Yesterday, I had a pretty traumatic experience. In the morning Pat and I decided to go to Sidist Kilo to work at Mother Teresa’s hospital for the sick and the dying destitute. While we were on the taxi at one of the stops our minibus hit a little street boy. We hadn’t moved very much, but the impact still made the most horrifying sound. For a split second I froze in shock until the boy’s screams snapped me back to reality. People didn’t react as I thought they would. At first the spectators just stood over him, and all of the passengers on our bus sat there stoically as if we were simply waiting for more to get on. The guy taking the money for our cab stood in the doorway looking down as if the whole problem was a nuisance. I couldn’t move to see how badly he was injured so I was trying to judge by people’s faces – his cries were enough to tell me everything was not okay. Nothing matched up and the confusion sent me into a pretty emotional state. Finally the boy was lifted by some men into our bus and placed on the floor next to our seat. He wasn’t bleeding, but he was holding his leg, and his face was wrenched with pain. I tried to hold back my own tears, but I was angry and sad. I felt helpless and mad that this boy, who has it bad enough, would find himself in such a painful and scary situation. He looked about nine years old, dirty and dressed in rags. The fact that he’s hanging around the taxi stop tells me he’s a street kid left to fend for himself. Going through something like that is hard enough, but it’s worse when you don’t have anyone to care for you. As I sat there waiting for the outcome I covered my face and prayed; I wanted to be anywhere but in that situation. The suffering of that boy was too real, and for some reason I felt guilty that I was a passenger on the bus. The driver and his coworker continued the route, while the boy sat there crying. I finally turned to the people behind us and asked if they spoke English. They did, and I explained that we were on our way to the hospital. So once everyone got off, Pat and I took them to Mother Teresa’s open wound clinic. When we got there I examined the boy’s leg. He was trying to be so strong and thankfully it didn’t look like his leg was broken. When the head sister came out I explained what happened. Since it was a result of a dispute she said they were not allowed to treat him and that it would have to be taken care of at a government hospital. I could tell she was sorry she couldn’t do more, but it didn’t make things better. I realized I had to let it go and hope that the driver would do the right thing and take him to a hospital where he could at least get some pain medicine. At that point it was too late to volunteer at the hospital so Pat and I turned around and went back home. The rest of the day I noticed every street kid that we passed. One little boy in rags climbed a short barbed wire fence, walked to a grassy area in the middle of town and squatted to go to the bathroom. His pants were too baggy to really stay on. No one was with him.
It was hard for me to do anything “normal” after that. All I could think about is the injured boy and his loneliness. I went to Mother Teresa’s in Asco that afternoon and held the babies. Some of them are really getting big. I can see their personalities develop and how they are more aware of things around them. Yared, the baby that I have fallen in love with was not there again. He is back in the sick room. I found him in the very last crib sucking on a bottle of special formula. When I came up to the side of the crib he got a sparkle in his eye, pulled the bottle out of his mouth and lifted it to me. Then he pulled it away quickly and smiled. He has developed a coy humor. He also loves to be held, but he doesn’t cry or beg like the other babies do. He is very gentle and sweet. Whenever I hold him he just lays his head on my shoulder and looks out the window. His eyes squint in a slight smile when he is at ease. That sick room is home to a constant rotation of orphaned and abandoned babies with HIV. Some are only days old and left for dead in the streets. The nurses and sisters love them and bring them back to health to the best of their ability. Sister Maria took me around one day and told me each one’s story without looking at a single chart. Some of them are so tiny and malnourished that they just lay and groan. Sister Maria is their mother and provider. One time when I was there a nurse gave me an oxygen machine and asked me to administer it to one of the sickly babies. This was progress from the oxygen tubes he had been breathing from. Yesterday another baby was propped up on a crib and handed the breathing machine. She sat there and gave herself the treatment. An Israeli woman noticed my shock and confirmed that a normal child would not be able to do that.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Day 85: Transitioning
I am exactly one month behind on my journal. To shed light on what’s really been going on I must first be honest about my own thoughts and feelings. Things have been moving at their typical pace – slow on bad days and time warp speed on the good ones. Bad days are not triggered by any external circumstances, but rather my own state of mind. These days are not predominant by any means, but they have become more frequent as I’ve searched for direction in how my remaining time should be spent. As I question my purpose, I get bogged down with doubt and discouragement. I start to wonder if four months is really enough. I ask God what I am supposed to do when I return to the States, but instead of listening I let my own ideas cloud my head. Then I am disappointed in myself when I realize these thoughts have affected my attitude. Because of my worries a whole day is wasted.
This internal monologue has been going on since summer school let out. My life is once again a see-saw of indecision. As I try to make a decision on how I should spend my last two months I realize I don’t have to go back in November. Some of the things I would do require I stay longer. Given that choice to make, I’ve complicated things by worrying about tomorrow and the next day. In my heart I desire more than anything to follow God’s will, but I don’t think there is a right or wrong decision as long as God is given control. I don’t know what I’m looking for or how I expect God to answer, so living with this big question mark has been frustrating. There are days when I feel certain I should stay longer and take on more responsibilities and then the rational side compels me to stick with the original plan and go back to America to get a job. These choices are coupled with so many competing factors: missing family, the rewards of serving, the approaching deadline for grad school applications, a depleted savings account, etc. I guess I am cursed with two equally appealing options. Even though my current plan is to stay until December things are not set in stone - fears of making a resolute decision and the consequences that will follow hold me back. To make matters worse I can’t even rely on my emotions to make a decision because they are constantly changing. Now that I have been here longer I’ve experienced a more intense range of emotions. One day I am filled with exhilaration and the next I feel total weariness. One thing is certain, whenever I am at Destiny with Hareg and Yonatin I know I could stay indefinitely. Their resolve to improve the school inspires me on a daily basis.
That being said, the past month has revealed to me a more in-depth perspective of what Cherokee is doing and how it fits in the bigger picture of international development. With a new group here and a slower work week due to the millennium holiday I’ve gotten a chance to spend more time at other NGO’s. The opportunities to serve are endless; we’ve been in contact with numerous organizations that are making a major impact on the lives of the poor. Even though Cherokee Gives Back is still defining what it looks like on the ground I think it has been very successful in partnering with some of the most successful NGO’s in Addis. We have a network of entities that range from the essential relief efforts for orphans and street kids as well as projects in job creation, health care, and education. All are critical for obtaining sustainability in an emerging nation.
But before I touch on all of that I must backtrack to my last week of school. School ended on August 30th. Seven weeks passed by faster than I had anticipated. I developed a close bond with my students in the final weeks and started to dread the end. I also felt the pressure to make sure they had learned something worthwhile. The Friday before our last week I offered the class the option of doing a group project. They took a vote and decided to write a script and then perform it in front of the school on the last day. Seemed simple enough. On Monday we assigned roles and started the script writing. They decided on a rendition of Cinderella. Then Tuesday we continued to work on the script, but with English as a second language it was hard to keep all 27 kids focused on writing a dialogue. In the end, the kids did not get the final script until Wednesday and the performance was scheduled for Thursday. A sinking feeling came over me as I realized I was a terrible director and playwright. As we rehearsed the skit in the nursery I could see disaster written all over it. I tried to let go of my desire for perfection and settle for something short of failure. It was fun to watch them try to convey the proper emotion in their lines. The older kids had been given the major parts and they gave the littler kids more confidence. Their shyness melted away and by our final rehearsal they seemed to be really into it. As Wednesday came to an end I tried to offer my final pleas for line memorization and prayed that the scenes would at least be acted out in the right order.
My summer school kids on the last day of school.
On Thursday I left the house extra early to purchase donuts and cakes for my class. Most of them came to school early. We ate the treats and then the six older students read to the class the Millennium essays they had prepared. Hareg came for the presentations and offered constructive criticism. They did a great job. Then we assembled and rehearsed Cinderella (Ethiopian style) on our make-shift stage. The nursery has a curtain dividing the nap area from the rest of the room which provided the backdrop. I was stunned to find that all of them had memorized their lines in one night. It was a miracle. I was so proud of them. After two rehearsals the audience of younger students assembled in rows of tiny chairs.
The primary students at Destiny Academy and captive audience.
Then the play began and it went off without a hitch even spurring laughter at the appropriate moments. I had underestimated my students; and I fell in love with each one of them.
Cinderella: Trying on the "glass slipper."
When the play was over the class took a bow and then awards were presented to the top students of each class.
My students take a bow after their performance of Cinderella.
I hated choosing only two after the effort all of them had just shown, but I selected one boy and one girl. Adi because she made a 100% on every test and Mesfin because he had gone from the one complaining on the first day to being a proven leader and role model in his effort and participation. Then Namuna got everyone’s attention and gave a speech on behalf my class thanking me for being their teacher. Some of them were crying. They presented me with a purse and matching scarf and a cute pair of shoes which fit perfectly. I knew they had planned something because for the past week there had been snickering and the collection of money each morning. I cry at their sweet gesture even now. I know how little they could afford. When that was over school was dismissed, but I asked my students to meet in class before they left. I had written each one of them a note in their journal and gave them pencils. Then I asked if they wanted to finish “School Story,” the book we had been reading together in class. All of them said yes. When that was finished I hugged them all good-bye and many of them couldn’t hold back tears. It broke my heart, but it was also the most special gift they gave me. Since they are too old to go to Destiny during the school year I won’t see most of them ever again. But, every once in awhile I’ll see one of them hanging around the school. Natnael, the one who had struggled so much with reading, ran up to me the other day and just stood in front of me smiling. He couldn’t respond to many of my questions, but there is definitely an improvement in his confidence. I was so happy to see him.
School ended and then the first arrivals of our new group from Cherokee came on Tuesday. But I’ll have to continue later…it’s time for me to substitute teach at Destiny.
This internal monologue has been going on since summer school let out. My life is once again a see-saw of indecision. As I try to make a decision on how I should spend my last two months I realize I don’t have to go back in November. Some of the things I would do require I stay longer. Given that choice to make, I’ve complicated things by worrying about tomorrow and the next day. In my heart I desire more than anything to follow God’s will, but I don’t think there is a right or wrong decision as long as God is given control. I don’t know what I’m looking for or how I expect God to answer, so living with this big question mark has been frustrating. There are days when I feel certain I should stay longer and take on more responsibilities and then the rational side compels me to stick with the original plan and go back to America to get a job. These choices are coupled with so many competing factors: missing family, the rewards of serving, the approaching deadline for grad school applications, a depleted savings account, etc. I guess I am cursed with two equally appealing options. Even though my current plan is to stay until December things are not set in stone - fears of making a resolute decision and the consequences that will follow hold me back. To make matters worse I can’t even rely on my emotions to make a decision because they are constantly changing. Now that I have been here longer I’ve experienced a more intense range of emotions. One day I am filled with exhilaration and the next I feel total weariness. One thing is certain, whenever I am at Destiny with Hareg and Yonatin I know I could stay indefinitely. Their resolve to improve the school inspires me on a daily basis.
That being said, the past month has revealed to me a more in-depth perspective of what Cherokee is doing and how it fits in the bigger picture of international development. With a new group here and a slower work week due to the millennium holiday I’ve gotten a chance to spend more time at other NGO’s. The opportunities to serve are endless; we’ve been in contact with numerous organizations that are making a major impact on the lives of the poor. Even though Cherokee Gives Back is still defining what it looks like on the ground I think it has been very successful in partnering with some of the most successful NGO’s in Addis. We have a network of entities that range from the essential relief efforts for orphans and street kids as well as projects in job creation, health care, and education. All are critical for obtaining sustainability in an emerging nation.
But before I touch on all of that I must backtrack to my last week of school. School ended on August 30th. Seven weeks passed by faster than I had anticipated. I developed a close bond with my students in the final weeks and started to dread the end. I also felt the pressure to make sure they had learned something worthwhile. The Friday before our last week I offered the class the option of doing a group project. They took a vote and decided to write a script and then perform it in front of the school on the last day. Seemed simple enough. On Monday we assigned roles and started the script writing. They decided on a rendition of Cinderella. Then Tuesday we continued to work on the script, but with English as a second language it was hard to keep all 27 kids focused on writing a dialogue. In the end, the kids did not get the final script until Wednesday and the performance was scheduled for Thursday. A sinking feeling came over me as I realized I was a terrible director and playwright. As we rehearsed the skit in the nursery I could see disaster written all over it. I tried to let go of my desire for perfection and settle for something short of failure. It was fun to watch them try to convey the proper emotion in their lines. The older kids had been given the major parts and they gave the littler kids more confidence. Their shyness melted away and by our final rehearsal they seemed to be really into it. As Wednesday came to an end I tried to offer my final pleas for line memorization and prayed that the scenes would at least be acted out in the right order.
My summer school kids on the last day of school.
On Thursday I left the house extra early to purchase donuts and cakes for my class. Most of them came to school early. We ate the treats and then the six older students read to the class the Millennium essays they had prepared. Hareg came for the presentations and offered constructive criticism. They did a great job. Then we assembled and rehearsed Cinderella (Ethiopian style) on our make-shift stage. The nursery has a curtain dividing the nap area from the rest of the room which provided the backdrop. I was stunned to find that all of them had memorized their lines in one night. It was a miracle. I was so proud of them. After two rehearsals the audience of younger students assembled in rows of tiny chairs.
The primary students at Destiny Academy and captive audience.
Then the play began and it went off without a hitch even spurring laughter at the appropriate moments. I had underestimated my students; and I fell in love with each one of them.
Cinderella: Trying on the "glass slipper."
When the play was over the class took a bow and then awards were presented to the top students of each class.
My students take a bow after their performance of Cinderella.
I hated choosing only two after the effort all of them had just shown, but I selected one boy and one girl. Adi because she made a 100% on every test and Mesfin because he had gone from the one complaining on the first day to being a proven leader and role model in his effort and participation. Then Namuna got everyone’s attention and gave a speech on behalf my class thanking me for being their teacher. Some of them were crying. They presented me with a purse and matching scarf and a cute pair of shoes which fit perfectly. I knew they had planned something because for the past week there had been snickering and the collection of money each morning. I cry at their sweet gesture even now. I know how little they could afford. When that was over school was dismissed, but I asked my students to meet in class before they left. I had written each one of them a note in their journal and gave them pencils. Then I asked if they wanted to finish “School Story,” the book we had been reading together in class. All of them said yes. When that was finished I hugged them all good-bye and many of them couldn’t hold back tears. It broke my heart, but it was also the most special gift they gave me. Since they are too old to go to Destiny during the school year I won’t see most of them ever again. But, every once in awhile I’ll see one of them hanging around the school. Natnael, the one who had struggled so much with reading, ran up to me the other day and just stood in front of me smiling. He couldn’t respond to many of my questions, but there is definitely an improvement in his confidence. I was so happy to see him.
School ended and then the first arrivals of our new group from Cherokee came on Tuesday. But I’ll have to continue later…it’s time for me to substitute teach at Destiny.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Day 71: Happy New Year!
Last night I got to party like it was 1999 because in Ethiopia it was. Today is the New Year and the start of a new millennium for Ethiopia. It’s funny to think I’m now one of the few people on earth who has lived to see the coming of two millennium new years! It was a pretty typical new year’s eve with people taking off work to be with family and friends, the town decorated with festive lights, and everyone staying out til midnight, but for a country with so many problems and yet so much potential it was more than just a party.
Witnessing the excitement building up to this momentous occasion has been an experience in and of itself. The millennium has been the talk of the town escaping no one’s thoughts; it has been on the minds of the street kids to the highest officials in the land. Everyone has been planning for it for months and the celebrations will continue throughout the year. The expectations have ranged from complete indifference to predicting widespread change. I have heard stories of the poor thinking that the government is going to eliminate their debt and everyone in the country will suddenly be rich. Those are the sad tales of a nation filled with lost and helpless people. It has been interesting to hear observations that are so readily given. People have had mixed opinions about the occasion, but all are alike in recognizing it as a big deal.
You can’t deny its influence as roads are being torn up and multi-million dollar stadiums are erected for this one festive night. But government officials and event organizers would argue that it is more than just one night. Tens of thousands were expected to return to Addis for the celebration. As our latest guests arrived at the airport reporters hounded them asking if they were here for the millennium. In the past few months the city has been working round the clock. The Chinese, known for their low-cost, fast-paced labor, have been contracted to repair all the roads and complete most of the construction sites throughout the city. The construction has made transportation a bear. The government has worked hard to turn its image as political prisoners were released and public initiatives such as tree planting were implemented. The homeless are being removed from the city and relocated to the country and meat laced with poison has been laid out to eradicate the stray dogs. All of these things are an attempt to show the world that Ethiopia is ready to be looked at differently.
I remember when I celebrated my first millennium new year. I was a senior in high school and my class had been dubbed the “class of the millennium.” All of our talk centered on the ominous possibilities of Y2K. For me, it was just a bigger excuse to have a party and then life moved on. The only adjustment was writing the date differently. In any case, the approaching New Year forces a reflection on the past and present and creates anticipation for the future. It’s as if for one day history stops writing and offers you a chance to pen a draft of the coming chapters. Here there has been an underlying consciousness of that fact. It weighs heavily on every concerned citizen. This burden is under girded by a determination to close a door on the past, to start a new chapter in history – one without poverty, famine, and war.
It’s hard to tell what the majority opinion is, but I think the skeptics realize that for change to happen it must happen from within. It can’t be mandated through a government program. I think it is admirable for the country to unite in an effort to lift itself out of “developing” status. However, the New Year is just another day until someone makes the choice to change his ways. And for a country with nearly half its population of 77 million malnourished it also requires the compassion of others.
As I walked to work yesterday, I could feel a difference and slight shift in the mood from the past few months. It was as if the whole city was on the verge of a huge reality check – a hush and heavy disappointment looms. The beggars and homeless were nowhere to be seen – they’d been swept under a rug. But they’ll be back. It is sad. I was frustrated by the short-sightedness of sweeping the streets for one night. Hope has wrongly been placed on the temporal solutions of men with more money than the nation’s GDP. Valuable energy and resources have been wasted on band aids that do nothing to heal the suffering of the millions living in this country.
The reality check for most is that life is going to go on. The exterior may have been different for a time, but overall, the hardships or the privileges that define one’s life will remain the status quo. I’m just hoping the pressure to improve the standard of living will remain at the forefront of everyone’s mind.
For one night there was a celebration and people forgot that today brings with it a new millennium that has yet to be written. Last night we gathered in the streets and shouted “melcom millennium!” to each other. And Sheik Mohammed al-Amoudi put on an impressive fireworks display for all to see. Few people get to have a once in a lifetime experience twice, but those of us who were in Addis last night managed to defy logic.
Historic Background:
Ethiopia is the only country in the world to still follow the Julian calendar which is seven years behind the Gregorian calendar that the western world follows. The New Year typically falls on September 11, but this is a leap year so today is actually the New Year. Ethiopia is also unique in that it has a 13 month calendar that consists of 12 30-day months and one 5 day month. Their slogan is “13 months of sunshine,” which is a bold-faced lie! They also follow time differently from the rest of the world. What we consider 7:00 AM is actually 1:00 AM Ethiopian time.
Related Articles:
http://africa.reuters.com/world/news/usnL11910980.html
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/west/chi-ethiopia12sep12,1,7350619.story
A Student's Perspective:
In light of the approaching millennium I asked some of my older students to write an essay about it. Here are a few excerpts (unedited). This one was written by Namuna:
The country Ethiopia is prepared itself to colorfully celebrate the millennium; the current New Year goes special to all Ethiopians. During the Ethiopian New Year, the government, the people & friends of Ethiopian would make great preparation to colorfully marking the up coming Ethiopian Millennium.
It brings hope.....The history of the country which has been colored by wars & famine, would be reversed as the Ethiopian millennium torch beams across the nation. The celebration has different uses for the country like economically, historically,...
• From 30 generations the one can have the chance to celebrate the millennium.
• In the last 1000 year they are good things like the civilizations and others, and they are also bad things. We encourage the good things & we change the mistake parts. We learn from the mistake parts and we welcome the new millennium.
• Every world knows that Ethiopia is under poverty, famine, war, .but for the coming millennium we have to leave this thing as a passed history & we have to join our hand to make Ethiopia developing or developed country.
• The governments do the following works to the country for the millennium.
1Planting tree seedlings using Aforestation & teach the others about reforestation.
2.Working & teaching the young's about HIV aids.
3.Girls are half part of the society. So, teaching or changing the opinion of the peoples& obeying the right of girls, children's& others... They are also lots of things to do for the millennium.
The peoples can get some information from radio, television, newspaper, website, magazine, newsletter, &teater places.
Ethiopia is the origin of human being, civilization & Ethiopia is Africa's oldest independent country. a part from a five-year occupation by Mussolini's Italy, it has never been colinised,but the nation is better know for its periodic droughts and famines, its long civil conflict with Eritrea. We change these things in the coming millennium.
OUR DIFFERENT IS OUR BEAUTY&OUR STRENGTH.
REPORTED BY NAMUNA DEREJE.
This one is by Ruth:
Ethiopia invite some musician from foreign country like mike Madonna etc but in my idea Ethiopian people must not spend
Millennium by only dancing because they must think new idea for the year for example in my idea last year
1 . if some one is back by knowledge he\she must be get education in the millennium and every body must be educated person.
2 .If the country is not developing country they should be developing country.
Witnessing the excitement building up to this momentous occasion has been an experience in and of itself. The millennium has been the talk of the town escaping no one’s thoughts; it has been on the minds of the street kids to the highest officials in the land. Everyone has been planning for it for months and the celebrations will continue throughout the year. The expectations have ranged from complete indifference to predicting widespread change. I have heard stories of the poor thinking that the government is going to eliminate their debt and everyone in the country will suddenly be rich. Those are the sad tales of a nation filled with lost and helpless people. It has been interesting to hear observations that are so readily given. People have had mixed opinions about the occasion, but all are alike in recognizing it as a big deal.
You can’t deny its influence as roads are being torn up and multi-million dollar stadiums are erected for this one festive night. But government officials and event organizers would argue that it is more than just one night. Tens of thousands were expected to return to Addis for the celebration. As our latest guests arrived at the airport reporters hounded them asking if they were here for the millennium. In the past few months the city has been working round the clock. The Chinese, known for their low-cost, fast-paced labor, have been contracted to repair all the roads and complete most of the construction sites throughout the city. The construction has made transportation a bear. The government has worked hard to turn its image as political prisoners were released and public initiatives such as tree planting were implemented. The homeless are being removed from the city and relocated to the country and meat laced with poison has been laid out to eradicate the stray dogs. All of these things are an attempt to show the world that Ethiopia is ready to be looked at differently.
I remember when I celebrated my first millennium new year. I was a senior in high school and my class had been dubbed the “class of the millennium.” All of our talk centered on the ominous possibilities of Y2K. For me, it was just a bigger excuse to have a party and then life moved on. The only adjustment was writing the date differently. In any case, the approaching New Year forces a reflection on the past and present and creates anticipation for the future. It’s as if for one day history stops writing and offers you a chance to pen a draft of the coming chapters. Here there has been an underlying consciousness of that fact. It weighs heavily on every concerned citizen. This burden is under girded by a determination to close a door on the past, to start a new chapter in history – one without poverty, famine, and war.
It’s hard to tell what the majority opinion is, but I think the skeptics realize that for change to happen it must happen from within. It can’t be mandated through a government program. I think it is admirable for the country to unite in an effort to lift itself out of “developing” status. However, the New Year is just another day until someone makes the choice to change his ways. And for a country with nearly half its population of 77 million malnourished it also requires the compassion of others.
As I walked to work yesterday, I could feel a difference and slight shift in the mood from the past few months. It was as if the whole city was on the verge of a huge reality check – a hush and heavy disappointment looms. The beggars and homeless were nowhere to be seen – they’d been swept under a rug. But they’ll be back. It is sad. I was frustrated by the short-sightedness of sweeping the streets for one night. Hope has wrongly been placed on the temporal solutions of men with more money than the nation’s GDP. Valuable energy and resources have been wasted on band aids that do nothing to heal the suffering of the millions living in this country.
The reality check for most is that life is going to go on. The exterior may have been different for a time, but overall, the hardships or the privileges that define one’s life will remain the status quo. I’m just hoping the pressure to improve the standard of living will remain at the forefront of everyone’s mind.
For one night there was a celebration and people forgot that today brings with it a new millennium that has yet to be written. Last night we gathered in the streets and shouted “melcom millennium!” to each other. And Sheik Mohammed al-Amoudi put on an impressive fireworks display for all to see. Few people get to have a once in a lifetime experience twice, but those of us who were in Addis last night managed to defy logic.
Historic Background:
Ethiopia is the only country in the world to still follow the Julian calendar which is seven years behind the Gregorian calendar that the western world follows. The New Year typically falls on September 11, but this is a leap year so today is actually the New Year. Ethiopia is also unique in that it has a 13 month calendar that consists of 12 30-day months and one 5 day month. Their slogan is “13 months of sunshine,” which is a bold-faced lie! They also follow time differently from the rest of the world. What we consider 7:00 AM is actually 1:00 AM Ethiopian time.
Related Articles:
http://africa.reuters.com/world/news/usnL11910980.html
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/west/chi-ethiopia12sep12,1,7350619.story
A Student's Perspective:
In light of the approaching millennium I asked some of my older students to write an essay about it. Here are a few excerpts (unedited). This one was written by Namuna:
The country Ethiopia is prepared itself to colorfully celebrate the millennium; the current New Year goes special to all Ethiopians. During the Ethiopian New Year, the government, the people & friends of Ethiopian would make great preparation to colorfully marking the up coming Ethiopian Millennium.
It brings hope.....The history of the country which has been colored by wars & famine, would be reversed as the Ethiopian millennium torch beams across the nation. The celebration has different uses for the country like economically, historically,...
• From 30 generations the one can have the chance to celebrate the millennium.
• In the last 1000 year they are good things like the civilizations and others, and they are also bad things. We encourage the good things & we change the mistake parts. We learn from the mistake parts and we welcome the new millennium.
• Every world knows that Ethiopia is under poverty, famine, war, .but for the coming millennium we have to leave this thing as a passed history & we have to join our hand to make Ethiopia developing or developed country.
• The governments do the following works to the country for the millennium.
1Planting tree seedlings using Aforestation & teach the others about reforestation.
2.Working & teaching the young's about HIV aids.
3.Girls are half part of the society. So, teaching or changing the opinion of the peoples& obeying the right of girls, children's& others... They are also lots of things to do for the millennium.
The peoples can get some information from radio, television, newspaper, website, magazine, newsletter, &teater places.
Ethiopia is the origin of human being, civilization & Ethiopia is Africa's oldest independent country. a part from a five-year occupation by Mussolini's Italy, it has never been colinised,but the nation is better know for its periodic droughts and famines, its long civil conflict with Eritrea. We change these things in the coming millennium.
OUR DIFFERENT IS OUR BEAUTY&OUR STRENGTH.
REPORTED BY NAMUNA DEREJE.
This one is by Ruth:
Ethiopia invite some musician from foreign country like mike Madonna etc but in my idea Ethiopian people must not spend
Millennium by only dancing because they must think new idea for the year for example in my idea last year
1 . if some one is back by knowledge he\she must be get education in the millennium and every body must be educated person.
2 .If the country is not developing country they should be developing country.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Living Under a Bridge
I haven’t detailed what we did on Watt’s last night in Addis. Of course he made sure it would be an interesting one. He decided to pursue a conversation with the homeless people in our area. They sleep under the overpass where we get a taxi each morning. When darkness came we ventured out with Mastewal and Abraham to the streets. We live in a wealthy neighborhood (relatively speaking), but all of the compounds are protected by high walls blocking any light that could illuminate our path. Though our walk was covered in darkness the streets were still active with the people who have nowhere else to go.
As Watt and Mastewal spoke with a man that is a permanent fixture under the bridge I noticed a woman lying on some tarps watching us intently. I walked over to her and asked Abraham to translate. She was very sick, but inviting. She even moved so I could sit on the tarp with her as if I had entered her living room. Meanwhile, people stared at us wondering what these foreigners were doing. It was difficult for her to talk because of a cough, but as I inquired of her situation she told us that she had left her home when her husband died during the famine. When she said this I didn’t think it could be possible because the famine she was referring to was over twenty years ago. Twenty years ago this woman lost her husband and her livelihood, probably before I was even born, and brought her two kids to make her home under a bridge. She has been living there ever since. The comparison between her life and mine over the course of 25 years is appalling. I found it incomprehensible that a person could live this way for so long…by choice. At the time her son was two years old. Now he is 25 and very sick. He had a job, but became too sick to work. She pointed to a box made of corrugated tin and said he was sleeping inside. Her daughter was working as a housekeeper, but it seems has lost that job too. I tried to process how she could have allowed life to continue down such a hopeless path. Even as I looked at her I could tell she had strength in her eyes, obviously it had gotten her this far. Why didn’t she use it to provide a better life for her family? Surely twenty years ago she would have been even more capable of doing so.
Imagine, living your life under a bridge. For most in the West it is something we can’t even wrap our mind around. The situation is not feasible with all of the protective structures set up by our society. But here in Addis the nightmare is a reality to nearly 90,000 human beings. Imagine. Life day in and day out on a cold, wet, dirty street. People pass by you going to work, a family, a destination of their choice because they can afford to. The matter of a few hundred dollars differentiates between a life on the streets and a life in a shelter. But is that the only difference? Or is it a matter of will? I’ve struggled over that question as I ask God how I should treat the countless beggars on the street. He would expect me to love them, but what does love look like in a situation like this?
I’ve dealt with feelings of pity and anger toward mothers that hold babies in their arms and beg in the streets. They are exploiting their children and perpetuating the vicious cycle of poverty by raising their kids in the street. But is it their choice? Obviously, it’s impossible for me to know their situations so I try not to judge, but as Habtamu has expressed with much passion there are other options. If a woman cannot provide for her child there are orphanages. Every time I am driving with Habtamu on Bole Road to and from the airport we get hounded by children begging in the streets. It’s particularly bad at night. They pick Bole Road because that is the “rich” area of town and more people are in cars rather than mini buses. At the intersections they come and put their hands in the window begging for money or asking you to purchase some tissues or gum for less than 10 cents. Haptamu explained that he gets angry because many of the kids are forced to work by their parents. Instead of going to school they are working towards a life of poverty. It is my heartfelt desire to see these children cross the bridge of opportunity instead of living under it…to see their future holding more hope than a birr dropped by a stranger. Hopefully, my time here will enable me to make that a reality for some of these street kids. No one deserves this kind of life whether they bring it upon themselves or not.
As Watt and Mastewal spoke with a man that is a permanent fixture under the bridge I noticed a woman lying on some tarps watching us intently. I walked over to her and asked Abraham to translate. She was very sick, but inviting. She even moved so I could sit on the tarp with her as if I had entered her living room. Meanwhile, people stared at us wondering what these foreigners were doing. It was difficult for her to talk because of a cough, but as I inquired of her situation she told us that she had left her home when her husband died during the famine. When she said this I didn’t think it could be possible because the famine she was referring to was over twenty years ago. Twenty years ago this woman lost her husband and her livelihood, probably before I was even born, and brought her two kids to make her home under a bridge. She has been living there ever since. The comparison between her life and mine over the course of 25 years is appalling. I found it incomprehensible that a person could live this way for so long…by choice. At the time her son was two years old. Now he is 25 and very sick. He had a job, but became too sick to work. She pointed to a box made of corrugated tin and said he was sleeping inside. Her daughter was working as a housekeeper, but it seems has lost that job too. I tried to process how she could have allowed life to continue down such a hopeless path. Even as I looked at her I could tell she had strength in her eyes, obviously it had gotten her this far. Why didn’t she use it to provide a better life for her family? Surely twenty years ago she would have been even more capable of doing so.
Imagine, living your life under a bridge. For most in the West it is something we can’t even wrap our mind around. The situation is not feasible with all of the protective structures set up by our society. But here in Addis the nightmare is a reality to nearly 90,000 human beings. Imagine. Life day in and day out on a cold, wet, dirty street. People pass by you going to work, a family, a destination of their choice because they can afford to. The matter of a few hundred dollars differentiates between a life on the streets and a life in a shelter. But is that the only difference? Or is it a matter of will? I’ve struggled over that question as I ask God how I should treat the countless beggars on the street. He would expect me to love them, but what does love look like in a situation like this?
I’ve dealt with feelings of pity and anger toward mothers that hold babies in their arms and beg in the streets. They are exploiting their children and perpetuating the vicious cycle of poverty by raising their kids in the street. But is it their choice? Obviously, it’s impossible for me to know their situations so I try not to judge, but as Habtamu has expressed with much passion there are other options. If a woman cannot provide for her child there are orphanages. Every time I am driving with Habtamu on Bole Road to and from the airport we get hounded by children begging in the streets. It’s particularly bad at night. They pick Bole Road because that is the “rich” area of town and more people are in cars rather than mini buses. At the intersections they come and put their hands in the window begging for money or asking you to purchase some tissues or gum for less than 10 cents. Haptamu explained that he gets angry because many of the kids are forced to work by their parents. Instead of going to school they are working towards a life of poverty. It is my heartfelt desire to see these children cross the bridge of opportunity instead of living under it…to see their future holding more hope than a birr dropped by a stranger. Hopefully, my time here will enable me to make that a reality for some of these street kids. No one deserves this kind of life whether they bring it upon themselves or not.
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