007-03-19T16:28:00.000+01:00

I watched Troy on telly last week. We get over 100 satellite channels, 4 are in English and one is a music channel that plays a lot of western music, so we don't do too badly. I missed Troy when it first came out and really wanted to catch it. I have read 'The Oddessy' and was curious to see what happened beforehand, without making the effort of reading another heavy book.

I didn't have high expectations (I had been told it was crap) and the movie met my expectations. There was a scene where Briseis (a pretty girl) makes an attempt to kill Achillies (played by a rather buff Brad Pitt) while he slept, he woke up just in time, grabbing her hand, they looked deeply into each others eyes... then it's was morning.

I watched it on 'Dubai One' a channel from United Arab Emirates so wasn't surprised that the sex scenes were cut out. What got me was how the violence was left in. It is ok to show murder, slaughter, decapitation, massacres, a corpse being dragged behind a chariot... but when it gets to any physical expression of love, passion or romance the editing team get out their scissors to save us from the immorality. So if Briseis was not suddenly captivated by the beautiful Achillies and in his bed made war instead making love then we would have got to see the whole bloody thing, but kissing... oh-no-no, that would be wrong.

Silence of the lambs was full length, I didn't remember any love scenes in Natural born killers so I think I was uncut. But basic instinct was properly about 40 minutes long by the time it was acceptable from Arab television, and I watched Something about Mary which showed Mary on a date but no explanation as to how or why her hair was standing on end.

I miss sex and physical expressions of attraction being acceptable, being normal, being a part of adult life. I miss humans being allowed to acknowledge that they are sexual and loving creatures, I miss seeing people holding hands in the street... sorry, I'll rephrase that, I miss seeing couples holding hands in the street (men are very physically affectionate to each other, which is nice, but it is unacceptable for females or a male and a female to cuddle on the streets in the same way as men do) . I miss the feeling of knowing a body is more than the thing that you carry your head around on.

I asked some Sudanese friends what they think about the movie editing. They all watch their films uncut on pirate DVDs sent from the Gulf by their cousins. They seem to think that it is good for the sex and kissing to be cut out because children shouldn't be watching that sort of thing, it might give them ideas. So of course I asked about the violence... apparently children know that it's only a movie and that violence is wrong. I didn't want to push a point too much, they already think I might be doomed to hell, suggesting that sex is a good thing and killing a bad thing will confirm their beliefs... I don't want them to worry about the future of my soul too much.

It's still hot, but I'm allowed to travel south

2007-03-15T11:25:00.000+01:00

It's quite windy toda, don't think that means it's cooler. I'm sweating in places that i didn't know sweated. I'm discovering shin sweat and elbow sweat and top of the foot sweat... hell even my eyeballs are sweating. That might be a result of the dust that is kicked up by the winds.

I told my students the story about being caught up in the riot at the wrestling. Except, in the version they got, I wasn't face down in the dirt; I was sprinting heroically at the front of the crowd scooping up small children and delivering them to safety (just how I had imagined I would be in that sort of situation). I was expecting my students to marvel at my experience, or at least be awe inspired by the dramatic and animated re-telling of the story. Turns out every one of my students has been caught up in a riot at some point and all have experienced tear-gas. So it was just a case of the weird foreign teacher getting over excited about a mundane occurrence.

So far the red tape is going well. The volunteer programme facilitator fired the last coordinator (I get the feeling he like firing people) and hired a lass called Nuha. She has been three times as efficient as the previous coordinator (and I hear she gets paid a third as much... but that is to be expected given that she is female so even if her abilities are superior she lacks a Y cromozone so is innately inferior, see I'm learning stuff here). Nuha has removed a lot of the anxiety from the process by simply being available and honest. I have been down to the department of humanitarian affairs 4 times. I have spent a lot of my time there siting in small rooms staring at men behind desks who seem to do nothing all day accept staring at each other, and occasionally reading the newspaper. I now have a travel permit, this doesn't mean I'll be able to make it overland... it means I'm allowed to try. Exit and entry visas next. Sorry, traveling can be really dull sometimes.

Introduction to Teargas

2007-03-11T07:55:00.000+01:00

It's getting hotter, the dust more abundant and the balaclavas are disappearing. The smell of the afternoon buses is getting more pungent.

Liam (another volunteer) and I went to see the Nubian wrestling; it is a famous slice of Sudanese culture. In the stadium we were directed to sit with the Khartoum wrestling team, foreigners are often given preferential treatment. This prime position was brilliant, the atmosphere was wonderful, our team was had just won their fourth match out of five. There was a lot of dancing and cheering and the mood was joyful. Liam has pretty good Arabic so I was enjoying the luxury of not having to talk or think.

For what happened next I can only give a limited perspective of a short lass surrounded by rather tall African wrestlers. It appeared that one or two men entered the wrestling circle, followed by the police who took to beating him with long sticks. I don't think the police have heard of Rodney King here, so perhaps thought it was a good idea for three police officers to beat one man with sticks in the middle of a stadium of hundreds of people. Some of those people got annoyed, more of the audience moved into the circle followed by more police. This was all happening over the opposite side of the stadium to me. We were all standing to get a better view, it appeared that things could turn very violent, but curiosity was stronger than self preservation.

The wrestlers were constantly keeping an eye on us, making sure we were safe and out of harms way. Action was quickly escalating the stadium, more people were joining the moving tangle of bodies in the centre, and I could see chairs and canes being swung in the air. Liam saw a riot van entering and chairs were thrown in its direction. The tension was escalating fast. It was only about 15 minutes from when the first person entered the circle.

Bang! Bang! Bang! I thought the police were firing gunshots into the air. The crowd surged towards the canvas barriers of the stadium Liam was in front of the crowd being squashed against the canvas until it collapsed or ripped. I was pushed over and fell face down in the dirt. A man behind me instantly sheltered me then grabbed my hand to assist me out of the stadium. Liam was waiting for me. The shots fired were teargas. There was no choice but to run, It actually started as a kind of civilised jog then the effects of the teargas set in: eyes welling up nose dribbling and lungs gasping for air. I have never experienced teargas before; I had not anticipated the pain in the throat and the restrictions on breathing. Last year Liam volunteered in Palestine, and has been caught in teargas before. Apparently if you break open an onion and inhale deeply it counteracts the effects of the teargas... but I wasn't carrying an onion on me that day.

Wheezing and spitting, we ran past a family standing at their front gate watching the commotion, they saw us and invited us into their home. We sat with these lovely people for an hour and a half while the sirens outside died down and we recovered from the teargas. They offered us water, sweets and shisha. Liam converted his easy banter into Arabic and may have sold me to the son... I'm not sure, but I think he negotiated a good price.

My experience of the riot was obviously not a negative experience. I thought the police were fast and effective, they acted decisively. The teargas was horrible to be caught up in, but it did its job: it cleared the crowd fast and it prevented what could have been a disaster. The Sudanese people I encountered showed a kindness to strangers that I have never experienced in any other country. Of course the man who was beaten by the police will have a completely different experience of the same event. I'm glad my side of the stadium was the calm side. This is not normal for a night at the wrestling.

I leave next month. I plan to go down to Uganda in whatever way is cheap, practical and safe. I prefer to travel overland and have been getting mixed information from "impossible, there are no roads" to "It's easy, my grandmother makes that trip." Where I intend to travel my travel guides don't cover, so I'm downloading UN maps and getting as much info as I can while I'm here and connected.

Before I even set a foot south I need all the paperwork: visas for Uganda, Exit visa for Sudan, travel permits for southern Sudan. I have (by chance) met the Ugandan ambassador and been to where they issue the travel permits, all my questions were answered positively. My main hold up is getting the right paperwork through the volunteer programme. I'm very anxious about that. The facilitator has already started making fuss about how impossible it is to get permits. so I'm going to avoid going though them wherever possible, I don't need the drama.

There is Hope

2007-02-25T16:09:00.000+01:00

This is the third time I’m writing this… Third! It’s not even that interesting; it’s one of those general mumblings but the last two times I wrote this there was a power cut. So I’m writing in Word now... and not appreciating the green and red squiggly lines hindering my grammatical creativity. Ok pointing out my bad spelling.

I met up with the Canadian UN Envoy who I don’t think is in the UN or an Envoy (I think he works an adviser to the UN in issues of disarmament) but I can confirm he is Canadian. He introduced me to two of his workmates. They talked shop a lot. Masses of information on rebel groups, NGOs, tribes, weapons, militant forces and motives all wafted above my head. I listened and tried to keep up but really had nothing to add to the conversation except when it targeted down to topics like Britney’s hair or toilets.

I learnt a lot. I found out that one of the biggest and most powerful NGOs is the NRA (national rifle association, in NGO speak there is a hell of a lot of TLA – three letter acronyms) The NRA have a rep on the UN and they are one of the first NGOs to move into volatile areas and work for peoples God given rights to carry arms. It’s all such a big mess.

After asking if there was any good news, I got a few lovely stories of hope beautifully told by a man from Uruguay whose job it is to find something to do with all the soldiers left over from the Sudanese civil war (so they don’t form militant groups).

I think I managed to catch most of the story. He said that there were two warring tribes in the south of Sudan, the Dinka and the Nuir. The women from both sides, sick of their men dieing, got together and agreed to withhold sex until there was peace between them. They even got the prostitutes to strike. The men started talking to each other realising they had a common problem, and held a meeting, an agreement was reached and the fighting stopped. How’s that for conflict resolution.

The guys have given me some good advice on leaving Sudan. I had planned to cross at the safest land border which is Ethiopia, they suggest not doing that because the Ethiopian/Kenyan border is too dodgy. So I’m going to head directly south to Uganda. It means stopping at Juba the capital of South Sudan where there are so many NGOs working there that the house prices have been pushed higher than London. It’s unlikely to find a place to stay for under 80usd per night. I’m going to have to make a friend in Juba before I leave Khartoum.

I have started a myspace page (www.myspace.com/youngcrone... you properly could have guessed that one) I had hopped to use the instant message function to talk to Missy. I’m a bit of a novice at this and I think I’d have to download it first… not so easy in a third world internet café (that should be an oxymoron). I have wasted hours with failed attempts to make my page look good (I’ve settled with plain) I placed photos and quotes, and even made a wee slideshow. I now log into 4 different websites when I sit down at a screen.

So through myspace I have been able to catch up with people I haven’t seen for ages and people who exist in a world that I left. It kind of feels like a step back into Scotland, and kind of like a step backwards. I can see myself deserting it the way I did with my Gmail account. It’s a retreat into an insular world of my memory. It’s escapism. In a strange was it’s also bought back a wee part of the negative stuff too.

Remember when I left Scotland I spoke of a heartbreak and then didn’t mention it again. Well just because I haven’t mentioned it doesn’t mean it’s healed. The myspace step backwards has made me realise that maintaining email contact (no matter how funny or warm or reassuring or witty or delightful) keeps me trapped in a continuous cycle of emotions. As long as I stay in touch while I still care I’ll be nagged with pain and distrust and doubt. So after getting this perspective from my tarot cards I have decided to stop contact. Yesterday I wrote an email in the past tense. It’s taken me 30 years to get my heart broken and 6 months to get to grips with it. But I think I’ve got there finally.

Salami, Shuffle and Strappy heels.

2007-02-18T10:52:00.000+01:00

I'm healthy again. I'm not going to enter the Olympics but I can walk, I'm getting over the flu and the random collection of insect bites and stings are slowly fading back into normal looking skin. Awesome.

Also loads of great things have happened. I was just choosing to ignore them before and focus on the crap. Sorry bout that.

Anna's husband James arrived a few days ago, he's here for two weeks. Francis (Anna's son who was visiting last month) loaded him down with salami, pepperami, pepperoni, good chocolates and other luxuries that just can't be bought here. So it could be seen that James (a vicar) became a mule for smuggling pork products into an Islamic state just so we can enjoy really great sandwiches. Brilliant.

Francis also added a wee gift just for me. A really small gift... a tiny (about 2x3cm) hot pink, Ipod shuffle mp3 player. ohmygosh. an IPOD SHUFFLE! what did I do to deserve this? So I have it currently hooked up to Rinee's computer to charge up. I found on her computer a music folder titled "big fat funky mix" from Angus, the same guy who gave me the phrase "sweating like a chimp in a gimp suit". (Actually Francis also gave me the phrase "sweating like a blind lesbian in a fish shop". there is a lot of opportunities to have sweating smileys here.) So soon I'll be smoking my shisha listening to a big fat funky mix on my brand new ipod shuffle. Wicked.

On Saturday I was hanging out a Rinee's place making masquerade ball masks for a US/UK embassy staff ball she had managed to get tickets to. Then Rosa (who was accompanying Rinee) called to say that she wasn't going and that if I wanted her (100 usd) ticket I was welcome to it. Hell yes! Fantastic.

There was a little bit of a maria-from-the-sound-of-music moment was a beautiful teal curtain was transformed into a sari and a gift bag into a mask. With a small cosmetic shop of make up and a kilo or so of jewelery everything was perfect. Rinee looked stunning in a sliver outfit she had bought over from England. The ball was fantastic. It was like we were not in Sudan. there was alcohol and high heels (my flip-flops were mostly hidden under my sari). wine, dancing, food, people with very long job titles... and the the question lingering in my mind... when these people packed to live in Sudan at what point did they decided to throw in a Venetian mask, a tuxedo or a pair of strappy heels? and what kind of baggage allowance do these people have?

Chatted to loads of NGO and Embassy workers. I have a coffee date on Tuesday with a Canadian UN envoy who is currently in Dafur. I'll keep you posted.

Still Complaining

2007-02-15T08:39:00.000+01:00

My health hasn't improved that much, I now have the flu to join everything else. I have a tiny bee sting under one toe. I have a ant bite on my butt. The mosquitoes have increased. The blisters on my pink bits are taking their sweet time to heal (as long as I'm sitting I'm ok but walking brings tears to my eyes, literally) and despite sending out loads of valentines over the past few years, this year I got none (admittedly I sent none too)... yes I'm wading through a deep murky swamp of self pity and I know it.

So I thought I'd give you a different perspective. Some of the other volunteers write blogs and journals. Here are three:

Brad and Emily a lovely couple who arrived last month (Hi, by the way, to Emily's sister Kat). They also have a blog spot but theirs has more (and better) photos and video footage...yay. You get to see one of the market/bus stations. they also write more regularly : http://zigawatt.blogspot.com/

Rosa blogs sporadically like me, she has also been here since November and we often hang out together. She is having a party at her house tonight : http://rosas-place.blogspot.com/

And Kasia is a new volunteer, she's a Polish American (who denys the American bit but who wouldn't) and she writes for an online Christian journal : www.liveasif.org/view.cgi?type=w&list=20060911002 . No, she has not come here to convert anyone, and yes I did ask her.

So three totally different perspectives of similar experiences.

Too much information

2007-02-10T14:29:00.000+01:00

I have searched for a soft, sensitive, socially acceptable way of expressing my minor medical issue, but at the moment I seem only able to find slang.

I had a few, erm, warts turn up where the sun don't shine. I went to a doctor and got rid of them the Sudanese way: they were burnt off my family jewels with what appeared to be a primitive version of a soldering iron. My steak curtains look like a pub ashtray and I'm walking like a cowboy. I'm sure there is a politer way of saying that, just can't find it right now.

I had an occurrence of witch spots on my cabbage leaves about 4 years ago when I first got to Scotland. I simply hauled myself down to the GUM clinic. a doctor zapped me with some sort of chemical gave me a prescription for ointment and that was that. done. finished. sorted. over.

Here, well things are a bit different in Sudan. I spent 3 weeks in and out of pharmacies that tried to import podophyclic solution to take to a doctor (you know, I would have attempted burning them off myself) . no luck. then resigned myself to seeing a doctor I spent 2 weeks trying to get paid from the newspaper, they finally paid me 2 weeks wages (they still owe me 2 more). Some days you need the patience of mother Theresa, the tolerance of Martin Luther King Jr, the persistence of Gandhi and the resolve of Hercules... pity I'm none of those.

(don't read the next paragraph if you are squeamish... that means you mum)

Long story short: It was simple operation (I was quite happy). The Dr prepared local anaesthetic (I was slightly concerned). He bought out an electronic contraption circa 70s from a cupboard of dirt, assorted medicine, paper, cutlery, dust, plastic flowers and grime (I was sweating like a chimp in a gimp suit) . The frayed wires attached to a long heated metal skewer. I asked him to mind the piercing (electric equipment here is not earthed). It took 30 minutes. I had 9 small injections of local. Nevertheless it hurt like a hot poker a in an axe wound, Vile smell (a smell I had smelt once before, in my parents garage, after my brother had used a blow torch to remove the hair from a pig he had shot). Crackling sound. And finally, now, burnt flesh on the bog roll. Nuff said.

This could have been a horrific ordeal, but it wasn't. the doctor may have given me permanent physical scars, but he was personable. He was nice. He spoke to me like a human, and not a breathing corpse. And that made all the difference. It's only been 2 days, all's healing well, though I'm not going camel riding any time soon.

I have worked in the world of STIs and believe that they are often spread through silence, denial and embarrassment. Yet for the past couple of months that I have been dealing with this I have remained quiet. It is only now that I sit on the charred blistered remains of my quim that I feel comfortable about it. Despite the fact I'm slightly maimed and in a bit of pain, now that I'm cured it's a story not a problem. Everything is better in retrospect.

Sudan For Dummies

2007-02-04T15:49:00.000+01:00

Not much is going on. Anna's son Francis has gone back to the UK after his two week holiday... and now there is a void of hot tea at the flat without his constant supply of the stuff. Before he left he bought me a little shisha of my own, it's lovely, I smoke rose, apple, mint and peach flavoured tobacco. For Francis' birthday I made him a blog site and put up a pile of pictures of his visit (I still have a few more to go up) it's http://www.franinsudan.blogspot.com/ .

Anna's husband will be arriving in a couple of weeks. Anna really is getting a lot of visitors for someone living in the third world. Popular lass.

So I've been here for a while so I thought it was about time to tell you about Sudan. Partly my impressions, partly what I have read from guidebooks and partly the opinions of others that I shall present as my own to make myself look more worldly.

Ancient Sudanese history seems to be dominated by the Nubia who predate the Egyptian Pharaohs. Things got intertwined a lot and sovereignty bounced around a bit over the centuries between the Kush and independent christian kingdoms. Some people build some pyramids. I never said that I was going to give you a accurate or detailed account did I.

In the 14th Century the Turkish rulers came down from Egypt and established Islam.

In the 19th Century the Brits got their foot in the door and re-introduced Christianity. This annoyed the locals who by this time were quite happy with the Turkish ways and with Islam. In 1881 the Mahdists expressed this annoyance by leading a revolution and killing the British appointed Governor General Gordon. Lord Kitchener then defeated the Mahdists and made Sudan a British colony (1898) Throughout all this was the Slave trade, one of Sudan's most formative industries.

I think was during this time of British rule that the lines were drawn that define the boundaries of Sudan. These lines were not drawn by changes in cultures, people, religion nor geography. They are decisions made by non-Africans that determined where one country ends and another begins.

By the time the British left in 1956 the civil war between the North and South had already started. Western media (and christian aid groups) love to over simplify this as being Arab Muslims vs Black Christians. Complexities of economic, social, political, tribal, ethnic and religious forces all play their part.

Sudan is about 70% Sunni Muslim, 5% Christian and 25% traditional religions. It's only about 40% Arab and has 19 ethnic groups. I have met people with black skin, flat noses and curly hair who call themselves Arab. I have met people with pointy noses fair skin and wavy hair who call themselves black African. I have also met families that have a huge, mixed up variety of features in the same family. Sudan is incredibly diverse and totally mixed. It is known as the Africa inside of Africa.

Sudan is Huge, really massive, almost the size of western Europe. I have been told it is the largest county in Africa, though looking at a map, Algeria and Congo can't be that far off. The top bit is a great big sandpit and the bottom bit is tropical. It's flat as a pancake and broken by the Nile that joins in Khartoum. Sudan has 9 neighbours, and seems to have had (or is having) disputes with all of them.

The civil war ended, and Sudan was pretty relaxed and liberal. Then it started again in 1983 when the government introduced Sharia law. That's Muslim law. Two years ago the civil war ended again, and things have been pretty Ok. Of course the whole Darfur thing has kicked off. but that's another story... when I can get my head around it a bit more.

The best thing about Sudan is the people. And I know I really sound like a patronising imperialist wanker when I say that, but it's true. The people have a resilience, genuineness, openness and generosity that I have never before encountered. It's not to say that the slowness, disorganisation and lower standards of expectation isn't frustrating sometimes. It's just that the people out weigh it.

So them's the basics.

Rosie

2007-01-24T18:10:00.000+01:00

I was just thinking about that last post and I got to thinking about a brilliant burlesque-cabaret-vampire-S&M-lesbian-comedian that I worked with (at the Golden Lotus Bump and Grind in Newcastle) who inspired me. her name is Rosie Lugosi: www.rosielugosi.com

Rosie lived and taught in Sudan for two years... maybe all that repressing, suppressing and censorship helped her to really embrace the extremes of those fantastic freedoms that I have happily and complacently taken for granted till now. Or maybe she's just cool.

Teflon Lifestyle

2007-01-24T16:55:00.000+01:00

Last week 1000 or so people died in South Sudan from Meningitis and another unidentified illness. Today a Sudan Airlines flight was hijacked in Chad. If these things were not reported in BBC, I would have no idea they were happening.

Anna's son Francis is visiting, He's been here a week and a half and leaves this Sunday. He's ace. We went with a group back up to the Pyramids, this time we camped overnight. Awesome trip out of the city despite waking up to sandblasting winds... now I know what frosted glass goes through. It's great to be a tour guide again. There is nothing like seeing your home through somebody else's eyes.

Themes of politeness, censorship (or restraint) and value still keep popping up in conversation and life. A strange incident last week got me thinking again. Anna and I had a party (to say goodbye to the coordinator who has quit - after being fired, to welcome three new volunteers and two new British council workers, to welcome Francis and just for the fun of it). a couple of the guests took offence to a Sudanese men's hat that was upside down on the ceiling (placed there by the previous occupants to hide ugly wires). I took great offence to people who don't live in my house deciding to take it down, not only without asking, but against my vocal objection to re-arrange my living room ... which also happens to be my bedroom. It was not my hat, it was not my decision to put it there but it was my space goddamit.

I think the reason why this stupid and not overly noteworthy action got to me in a tizz so much was because I feel I need to adapt so much to live here. I'm not just a westerner living in Sudan, I'm bisexual, pagan, non-virgin, wiccan, female, extroverted, dancing, polytheistic, tattooed, pierced, left wing, outspoken, freckled, unmarried, westerner living in Afro-Arab Muslim male controlled Sudan. I have to alter what I wear, what I say, how I think, how I behave, everything. Of course I do and this is why I came. But rewarding as it is, it is hard work. So I like to think of my home as my own personal Embassy (The Embassy of the Democratic Socialist Republic of Anchel). In my home I like to think I'm on my land, where I can just let my knees and shoulders and thoughts and beliefs and self expression all hang out. The one place that I'm not judged by Sudanese standards.

I was going to put the hat back up to reassert my right to maintain my small slice of the world (yes, I am a control freak, but you already knew that). However this morning I noted that Anna was using the hat as a jewelry box in her room. Ah, lateral thinking for the uses of local fashion in ones personal space wins. Goddess bless Anchel.

Ever since I got my passport back I feel I have my freedom, safety and security back. It makes me miles more comfortable. It's just a weight off my shoulders that are currently decently covered.

GOT MY PASSPORT BACK!

2007-01-09T10:43:00.000+01:00

After 2.5 months of uncertainty I finally have back my passport. In it is a residency permit. I slept comfortably last night, with a wee smile in my face.

I also have a phone, after 2 months, Missy's phone has reached me, so I'll sort out a sim card today.

ah.

A Happy New Years

2007-01-07T15:32:00.000+01:00

Happy New Years to you.

First the wedding. Anna and I attended part of a double Sudanese wedding (it was the son and daughter of the sister of the grandmother of one of my students... family is pretty tight here) . A wedding here is normally 3 days long with different ceremonies. The ceremony we attended was the bridal dance (the bride was marrying the son of the of the sister of my students grandmother). In a tent of about 600 females the groom (the only male in the room) is treated to a sensual dance by his soon-to-be wife. No photography was allowed but on http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RFPOP_1ANuk you can get an idea of the type of thing. Interesting to watch, although the groom didn't seem as interested as he should be, he was chatting to members of the audience. apparently the official wedding had been in a registry office a month before. The other bride (pictured) did not do the dance... her groom was in Kenya, apparently the groom is not totally necessary in a Sudanese wedding.

(After looking for the Sudanese wedding dance clip I appeased my ego by doing a search on you tube for 'foxy rouge', my ego enjoyed the 3 clips that came up.)

The day after the wedding dance I set off with Tim, Matt and Liam to a town called Atbara about 4 hours north. There we were greeted by Christopher, another volunteer who had been living there for about a month and had integrated very well. His Arabic is coming along beautifully. He had lined up a full itinerary of visits to the homes of a variety of lovely, welcoming and generous people he had met. we arrived the just before the first day of Eid, a 10 day holiday where sheep are slaughtered.

I'm a bit odd. well you know that already, but here I'm even more odd. I'm female and getting on a bit, but I'm not married and for some reason am not at home. So I'm not quite a woman, but not quite a man. Even things like greeting can get a bit messed up with my presence. To greet a friend of your own gender generally you touch your right hand to their left shoulder before shaking hands. In most cases I was an honorary man but particularly with the older generation there was often an iffy moment of hand-or-shoulder decision making. I discovered it was better just to get in there first and give their shoulder a tap before they thought about it to much.

Women and men eat separately. I was fortunate enough to be able to spend time in both worlds. I got to help the women prepare the freshly slaughtered meat and also sit with the men watching the news of Sadam's execution (not a huge reaction from the Sudanese people I know, they don't seem to feel it effects them directly, there is a general over-all resentment to USA and a few have commented that Sadam was the only one who could hold Iraq together, and the war has killed more that Sadam). We also watched the Haijj on Saudi TV this is the pilgrimage to Mecca.

I ate so much. Guests are treated like royalty and given only the best part of the sheep... the tendons at the backs of the calves, the liver and from the calamari shape and texture what must have been part of the intestine. I ate it all, and smiled.

The lads bought the local dress for the occasion. I wore my usual black skirt and top but was given a tobe (Sudanese sari, about half the length and twice as difficult to wear as the Indian sari) . I was also given jewelry, perfume ("silence for men"... I wonder if there was a hidden message in that) and masses of attention from the local woman. All a bit over whelming to be honest, but in a good sense.

New Years we saw in a small room packed with a family of about 20 and us 5 foreigners playing chamber games involving singing nursery rhymes and making speeches. It was miles away in every sense from the debauched party that saw in 2006 in Montreal only a year ago. Actually this time last year I was wandering through gorges in upstate new York... Fuck. When the clock struck 12 nobody noticed (in Sudan time is not a priory) but when someone did notice it was enthusiastic handshakes all round and singing 'happy birthday'. The happy birthday could be because the first of January is Sudanese Independence day. It was really wonderful and a rare opportunity for both our hosts and us, I think it was obvious how much we valued it.

Returned to Khartoum for a couple of days then when with Anna down to Kosti, a wee town about 4 hours South. When I say four hours I mean that is how long it would take if there were no stops. times normally are 5-7 hours. I think most of the stops are to allow the engine to cool down or make repairs. Not much to do in Kosti except to watch the White Nile cruise by and smoke Shisha which is what Anna and I did. We stayed in a Lokanda which is kind of like a half-way house for old men. Being inconvenient western women we got own own room, but we shared the shower (a room with a bucket in it that could be filled from a tap outside) and the toilet. my camera battery charger has died so I can't take photos till I sort that out, be happy for that, the loo really was pretty gross.

I got mildly ill twice. First as a result from taking 'soud' a type of tobacco that is rolled into a ball and place under the lip. it was a huge hit of nicotine that left me dizzy and nauseous for about 15 minutes then spacey for the following hour. It is the favoured drug of old men here, I'm not sold on it. The other illness was also self induced: intense belly pain that slowly moved around throughout one night. I spent a lot of time crouching outside expecting to vomit and more time rocking by the toilet expecting the runs. It was neither. It was trapped wind. I have never had that before. Unable to pop out to the local boots and pick up a pack of windeze I relived the pain by doing a shoulder stand for 10-15 mins. sore back, eased gut.
I hope you had a good one.

People

2006-12-26T15:09:00.000+01:00

I was just about to tell you about my New Years and realised that I have not told you about some other the people who I share my life with here. So here you go:

The Old Girls of East Khartoum;

Anna: my flatmate, I was quietly fearing what life would be like when I was told I was going to share a one bedroom flat with a 59 year old vicars wife and mother of 4. But Anna is a fantastic flatmate. She has helped me so much, from showing me the buses to finding cheese. Anna works at the same University as me.

Rosa: An Australian volunteer. She has the most positive outlook and keeps us all laughing. She stays a few blocks walk from Anna and I. It was Rosa who organised the pyramids trip.

Maryanne and Reeni: Canadian and Brit. Two teachers who work at the British council (Maryanne is currently teaching SPLM soldiers), they live about 500m from Anna and myself. Both very funny, easygoing and incredibly helpful.

The West side Boys:

Matt and Liam: both volunteers who live in Omdurman slightly North West of Khartoum. Matt (despite British accent, education and manner) is American and seems to have magnetic charm for pretty Sudanese girls. Liam is a brilliantly witty Brit who constantly beats me at chess. Both lads have adapted to the Sudanese way of life well, learning the language with admirable dedication, smoking shisha and eating fool daily.

Christopher: the most integrated of us all. when I met Christopher two months ago her seemed like a lovely English gentleman. Now he has moved 4 hours north of Khartoum and become a lovely Arab gentleman.
Others:

Mohammad: coordinator for the programme

Joanna: Volunteer who lives with Liam and Matt, just arrived but this is her second time here.

Nick: lives in the centre of town, an Aussie with a knack for knowing everyone and being everywhere important.

Hiba: My favorite student, perfect English and lovely family.

Tim: German Anthropology student doing research and hanging out with the lads here.

There are of course many more, but it takes time to meet and get to know people.

Anna's husband emails her a new joke every single day from England so she always has a joke to share. The best one so far this week: A Spaniard and a Sudanese were talking about their language, the Spaniard asked the Sudanese if they had any word in Sudanese Arabic that was like the Spanish "mañana". The Sudanese thought about it for a while then said "Yeah we do, but it doesn't have that same sense of urgency."

Holiday Season

2006-12-19T11:08:00.000+01:00

I have just changed email addresses. (it's the same as before but I have moved from lycos to myway.com) I had the lycos address for 10 years which is longer than I have ever had a snail mail address. 10 years of collecting email addresses really added up. Far to many names I could not recognise and nicknames that offered no explanation like 'don-det farie' and 'pretty-eyes'. But I have finally moved now and so far have no spam.

Talking about emails thank you all for your lovely emails. Obviously I have been having a stressful time at the moment dealing with the kinds of challenges I knew I would end up facing but not quite knowing how to deal with it when it comes. Your comments have really, really made a difference.

Yesterday was the 25th of December. (I think I cover all bases when I say Blessed Yule, Happy New Year, Merry Christmas, Happy Hogmanay, Seasons Greetings, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa and a Wonderful Eid to you) It is an national holiday here since a peace agreement was signed between the mostly Christian South and the mostly Muslim North. Khartoum is in the north so It's just a day off. A group of us volunteers went on a day trip to seen Sudan's pyramids. So good to get out. We don't need travel permits to travel directly north so I intend to go back in that same direction in the next few days.

I have a wedding to attend here on Wednesday and Thursday (I think it is the brother in law of the aunt of one of my students... can't wait). After the 31st everything shuts down till the 7th of January for Eid; a festival that celebrated the day Allah asked Abraham to kill his son and just as he was about to, then Allah said thanks for your devotion but you really don't need to do that just kill me a sheep instead (I'm paraphrasing). Each family slaughters their own sheep and eats it, there are flocks of sheep dotted throughout the city waiting to be sold.

I have decided to take photos and upload them despite having no permit. So I'll get more up later, but for now here are two of the pyramids. You will notice that I live in a rather sandy part of the world. Khartoum is on the southern edge of the Sahara Desert. It is dry and dusty here. the sand and dirt and grit and dust and filth come in a surprising variety of forms but it's always present, everywhere.

Today I was defrosting my freezer with one half of a broken pair of scissors and managed to puncher a hole in a pipe that released gas. I have jammed a plastic bag into the ice to stop the gas leak. Fortunately I did a class on climate change recently and learnt that African fridges will still use CFCs till 2010 (fortunate that I did the class not fortunate that Africa still used CFCs) and the gas is stable, not flammable, and breathable (crap for the ozone, but at least Anna and I don't have to evacuate). So the fridge is broken, and as the ice melts the plastic bag will slide away. The landlady (our next door neighbour) has arranged for an electrician to come tomorrow to sort it out.

Sortin' it out and makin' it work.

2006-12-19T10:01:00.000+01:00

I didn't get this far to give up. Fired or not I believe that what I'm doing here is important. Sure I am teaching the grown children of the Sudanese elite, the ones who will possibly become part of future problems... but they can also be part of Sudan's solution.

There is a problem with volunteer work (and this includes doing free burlesque gigs, and even applies to relationships) : if you offer something for free or for too cheap it isn't appreciated, it loses value and without value it becomes disposable. But the students themselves know the importance English will play in their future and the rarity of finding a native speaker who will give them time. Many of the faculty of arts students don't bother to show up for classes, but many, many more from other departments beg me to just help them practice speaking and listening. So I invite them along to my smaller classes.

Sorting out understanding:
I will always be a foreigner here. I don't think I'll ever get it. There are some things that I don't have to understand, but I do need to accept. It appears to be difficult for a Sudanese to say "I don't know" I have noticed this in my classes a lot. And it also seems to be difficult to give someone bad news, better just to give an answer to a different question. I have never intended to cause offence, but of course I will when I have no idea what is offencive. Like, for example, it is offencive to offer you seat on a full bus to an old man with a walking stick... because maybe this tells him that he is so feeble that even a weak female thinks he can't even stand by himself. The line between disrespectful and respectful had changed and I don't know where it is anymore.

Sorting out feeling safe here:
I can't rely on the program to help me if I need it. But I can rely on others. Anna has taken me to the British Embassy and I have been able to register with them by emailing a scan of my passport (thank goodness for forethought). We have made contact with out local area warden. So if the president decided to kick out all foreigners, if I get sick, if a student demonstration goes bad or if the US decides to bomb another factory, I know of places to go and people who can help. I have also been offered support from one of my student's families, and newspaper staff. Normally I'm content to flutter about a country without insurance. But Sudan is different, things can happen.

Sorting out feeling happy here:
In a couple of weeks the Visa process should be though. Governmental things change all the time. Now the coordinator (I think unwilling to have to be the messenger who has to fire me again) tells me the bad news (instead of making it all seem like things are happening when they are not). Unfortunately we probably won't have the passports back before Christmas when we all have a day off and were hoping to travel north to see the Sudanese pyramids, I think we might be able to do it with just photocopies of the front pages, but knowing this we can work around it. Also I may not have the Visa before the Eid holidays after new years, I think it is my only long holiday while working here and I was planning to visit the Red Sea, but knowing that it might not be possible means I can think of alternative ideas. The coordinator has promised to personally hand me my passport when this is complete. When I get that back I'll feel secure and I won't have any reason to have to deal with the programme management anymore. I will be able to sleep sound and I can just get on with my work.

Sorting out Sudanese cultural understanding:
Today's lesson warmer is going to be on answering questions. first I'll teach them "I don't know" and ask the each a question they don't know like "what is my middle name?". It's absolutely fine to not know, nobody knows everything. Then I'll teach Verb-Noun questions (do you, is it etc) require yes/no answers. Then I'll build up to 'WH' questions in which 'where' needs a place and 'when' needs a time. So while I adjust to the rest of the country at least the 12 young people that I have in my class today will gain a slight understanding to how to communicate with us up-tight foreigners effectively.

Everything has changed

2006-12-16T12:38:00.000+01:00

After a month and a half of asking what is going on with my passport and Visa application and receiving evasive, patronising, and conflicting answers, I finally got sick of it. I sent and abrupt email to the Sudanese facilitator and the Sudanese coordinator demanding some clarification. I quoted the false information I had received. If they can't get the little things right what else are they getting wrong? I have been literally losing sleep over the lack of efficiency with the programme management. It's a stark contrast to the application process.

I got a message to go onto the office to speak to the facilitator. Great! Finally someone will actually talk to me about what's happening.

I got fired.

The coordinator sat me down and informed me that I was no longer wanted in the volunteer programme. He said that they will stop my 6 month Visa application and get me an exit Visa instead.

I was shocked, this was on Thursday, I'm still shocked.

So I was fired for asking to many questions? Apparently I had insulted the facilitator. He did not take kindly to my email (I had in fact in the email said something he told me was "utter rubbish" because it was utter rubbish).

The facilitator came into the office and started yelling at me. I was already upset and in tears. But I still shouted back.

I had behaved badly (authoritarian state, don't ever ask questions)

I had accused them of lying (yes: they had given false information, why)

I had insulted them by suggesting they didn't know what they were doing (if they knew what they were doing then why couldn't they tell me what they were doing with MY LIFE)

They work really hard for us for no money (I work really hard for them for no money)

The Sudanese ministries take a long time (so because they are inefficient and disorganised everyone is allowed to be)

I have negatively influenced 2 other volunteers (women can't think for themselves)

I am impatient and have no tolerance (month and a half to give a logical answer)

He said 'I got you here!" I said "No. I got me here!"

I found it difficult to maintain clear logical arguments when my eyes ere red with tears, my nose running and my voice warbling and squeaking.

Totally horrible experience The facilitator needed to exert dominance so despite shouting back I remained seated while he stood over me yelling. When he was done, he told the coordinator to copy the document he had told me I could collect the week before, and the the coordinator for the first time told me exactly when I could expect to get my passport back (not for another week at least, this means I may not have it in time to apply for travel permits before the holidays, but there s still a chance).

So I was apparently re-hired about 20 minutes after being fired, no apology. I don't feel re-hired. I feel like the facilitator is giving me the wonderful privilege of working for him (for free) despite being a very naughty girl. I didn't to come here to work FOR anyone, I came here to work WITH people I thought I could be useful too.

Firing someone is a last resort, not something to be done so lightly or flippantly especially when it is more than losing a job: it is losing a home, a life, and a place in a country.

It probable comes down to culture: a (shamefully) single, (ignorantly) young, (vile) heathen (inferior) female questions a (decently) married, (wisely) old, (good) Muslim (superior) male. And when the answers just didn't make sense she (outrageously) got annoyed and (shockingly) vocalised it.

I have been teaching my students to have faith in their opinions, to seek understanding if they don't know. I tell them that they have the choice not to be ignorant and the right to be heard. I want them to have the confidence to challenge status quo and to come to their own conclusions rather accepting blindly what they have been told.

I like Sudan, I like the University, I really like my students, I adore the openness of the people and I love the community of volunteers who help each other out. I work hard and I have sacrificed at lot of time, money and energy to be here and make it work.

But I no longer have any trust in the programme. It turns out that I am disposable. I can not base my life on the temperament of a tender ego. The programme was supposed to be the support, the safety net, the people who help. Not a source of insecurity. It is like the bottom has been pulled out.

Before being fired I was so committed, reliable, loyal. I have tenacity and resolve (but not blind faith). I heard of other volunteers who had left the programme for paid NGO jobs before their volunteer contract had finished. I thought that was horrible, now that I know I can be fired so easily my dedication is only to myself.

My poor passport

2006-12-05T16:55:00.000+01:00

My latest problem here is that I still don't have a Visa or my passport. The volunteer coordinator here insists I am legal as they have a copy of my Visa application form, but that is not a Visa - it is a Visa application from. I had a Visa, it expired on November 15th.

I keep asking them what is going on, and I get different information each time, also all the other volunteers have different information. I appear to be the person most attached to their passport and the one most stressed out about not having a Visa. Also, some of the information I know to be untrue, like today they said I had been registered with an authority since I arrived... except my passport didn't go near the registration until I was here for over a week.

And now, to totally stress me out... I have been told that I will not get my passport back until I leave. I have told them that I do not consent to this. my passport is property of the NZ government and my responsibility. I refuse to have it kept from me. I think they deem it safer: it is my passport and where my passport is to be kept is between me and the NZ government, no one else. How dare they confiscate it, how dare they think they have the right ot keep it for whatever reason.

I'm cheesed off... mmm cheese, cheese here is processed, comes in tins, or is strong white feta.

I can't get my passport until I have that Visa. I feel trapped by the red-tape. Once I have my passport showing legitimate status I'll be able to get a photo permit and apply to travel to the pyramids and to the Red Sea during the holidays (January).

In other news everything else if fine. My new flatmate Anna is great to live with, and dinner party invites are starting to roll in from Sudanese and Expats alike.

day-to-day life

2006-11-30T10:07:00.000+01:00

There is quite a discussion going on in the comments from the 'Winter' post below about FGM. Just thought I'd mention it if you are interested.

So my life seems to have already slipped into a comfortable routine. I work 6 days, in Sudan the weekend is only Friday. I only work 2-4 hours a day and almost all my classes start at 2pm. I have one on Thursdays that starts at 8am just to keep me on my toes. On Monday and Wednesday nights from 5pm-10pm I proof read for the newspaper. I'm slowly starting to get to know the people at the newspaper. they call me "Russia" which I rather like, or "Rayshell" which is easier to pronounce, and those who speak french call me "Rachelle".

I have a lot of students, about 100, they seem to come and go to and from random classes. The largest class I have taught was only about 30 students. sometimes I have only 3. I still struggle with the names the typical Mathew, Mark and John (English, in Scots that would be: Andrew, Robert and David) is Mustafa, Alshareef and Mohammad. I Like the students and really learn a lot from them. That is a really great thing about leading discussion classes.

Anna (another volunteer) is moving into my house. I was just beginning to really enjoy living alone. it is a one bedroom apartment, but I have already claimed a corner of the lounge. I prefer the lounge as I get a good breeze from the balcony. The bedroom has no windows. I now have Television, satellite, Several English channels like BBC world and NBC 2 that screens back-to-back movies. Luxury. I think it will be fun to live with Anna, good to have the company.

My front door has a large metal grill across it which I lock with a padlock when I go out.

On Fridays I try to do something touristy. last week I went to see a Sufi ritual. There are German, French and Greek cultural centres here and the British council that has a library. It is a city that had been effected by all the humanitian and aid workers here. this is why there are so many things catering for westerners. There is even a German Club where (for a price) you can swim in their pool... in actual skin-showing swim suits, it would feel like not being in Sudan for an afternoon if it wasn't for all the NGO workers discussing the humanitarian situations beyond the walls. I met a cartographer who drew a line wrong on a map and caused hundreds of refugees to end up in the wrong place.

There are power cuts each now and again. last night the power went out when I was right at the end of a long email (sorry Aldo, I'll write it again soon) . It's a good way to regularly defrost the fridge.

I have bought my very first pumice stone to file all the dead skin off my feet, feels better now.

Winter

2006-11-25T16:49:00.000+01:00

The two things that bothered me most upon arriving in Sudan have strangely seemed to slide away into the dust. First the oppressive heat; in the past 3 weeks it has cooled down a hell of a lot. In fact it got down to 23 degrees the other night so I had to put another top on. I remember a summer in Edinburgh when it got up to 23 degrees I felt it was hot enough to risk cooking dinner in my bra. How times have changed. So cool as it is, I think the locals take it a step far when they wear balaclavas and wrap their toddlers up in fleecy coats.

The other concern was the expence of the place. I have learnt where the cheap food places are, I'm very comfortable with the bus systems and as my local market owners see me walking and busing around the place they have learnt that I'm not a UN worker and have dropped the price of their goods to suit. Also, working two nights at the newspaper over doubles my income. I really like it. I learn a bit about English, and a lot about what is going on.

I have met some of the old volunteers from SVP (the Sudan volunteer programme) that have moved onto NGOs (non government organisations) like UNICEF (United Nations children's emergency fund) and got interested in the possibility of working with the prevention of FGM (female genital mutilation).

From what I understand, Girls are circumcised when they are babies or when they reach puberty. This is practiced in 28 African countries and in the Middle East. It is not a in the Qur'an but (like the head scarf) has become part of some Muslim practices. It can be anywhere from the removal of the labia, to removal of everything and sewing up hole that remains with only enough of a gap to pee through. So there are many groups that through education programmes are saying this is barbaric, stop it.

I come to this issue from a different perspective. A pagan perspective. I understand the importance of initiation rituals. the marking of a time when a girl becomes a woman. not just for an individual, but for the family and community. this is a time to trade, celebrate, arrange marriages and present their daughter. It is the debutant ball of the African world. this can not be simply taken away.

In initiation practices there must be a form of ordeal. the initiate must prove their worth. That they have a right to belong to the tribe/group/family. In the Jewish bar mitzvah the initiate must recite from the Torah when they are 12 or 13. It sounds like a horribly daunting experience but once done they have proved themselves and adult... and better that having your bits whipped off, well for the lads they don't have any left.

So I think every tribe that practices female circumcision needs to be looked at individually. Why do they do it? what are the benefits. So then it can be worked out what can be adjusted so the lass is not deprived of the possibility of experiencing pleasure, or have her health endangered. Look into options of other rituals (if blood has to be drawn or if pain is important, scarification, or if they must alter the genitalia I could recommend piercing; if they must cut reducing what they take and what they do) , and work with the commuities, negotiate so what the would do. I think if FGM is outlawed it will go underground, into the the back-sheds and out of the view of noisy interfering westerners who think their ways are always right.

So I would like to get involved with this. I don't quite know how, but I'll ask around. One tribe at a time I think things can be changed. And after we rid Africa of the brutal practice of stealing parts of girls genitals without their free choice, robbing them of nerve endings and telling them they are cleaner for it... I'll go to the USA and rid it of the brutal practice of stealing parts of boys genitals without their free choice, robbing them of nerve endings and telling them they are cleaner for it.

fuzzy llama, fluffy llama

2006-11-16T16:19:00.000+01:00

Just wanted to share this with you... it is stupid, but seems to get funnier everytime I see it. it makes me laugh. I happen to have sound on the computer I got today so have been listening it for far too long.

http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/llama.php

It's dumb and I love it. Llama, llama duck.

Lost another piercing

2006-11-16T14:50:00.000+01:00

This time, from the middle of my head. It got infected. Things are not supposed to get infected in the desert. what's the point in living in a big sandpit if bacteria is going to thrive like it is in the jungle? Anyway it was yucky. Really yucky. it was swollen and red, I started to resemble a unicorn, no not so pretty, more like a rhino. so it had to go. The shame. I loved that piercing, and i know it is really hard to re pierce through scar tissue, so i may not be able to get it back. but i shall always have at least two little scars where it once was. at the moment i have what looks like two zits one above the other between my eyebrows.

So I have started teaching properly now. it has taken a while to bully the teaching assistant into arranging timetables, then attempt to explain that the timetable can not work if students are supposed to be in two different places at the same time. Then just redo the timetables myself. So now i have mostly 3rd-5th year English students discussion class. Yay! and also an independent group of zoology and other science students who want to practice thier English in their spare time. So all really goo. and tomorrow I'm going to work out a full plan of different topics to cover. One of my classes is sort of a left-over class, so I'm just going to use it for games and drama. last time they created a television add from objects in a bag. Today they had to decide on objects to use in a survival scenario.

My flatmate has left. Mick, suppose he wasn't really my flatmate, but we had been hanging out together for a month. He got his motorbike parts, and headed off south-west to Ethiopia. So i now have a big empty house. Sudanese people don't live alone. I'm watching Mick's blog to see how he goes. He actually invited me along to Cape Town. I was tickled pink with the invitation. but I quite like it here. Don't think I'll be able to handle the summer though. The weather here is so much better in just the two weeks i have been here. It is really cool at night. I sleep out on the balcony but now i use my sleeping bag. I have not had any problems with mosquitos but, the ants here bite, and not just once, they continue to bite several times in the same area. at the moment i have bites on my butt from this morning and upper thigh from yesterday... how do they get there.

So I'm settling in. still no sign of my passport, no AIDS test yet, no evidence of a visa extension or residency... yet I am assured it is all in hand, it is just everything takes longer here. So two days over my visa expiry. can't leave Khartoum. I had no intention to anyway but I have always treasured my freedom. I have been also assured that i am not here illegally... but the date stamped in my passport tells me otherwise. so I shall sit it out nervously. I know I can not make things more faster than the volunteer programme.

I have a television in my house. So I'm going to ask my landlady again if she can get it tuned in. there is BBC, and CNN that I might be able to get, and a couple of other English-language channels. and yesterday the big Arab news station Al Jazeeria started to broadcast in English. It will be nice to hear the other side, and maybe even understand it better. http://english.aljazeera.net/News

This is the newspaper i shall proof read for in evenings twice a week: http://www.sudantribune.com/ and this is my university: http://www.uofk.edu/ It was incredible when it was build at the turn of the century, and up till the 1950s it was cutting edge... but nothing seems to have happened since Sudan's independence from British rule in 1954. everything is dilapidated... but it still holds it's reputation. it is a very green campus, and i have been told that there are even monkeys in some of the trees (escaped from a closing zoo a few years ago) .

So to make up for the lack of photos, I shall pop in a couple of the lovely Missy Malone who continues to be my muse and heroine. The first is the cover of The List by photographer Jannica Honey, one of Missy's first but definitely not last covers. And the Bride of Frankenstein photo is from Birmingham's Candybox by Darkstones... everything on www.myspace.com/missy_malone including a couple of videos and pictures with me before i shaved my head and grew a rhino horn.

Sense and Censorship

2006-11-08T16:50:00.000+01:00

A couple of days ago one of the French teachers was grabbed and pulled off the bus at the busy main bus station. She screamed for the police and 2 police came. The man who grabbed her kept trying to take her mobile phone away. It turned out that the grabber was a plain clothes police officer. She showed the 3 of them her French passport but to no effect, the officers got her into a car and started driving. She phoned a Sudanese friend and explained what was happening, each time she described a landmark they turned the car.

She got away, uncharged, with the help of her friend. They said they had seen her going to the University and didn't know who she was. She is Black, her parents from Chad, so they may have thought she was an illegal immigrant. She is also French, so dresses western, perhaps a bit too much for a black woman here. I don't know, it seems to be just chance it you get pulled up for something and equally just chance if you get away.

There is a long process of paperwork and red tape here. It requires a lot of keeping on the ball as to knowing what you need or don't need. My visa runs out on the 15th. It can be extended, but because I am staying here for 7 months they are applying for residency. This means a long progress: AIDS tests, paperwork and more waiting, also more pushing people to do stuff. I don't want to be here illegally (obiviously). This is not a country to be illegitimate in, and it is easy to be in the wrong: you must have a permit to take photos, all travel South, East, and West requites permits, permits are also required to visit historic sites... Americans are not allowed more than 25 miles outside Khartoum... unless of course they have a special permit.

So my job this week is to make sure my residency is secured or my visa extended. The advantage is, these things are done through the volunteer programme. So there is the support of the Ministry of higher education, and the Ministry of foreign affairs. The disadvantage is that the one person whose job it is to do this has not once, ever, done what he said he would do. I have given up trying to bully him into action and am now enlisting the help of his much more competent co-worker (who got my passport registered).

I have to edit the truth a bit, and often. If I am hanging out with Mick, he is my Husband or brother. Woman are 'valued' and of course if a woman is wandering off by herself, without any man to care for her, watch over her and protect her, then of course she must be not worthy: she is invaluable. It has also been recommended to me to say that I am Christian when asked my religion. This was suggested by some liberal Sudanese people I was already editing the truth. I certainly wouldn't say witch, the connotations are far too horrific, and pagan is also dodgy. So I was flippantly switching between Agnostic and atheist, the former not understood and the latter 'shameful'. I have managed to avoid saying I'm Christian... I just don't know if I can bring myself to do it.

No one knows of my burlesque past (not even fellow westerners, Mick suggests that it is too much information, so I shall take his advice until I don't). Most definitely, no one knows of the wee spot of stripping in did. I hate the censorship. I'm proud of my previous occupations. I know I have to bend and adapt to this culture, I have to realise that my morals are viewed here as absolutely shocking and disgusting (in a country where there is no age limit to marry and a man can take 4 wives). But how far do I bend? Do I attempt to intergrate until I'm in a burka myself? Till I believe what the government says? Till I stop questioning? The difference with me (as compared to the people who sit beside me tapping away on their computers) is that I know differently, I have experienced other ways, and I'm only here temporally, I will leave, I have no reason to create change. I just need to watch, listen, learn... and attempt to understand.

I heard word that one of the former volunteers was deported for insighting revolutionist tendencies in her class. I'm supposed to avoid the topics of religion, sex and politics in my University discussion groups... not easy as I need to get the students talking, and these are the 3 topics that will guarantee a conversation. It has been suggested that there may be at least one student in each class that is being paid by the police to be an informant. So it is in my best interests to steer conversations way from the present government, or Daufur, or UN, or well just about anything in the newspapers.

Sudan: the first week

2006-11-06T16:53:00.000+01:00

Right, so Sudan. I want to tell you about what strikes me, before it fades away into being normal. It's a large, sprawling flat city, not many buildings are over 4 stories (mine is actually 3 stories not 4) the main roads are sealed, but the smaller roads in between are dirt. Only a few of the larger roads through and around the city have street lights. My street does. Sitting out on the balcony Mick heard a strange shuffling noise and the sound of flip-flops. Looking down onto the street we saw about 20 men in orange suits sweeping the road with stiff house brooms. They looked like prisoners but were not under armed supervision... so must just be the street sweeping team.

There are a lot of armed men in uniform here. Myriad different uniforms too. In Egypt it was easier: the young guys who are on National service are popped into white uniforms, those who can speak English (no matter how minimal) are tourist police, those that are left are traffic police. Here there seems to be a uniform for every possible different field of authority. But I don't know how much authority they have. The school uniform for many of the boys high school is cammo combats (one school looks a bit more like pajamas than fatigues) and I did see a couple of 'desert storm' uniforms (the one of the only two different types of cammo I reconise, the other is the funky pixalisation low-resolution cammo of the Canadians). So, camouflage is the Sudanese black.

I stick to the old black (which is not grey, it's black). This is a foolish colour to wearing in stinking, sweltering, dry, suppressive, draining, life-sucking heat. I'm told too that it is fortunate that I came in the winter, summer gets really hot. It is about 38 degrees in the shade. It hits over night lows in the 40s in summer. So slowly I'm going to have to change my waldrobe to lighter colours (and also my underwear to prevent show-though... I'm not allowed a body remember).

Food here is much like India, bowls of luke-warm and cold mush. Very tasty, eaten with bread. I cook at home, I have a fabulous kitchen. And while Mick is staying with me I get treated to meals out. Last night we had Nile perch... On the Nile.

Mick should be getting his bike parts at the end of the week InshAllah (God willing, or just the way you end sentences here). Then he'll need to get going fast to avoid the rains in Kenya. The two Nick's flew through Sudan, we a blinked and missed them. Last writing on their blog they had made it to Ethiopia and sealed roads and beer, so they are happy.

A couple of days ago there was a sheep in my backyard (the back yard is beside the house, it is dirt ground, a garage made from posts and a corrugated iron roof, a few piles of ceramic basins and the neibours cars all behind a metal gate). It was tied to one of the posts of the garage, an hour later it had been decapitated and was slowly being cut up for dinner. It's just these little things that are not good or bad, they are just different. You simply don't see people kill their own mutton for dinner where I'm from.

The busses are mini vans where 20 people huddle in, as each person gets off at their stop everyone shuffles back so only the seats near the door a vacant (very intelligent) . To stop the bus you click your fingers, the young bus conductor makes a hissing sound and the driver stops. It is a quiet, tranquil experience.

I have regular teaching hours. I still don't enjoy teaching. Just not my cup of tea. It may be better when I get to know the classes more. Also when I have a better idea of what topics to cover. I may have a job at a local English newspaper, starting the week after this. One night a week proof reading. Yeah I know, I suck at that. But, they don't know that yet and I might get better. I have read the Sudan Tribune a couple of times and spotted mistake, so might be able to do a better job than the person they have already. It's extra money, It's not private teaching, and it is in a field I am interested in.

I don't have much internet access, but I have found a cheaper place. This year two people have most annoyingly put my email address into the web without asking first. As a result I am back to getting 15 spam emails a day. This annoys me so much. People should know better... Would you give away your friends snail mail address to 'readers digest' without asking first? No. Why would you sign them up for a message service, friends reunited or WAYN without asking? Anyway this annoying and I may have to give jup the single email account I have kept for over 10 years. If I do get around to it I'll let you know. I vainly don't want to be y0ung -cr0ne_234 @wherever .com .

I like Sudan. It is a challenge.

Settling into Sudan

2006-11-01T13:14:00.000+01:00

Khartoum is a city of about 3 million people... well so the lonely planet says, but written 2 years ago a lot has changed here. like, US sanctions which mean I can not change travelers cheques or access ATM machines (hence my povety) and also the waves of displaced people who have now joined the city. So it's pretty big. I can't take photos. Ok I can't take photos legally so I'll try and take a few shots from roofs and post them. The government is Arab Muslim so Women in the city must keep their heads covered. Some have told me this is law but there are a few that don't do it, and a lot of foreigners seem to let their hair out. I play it safe and keep my 1cm mop covered.

The UN has a massive presence here. each day I see 3 or 4 shiny white trucks with bold 'UN' on the side, all diplomats. haven't seen a blue hat yet. I have been here 4 days, when to a party on my second night hosted by another volunteer and a French teacher from the university where I will be teaching. The ex-pat community here seems to be, in order of wealth: Embassy staff, humanitarian workers, foreign language teachers, volunteer language teachers. So I'm amongst some people with some very impressive job titles, like 'humanitarian correspondent for the French embassy' he only looked about 26.

So, the deal for me: as expected the volunteer position was not as I thought, unlike I had expected it is far better. I work only 20 hours a week instead of 30, I get paid 150usd a month instead of 100 and I get paid in local currency. my flat is a huge one bedroom appartment on the 4th floor (most buildings here are only 2 storeys). There is a huge balcony that I'm going to set us as my bedroom. All I need out there is a mosquito net.

I am supposed to share with Anna, another volunteer teacher (the one who had the party) but she moved into a flat with Joanna, a French teacher. So I have the place to myself. the volunteer programme don't want me to live my myself so thought it a great idea for Mick to stay (he has to wait around Sudan for a couple of weeks for motorcycle parts to arrive). I was supprised at this as Mick is an unrelated male. So he gets the cool breezy balcony, and I get the room with air con. luxury.

I have not yet started teaching. But the position is also better than I expected, I was supposed to be placed that the Islamic University, but after a lot of messing the programme about they decided they don't want a female teacher. It would have been interesting, but would have involved a hell of a lot of tongue biting. So I have a placement at Khartoum University, Faculty of Arts, Department of English to teach (or lead)... Conversational discussion groups. Perfect.

My time table will be arranged when the department teaching assistant returns from his holiday. that just how things work here. until then I shall sit in on Anna's classes. she does actual teaching as she is an actual teacher (actually she's a bit like my mother, she's 60 years old and had decided to help disadvantage students have access to experienced English teaching before she heads into retirement). I will also try and sit in on some of the other volunteers' classes. there are three ridiculously good looking 20-something guys who all live in a flat in a different part of the city, and two more who look like they are in their 30s who live above the volunteer programme office which is right in the middle of the city. We are all dotted about at different Univerities and schools.

What I would really like is a phone. The volunteer programme are insisting on it for my safety (they are obsessed with safety) and I think it might me useful in aquiring a social life. I could just change some currency and buy one for usual western prices and get a sim card. but I am really reluctant to eat into my limited supply of hard cash. So if you have an old mobile phone laying about you house doing nothing please sent it to me. Only if you don't use it and don't want it. Also send the charger, I have an adaptor. If more than one of you sends a phone I will give them to the volunteer programme so in years to come all volunteers will be given a phone upon arrival, that would be nice. Here is were to send it to:

Rachel Walton
C/O Momen Osman Salih
Sudan Volunteer Programme
P O Box 1387
Khartoum
Sudan

Don't need anything else, Seem to be able to get all I need here. Even snickers bars. Also, if you didn't already think of it, on the outside of the package say something like 'child's toy' and if asked a value make it very low. things dissappear in the post. I have noticed that the best way to get around corruption is to lie.

I have a cold, had if for a few days now. Also sorry about the lack of email contact. I am delaying writing real emails in the hope the university might have internet facilties... or even more exciting, free internet for staff.

Summary of Egypt

2006-10-31T14:41:00.000+01:00

Better just start with a summary (in the style of a high school friendship book) of the 7 weeks in Egypt before I forget it:

Best thing brought: Inflatable pillow, sunglasses (otherwise my eyeballs would have dried up by now).

Worst thing brought: Comb

Best thing bought: Burka

Worst thing bought: Taxi ride without knowing the price first

Most surprising: Ginger Arabs (really, orange eyelashes and brow on one guy)

Typically Egyptian: A man with a callus on his forehead from praying saying "nice bum"

What's ok: Cat poo in piles on the stairs of an apartment building

What's not ok: Eating with the left hand

What works: Juice bars, fresh mango or pomegranite juice a day. A brilliant system of dish washing.

What doesn't work: Any government organisation during Ramadan

What I learnt: WD40 is the Nectar of the Gods, I also learnt that all those letter 'r's that I leave off the end of words actually get used where a word ending in a vowel is next to a word starting with a vowel... so I can say: "Chinar and Canadar ae countries with cas." and I still use the correct amount of 'r's.

What I learnt to do: Cross motorways, lane by lane... don't like it, but I do it.

I knew I was in Africa when: I used my lovely precision slanted edged bevel tipped eyebrow tweezers to remove small stones from my flip-flops.