Thank You (28/8)

I’m not yet home, still a long way off, but I am at the end of my time in Mekele. A few days left to go in Addis, and maybe I’ll add a post-script. I don’t think is much more to say though. I’ve got a massive lump in my throat and the tears keep threatening…

I am amazed at how far around the world my blog has been read and I hope you have found my insights into my time in Ethiopia insightful, inspiring and moving. I never intended to ever write so much, but I just wanted to share it all with you –thank you for the perseverance! Maybe it has had an effect? Maybe it’s made you want to come and meet the children? Maybe you will…

Without sounding too negative, our achievements so far have been fantastic, but I won’t ever let myself be fooled into a false sense of security or satisfaction – I know what I have done here has helped out a small number of children in a small way for a short period of time. However, there is a long way to go and much work to be done. What I have learnt here is that there is not simply ‘lots of poor people’. There are many individuals that are suffering many individual heart-breaking difficulties, each of them has a story to tell – and it has been a privilege for me to listen and help out where I can. I have also learnt that there is much optimism and joy and hope and love. There are dreams about tomorrow and I just hope that in the future YOU may be one of the people that can help these people realise their dreams. It is a lot easier than you think…

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THANK YOU
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Firstly I’d like to thank the sisters who have welcomed me into their community of St Vincent’s for six weeks: Sr. Medhin Tesfay, the Coordinator of the Daughters of Charity in Tigray, Sr. Fisseha, Sr. Medhin Abraha, Sr. Fana, Sr. Desta and Sr Alganesh. You have been SO wonderful; we have shared many laughs and such joy – thank you for letting me share in your lives here in Mekele. You have got me through the difficult times and let me enjoy the good times. This thanks is extended to the many other sisters who we have met during our stay including Sr Abeba Hadgu (from Alitena) and Sr. Meaza (from St Louisa’s, Mekele). I extend my thanks to all the other staff at St Vincent’s who have also made my stay even more enjoyable and relaxed. It has been a much appreciated – a safe-haven in a hectic and sometimes difficult environment.

Secondly, I’d like to thank Tommy who has accompanied me on this amazing journey. His friendship, support and help have been unfaltering throughout. When two total strangers embark on such a mission together there will always be difficulties, but we have experienced something very special here together and it is something I will certainly never forget. I’d also like to thank John O’Callaghan whose second stay at St Vincent’s was perfect for him to show us around the town, introduce us to Enet (thanks also to Josie and Robbi!), and generally help us find out feet in Mekele. It was much appreciated! John Bradley joined us for the last week and it was nice to share all the initial experiences of Mekele, the project and the children again though him. I also feel very confident in leaving ‘our’ children in his capable hands and I know he will achieve great things with them. Good luck John!

I’d like to thank the CAFOD staff, without whom this whole trip would not have be possible. Denise for originally suggesting the idea to me (and encouraging me to actually get round to filling in the form!), Nicky and Heather in Brixton for all their very hard work before and during the trip, Seb and Debbie for their media advice, Helen and Sophie who came to visit us, as well as Bev (we’ll go dancing next time!), Jannie, Seamus, Hialu and all the other Addis-based staff who made sure we were very safe and happy. I extend this thanks to Anna, who as a volunteer last year, provided both endless advice and a few Birr – both of which were very handy!

My friends and family have also been fantastic at donating money, time and equipment for my time in Ethiopia. I honestly don’t think I would have even got packed without the help of my parents, and they have been supportive and encouraging throughout – I know they have also been forwarding this blog around and for that I am very grateful too. If I’ve made just one person think a little differently, then the many hours spent typing on the laptop into the night have all been worth it!

My extended family have been wonderful by sending boxes of stuff to me, donating money and getting the support and prayers of their parishes and local communities. I can’t thank you enough and will look forward to sharing all my stories with you in person and the next family ‘do’ – although my tan may not last until then! Maybe you can’t choose your family, but I think I’d choose mine again…

My friends have also been more than amazing. Hazel has been a constant source of inspiration and comfort, right from helping me fill out my application form sat in the Elms, to being in regular contact whilst I was actually in Ethiopia – I do still love to hear all the gossip! Nick has made a wonderful contribution to the lives of the children in the project with his songbook; it has already been photocopied many times and the majority of the songs are now familiar to them. Ciaran and Ash, my wonderful landlords who put up with all my stuff, helped me move house and still provided meals, first aid equipment and medical advice! Gill and Michael have both been an inspiration for teaching TEFL, providing advice, resources and help. Morgan also helped with the cutting of my hair and sharing concerns about rats. Tom has also put up a mirror of my blog for those in Ethiopia, which has been a great relief and help. All those who have text, emailed and facebook’ed me have also been a constant source of inspiration to keep on going! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

I must also thank the members of both tommcrae.com and shrimperzone.com. I have been overwhelmed with the kindness and generosity of ‘strangers’ who have made huge contributions to my trip. I found it very humbling and really have appreciated all that you have done for me. The Southend LDV flag will forever live on in Mekele…

The donations made by local businesses have also been put to good use. Thank you.

The staff, parents and students from St John Payne School in Chelmsford have also been fantastic. Donations, words of encouragement and friendly advice have all been much appreciated over the last few months. Special thanks must go to my form who were (of course) brilliant, Frank who was supportive from the beginning and the fantastic Religious Studies department who collected money from staff and students. The kindness of certain individuals, both staff and students, has meant so much to me and will never be forgotten. Thank you also to Dave (and Katie!) for the loan of a laptop – it’s still in one piece…

I am also grateful for the support of my Diocese: from Bishop Thomas, to Fr Dominic, Fr Britto and all those in Mid-Essex Deanery. I have received donations, kind words of support and offers of help from all number of individuals and organisations. Again, I am immensely grateful. Certain individuals made large donations, which have made a real difference in the project that the children will never ever forget.

I’d like to give a special word of thanks to Naomi whom I have been totally dependent on during my time out here. Not a day has gone by without a text message, phone call or email. It felt like she was here with me on the difficult days and I only wished she were actually here to share the amazing days. Her love, support, encouragement, reassurance, kind words and listening ear have really kept me going. I don’t know how I would have managed without her and I’ll never forget it. Thank you.

Last of all, I want to thank the staff and the children at the Abba Gebremichael Project. I could not have asked for greater kindness and hospitality. At the end of my time here, I feel as if I have received so much more than given. I am already confident that the words, gestures, fun times and difficulties will never ever leave me. There have been neither constraints nor boundaries in the love, friendship, care and generosity you have shown to me. I hope and pray that one day I’ll be back to see if you all kept your promises and made the most of every opportunity presented to you. I’m sure you don’t really need me to check up on you, but I’ll try all the same. You are amazing young people; more amazing than anyone who hasn’t met you can ever imagine.

I cannot mention everyone by name – there are far too many people who have shown enormous generosity, kindness and love to me. Some people have surprised me; others never let me down. I feel in a very privileged position to have such wonderful family, friends and colleagues. You have touched me to depths I never knew I had with every donation, however large or small and I have seen first hand what a difference it has made to the people here. Do not underestimate what you have done; I thank you on behalf of the staff and children. In the words of Yohannis (John), “Only God knows the words to thank you enough”.
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Ethiopia - Things I've Learnt...(27/8)

Some things that I have learnt about…

The People – Ethiopians are the most gracious and appreciative people you could ever have the pleasure to meet. Every single person I have met was genuinely interested in the work I was doing, and grateful in a way as if I was personally helping them. A girl said to Tommy in a bar one night, “Thank you for looking after the other half of my body. I have one half and the street-children have the other half”. I have shared coffee, beles and even meals with relative strangers who wanted to show how grateful they were for the work that I was doing not for them, but for their people. As for the children at the project, there really aren’t any good or appropriate enough words…

The Daughters of Charity – I have never met such dedicated, hard working yet joyful people in all my life. They take apostolic vows, rather than holy orders, which are renewed each year: poverty, chastity, obedience as well as service to the poor. These people are modern day disciples and examples for all. The most amazing thing is the grace and joy with which they complete their daily tasks working with the poorest of the poor. I’m definitely going to miss Sr Desta’s call of ‘Andoooo’ for lunch each day…

The Past is Ever Present”“ – Everyone in Ethiopia can give you a slightly different version of the story of Queen Sheba and King Solomon, a variation on the country’s history and tell you countless stories of the people and land of Ethiopia. I have picked up a fascinating book giving the Ethiopian Nativity story which several wonderful additions to it. Oxen are still frequently used in the fields, donkeys carry heavy loads around town and whilst in Alitena we experienced the death of a local being announced; shouted from miles away around the still, nighttime mountains.

Religion – If Britain is a secular society, Ethiopia is its antithesis. Every child you find knows the history of the Orthodox Church and all the church’s founding saints. There are literally thousands and thousands of churches everywhere you go, especially in the countryside. People bless themselves frequently, and always when walking past the front of a church. At any given time prayers and hymns echo around the towns being broadcast from the churches’ loudspeaker system. There are also Catholics, Protestants, Muslims all living in this country and never once have I heard a single utterance of religious intolerance.

The Future – This is a country full to the brim with hope and optimism. There is so much determination to better their lives with the little means available. I am yet to meet someone under the age of 30 who is not studying in some way or another, be it distance-learning, university, evening classes. This buoyancy is carried even further by the forthcoming Ethiopian Millennium (September 11th).

Ethiopian Culture – Regardless of the number of Man Utd shirts seen on any Ethiopian street, the culture and traditions of the people here are stronger than ever. The traditional hospitality and courtesy never seem to falter and again every person that you meet wants to desperately share and let you experience their culture. Traditional cultural dress is worn regularly, and a prized possession for many of the children.

Volunteers – I have been lucky to share this experience with numerous other volunteers. John O’Callaghan was here soon after my arrival, John Bradley has arrived to stay way beyond my departure and of course Tommy Dobbin has been here throughout. Despite all the sacrifices we have made, the hardships we have been through and of course the tears and the difficult days, I know for certain that not one of us has any regrets about what we have done. We have played a very small part in a far bigger situation, but we have made a difference. It is far easier that you think, and I just hope my writings have possibly made you think about being next year’s ‘John’, ‘Tommy’, ‘Andy’ or ‘John’. The people here are waiting for you with the coffee on the go and the door to their home open…

Poverty – This is not just a label. Here I have learnt about what poverty really is: it is people, just like you and me, who are living their lives in the face of terrible difficulties. They are suffering greatly from AIDS/HIV, famine, drought, disease, war, unemployment, no welfare state and a hundred other things. Every single person here has a story to tell you, and sometimes they just want you to listen because it makes things a little easier.

Children – Essentially, they are all the same the world over! When the sleep together in one room they stay up all night talking, they love football, they like to play Top Trumps, they love to sing and dance, they loved to be hugged, they love to be treated, they are inquisitive, they like computers and mobile phones, they like R’n’B and they try to hide when you are about to leave from Alitena!

Making a Living – In a country where is literally no jobs, it is very hard to make enough money to survive. You can get paid 8Birr a day for carrying heavy stones, you can buy ‘softies’ for 60cents and try to sell them for 1Birr, you can collect metal for 2Birr per kilo… Everyone and anyone would do anything to make the odd Birr. In the countryside you can walk every hour in the day, with a heavy load on your back just to make a little money to feed your family. Children work as soon as they can walk; they are either an economic drain or asset and as soon as they make that transition the better for the whole family. The people here have a very hard life for very little financial reward.

Solidarity – I have allowed myself to be taken into the world of these people. I have been taken to places that I never thought I would go (3rd Floor Café Bar to watch the Charity Shield) and done things I never thought I would do (sit, bouncing around on the back row of a bus full of street boys on mountain roads that were hand-chiselled into the rock!). There were times when I though to myself: shall I drink this? Shall I eat this? Shall I go here? Shall I do this? I am glad that nearly every time I said yes. I have shared everything I have with these people and I have been rewarded with the title ‘habasha’!

Technology – Power cuts, dial-up internet shared by 4 PCs, dodgy phone lines, no texting… I have learnt to value the communications network in the UK, but also begun to realise that actually its not that necessary after all. You get by, and spend more time speaking to people and making committed arrangements with friends. It’s been nice. I may need to convince those many hundreds queuing in Mekele to get one of the 45,000 SIM cards being made available in the city for the Millennium…

“You couldn’t make it up if you tried…” – A well used to phrase over here that has brought non-stop laughter and disbelief to all of us in Ethiopia. The stories, the mistranslations, the randomness, and the sheer amazement of the things we have seen, heard and experienced. This is one amazing country, filled a huge number of amazing people, doing many amazing things!

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What we spent your money on….

• A trip for 40 students to the Yohannis VI museum to learn about the history of Mekele.
• A trip for 20 students to the TPLF museum to learn about the modern political struggle of the people of Tigray.
• An overnight trip for 18 students to Alitena to play a game of football and generally enjoy themselves (perhaps too much!).
• Various educational resources that have helped us teach English to the students effectively. These are to be left for future volunteers.
• A large selection of Top Trumps and other card games.
• Equipment for the Sisters to continue their work across the 17 different projects working with the poor of Tigray.
• A certificate and photo for every child who has participated in English lessons.
• An exercise book and pen for every beneficiary – vital for their studies in Government schools which will resume in September.
• A selection of atlases, dictionaries and other ‘academic books’ for the project library.
• A large photo frame containing around 70 photos from our time in the project this summer (materials needed have been left with some of the artistic beneficiaries to produce the montage themselves)
• A smaller frame containing photos of the girls dressed for Ashenda to go in ‘their’ room (where the sewing and embroidery takes place).

The remainder of our fundraising, and this is actually the majority of the money, is going to be used to fund equipment for the new project building. CARITAS, CAFOD and others fund the on-going costs of the project work, and a generous anonymous UK-based company has paid for the actual building work of the new project. However, there is just simply very little money available to ‘kit out’ the new place. Tommy and I decided that through the above we have given gifts and experiences to the students of today, yet we wanted to leave a longer lasting testament to your generosity. Sr Medhin is going to keep me informed of exactly what the money is spent on, and hopefully include some photos! It is most likely to be essentials such as benches, desks, beds, white boards, shelving and so on. She looked relieved when we agreed to this; maybe we answer her prayers. No one we spoke to could really tell us where it would have come from otherwise. We both certainly felt this was a fantastic use of our fundraising and hope that you agree.

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In summation, this has been one of the biggest honours and privileges of my life. I don’t have one single regret about coming out to Ethiopia and being involved with the work of the Daughters of Charity here. It has been enriching and educational to me ways I never though possible, and struggle to imagine a way in which I could have learnt more about both myself and others.

Our leaving party from the project was very special; poems were read, presentations were made, gifts exchanged. We clapped, we danced and we shed a few tears. I was okay until Sr Medhin read the parable of the sheep and the goats - and re-read the last line about serving the least of the people… these maybe the poorest economically and socially children in Mekele but they have shown me friendship and love without any boundaries or conditions over the last 6 weeks. The maybe ‘the least’ in some respects, but they are equally ‘the most’ in many more.

I do hope to return in the not to distant future, after all we now have a big family to visit in Mekele, but in the mean time I have some amazing memories that I will cherish until the day that I die. I can’t wait to get home and share just a few of them with you all!

Alitena (26/8)

On Friday morning, after I had coffee with the man in the bank and he invited me to Axum to celebrate the Millennium with his family, we left for Alitena with 18 highly excited boys. The bus alone was an experience… I wasn’t sure if I was pleased or not when the boys pointed out my reserved seat in the middle of the back row. At least I had a good view of everything and everyone but I was thinking that over 5 hours sat here, some over rough terrain, was going to try out both my patience and the padding of my buttocks. It was the closest thing the boys were probably ever going to get to a holiday, so I went with it, and off we departed over the mountains for our two day trip to Alitena.

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Alitena could almost be lifted from the Alps; it nestles into 3000m+ mountains with only limited access from unmade winding roads. There were a lot prayers being said on the bus as our, luckily, expert driver negotiated various ruts, boulders and landslides. The boys taught me new ways to bless myself, which were much appreciated at times. I may have suffered from having various intimate parts of my body crushed as I flew sometimes a foot in the air with the bumps, but unlike, Tommy who was sat at the front, I didn’t have to look over every precipice!

We sang and we ate and we danced and picked up many people along the way. There is a few Birr to be made by offering a public bus service, even though there wasn’t really room, and we bought ‘color’ (roasted barley) and bananas – passed through the window - from people we met along the way. Much healthier than a Little Chef and a lot more fun! We also got surround by around 40 Ashenda dancers in one village and had to pay our way through…

We stopped in Adigrat, the centre of the Catholic Diocese that covers the Tigray region for lunch. Sr Fisseha and Sr Abeba (who was retuning home) went to find a restaurant and luckily a small hotel were accommodating. There was mass confusion from all when it came to ordering and the ‘new’ waiter really struggled! I found out later from one of the boys that most of the problems came from the fact we gave everyone a menu and told them to order whatever they liked. Most of them had never seen a menu, and if they had would head straight for the cheapest thing they could find. It was a real pleasure to see them ordering new things, getting a good bit of nutrition and protein down their necks and generally enjoying themselves. I watched with fascination as they quickly picked up on how to get the waiters attention, ask for more bread and all the other skills needed to negotiate an Ethiopian restaurant.

My appetite for injera had not really returned so I opted for the English, if not a little random, sounding ‘Hamburger with Rice’. It was 2Birr more expensive that the ‘Beef Burger with Rice’ and I assumed that it was a slightly better grade of meat. This was pretty much the last meal to appear from the kitchen, by which point the hotel manager was ready to swing at anyone after being continually aggravated by the ‘new’ waiter. Luckily John and Mikato were still waiting on their second dinner (they were sharing and so ate the first together, and waited for the second) so I had company. At which point a dried out little thing came out on a plate, “Sorry - no rice” (I was more sorry than him I think as I was pretty hungry!) and I would have put a large sum of money on it being a Tofu burger – it was certainly not meat. Only I could come all this way and have a sheep killed for me on Thursday and be presented with a veggie-burger on Friday. A commonly used phrase amongst us volunteers is “you couldn’t make it up if you tried”, and again we shared the sheer disbelief and comedy of it all.

We stopped at the Catholic Cathedral and learnt about the minor seminary (9th-12th grade – age 14+) and major seminary there, which have around 60 and 25 students respectively. This was good preparation for heading to the hotbed of holy orders, Alitena (I am yet to meet a priest or sister who is not from Alitena of there abouts). Various work was being done on the cathedral, presumably for the millennium, but the statue of Jesus on the top did look strikingly like superman. This naturally escaped the boys who were too obsessed with taking photos of themselves! Inside they were very reverent and appreciated all that the building had to offer – remember not one of them is Catholic but there was not one complaint even though our half hour stop over was taking up football practice time.

Around 5pm, we arrived at St Justin de Jacobis house in Alitena. This was built in 1973, but sadly occupied by Eritrean army forces for a long spell in the 90's and only recently re-acquired by the nuns around 2000. The sisters run various social development and pastoral programs have been implemented to improve the lives of those in the Irob Woreda (Irob District) – particularly in the larger towns of Alitena and Dawhan (nicknamed Dubai and Portsmouth by the locals – I tired so hard to find out why to no avail…). Strengthening the youth of the towns has been a priority – making them active members of the community involving themselves in HIV/AIDS prevention and addressing other social issues through clubs. They also speak yet another language here, Irobinian and so the usual greeting of ‘salem’ becomes ‘naga’ although most do speak Tigrinyian, Amharic and a little English too!

On our route, we have had come through Zelanbessa which was nearly completely destroyed by Eritrean bombing. It is heavily manned border post now, and although we were only checked twice by soldiers going to Alitena, we knew the checks would be far more regular and stringent coming back. The whole situation does feel very tense, and the sisters told us that most of the military presence is not actually visible. I’d counted a good few training camps, barracks, checkpoints and wandering soldiers so who knows what the actual presence in this area is. There are also curfews sometimes put in place at night making travel around the area impossible after dark – although perhaps that is a good thing given the precarious roads!

There are around a 100 people currently still ‘missing’ from Alitena. They are believed to be held somewhere unknown in Eritrea but no one is really sure. Many of these have been gone for over 10 years and include relatives of the sisters. We wanted to find out more about the war and the current situation, but there are still a lot of grief and hurt connected to the conflict so we have to ask our questions carefully. When it’s your first time to what is still classed as a post-war-zone it is difficult to work out how to behave.

Alitena is commonly known amongst the sisters as the ‘holy land’ and where nearly everyone we have met in Tigray who is Catholic is from. It was here that St Justin de Jacobis (who brought Catholicism to Ethiopia) and his follower, Abba Gebremichael, spent much of their time avoiding persecution.

The electricity to the village (population around 3,500) was only reconnected last year and there are still only two phone lines, which work on solar power. There is no employment here and no government assistance of any kind. There is still the threat of Eritrean invasion, and the small town really is on the front line. It has no economic benefits to Ethiopia, but is merely a political pawn – if Eritrea take Alitena (which has always, always been part of Tigray), then they will just keep on encroaching. Extreme poverty is caused by reoccurring drought and famine – although we saw relatively ‘green’ scenery due to this years heavy rainfall. That will hopefully mean for food this year and for next. We did see a few WFP (World Food Programme) buildings on the way in, but the sisters said they are rarely used, as the government ‘doesn’t like to admit they need help’. In many of the 20-30 hamlets and villages surround Alitena many families have only just returned to lives again after being ‘displaced’ by war. The mines were only swept 6 years ago, and Sr Abeba said that in the last you could hear the odd explosion set off by unfortunate cattle.

In Alitena, the sisters are maintaining a strong presence. The war may restart and they have to be ready for that; the three sisters who went with the refugees from the villages are no longer are no longer based St Justin’s and have retired to their home areas. They spent many years living in the mountains and caves with the people; it is hard to understand how these sisters willingly put themselves in this position. Sr Abeba simply said, “They went with the poor, that’s who they are here to serve.”

On the Saturday morning we visited the youth centre – where we played table tennis – the kindergarten and clinic. This is the only medical provision for a huge number of people in the surrounding area and its work is so vital to these people. It is run by Sr Bisrat and Alemesh – although Sr Bisrat had gone to Adigrat with two HIV patients so they could received treatment. Luckily it is only 2 hours by car, as the walk takes from 6am until 6pm – and that’s by the ‘short-cut’.

With the help of the sisters based here, there is a tremendous community spirit here. People rally round and show great unity and solidarity in any kind of crisis. The sisters promote cottage industries and saving schemes, they run a Woman’s Cooperative, the youth program, the Montessori kindergarten and the clinic. The people here are so dependent on outside support and help. They literally have nothing.

Why might you ask would we want to take the street boys to such a place?

Naturally, the answer was football. The Alitena team do not get a great deal of competitive fixtures and so using some of the money we had brought with us, we decided that our team could do with a small holiday, where we knew we would get first rate hospitality and some beautiful scenery.

Most of the boys had been no further than Wurko with John and Cahal; no more than 40km from Mekele. It was a really big deal for them to travel so far, for many it may well be the longest journey they ever make. During the trip we had to constantly remind ourselves what a big thing we were doing here, it is difficult to get a sense of perspective when your lives share so little in common.

Sitting down for dinner on the Friday, I wish I could have captured the moment of 18 ‘street boys’, sat around a long table, under the moonlight, surrounded by the mountains, eating all the food they could manage.

Saturday saw the football match (I was not picked after Friday’s training when I nearly died after running around for 30mins at 3000m!!), St Vincent’s beat Alitena 6-2 which saw the celebrations last way past Adigrat on the bus home… me Tommy and John spent most of the morning looking around, reflecting on the beauty and poverty. Alitena really is like turning back 100 years or so, but every single person we met was wonderfully welcoming and asking if next time we could stay for longer! The sisters there are desperate to volunteers to go and help them out, but due to a variety of reasons including the UNMEE (United Nations Mission in Ethiopia and Eritrea) and army presence and the sheer remoteness of the place Sr Medhin is reluctant to send them out there (unless like John, who was here for 3 and ½ weeks) they know exactly what they are letting themselves in for.

I would have loved to walk some of the mountain paths where stones have been laid or paths cut into the rock face with hammer and chisel by the locals (indeed the road in was built by bare hands 32 years ago!). Some of our boys had got up at around 6am and walked some of them with the local boys with whom they had become instant friends. I’d imagine, like on the bus, the scenery and views blew their minds. It certainly did mine!

The bus journey home was all the better for staying for a ‘feast’ at Saturday lunchtime where a goat was killed in our honour and devoured by the hungry boys. I quite enjoyed the meat, but perhaps that was as I had not met the goat before hand. I had also quite fancied slaughtering the cock that had started to crow outside our window at around 4am (coincidently the boys bed time! 18 boys in one room always was a recipe for sleep deprivation…). We were also treated to ‘gezum’, a local delicacy only reserved for the very best guests – Tommy and John did a quick escape leaving me to try it. I’m not sure I will ever have stuffed goat’s intestines again – but it wasn’t quite as bad as I thought it might be.

On our way home, we were checked numerous times by the army and police – we actually gave one army officer a lift from checkpoint to the next! Luckily we ‘passed’ every time and all the ID cards and school passes the boys had got them through without being suspected as Eritrean spies. We picked up more people, a car battery, some more ‘color’, 4 boxes of beles, empty glass coke bottles and all sorts – a bus journey through northern Ethiopia definitely has to be recommended for its randomness! However, seeing all the people walking for miles along the roadside carrying obiously very heavy loads, is a reminder that these people work very very hard for very little reward. The poor rural people of Ethiopia do live a very hard life.

As much as the boys loved their trip away, and had wanted to stay longer, they celebrated madly as we came over the mountain and saw the impressive sight of Mekele lit up at night. The shirts went out the window again and the clapping and singing started!

I do hope that this is a trip the boys won’t forget; for many reasons I certainly won’t. It was a relief to finally go to Alitena after hearing all John’s affectionate tales as well as it being the ‘homelands’ for every Catholic we meet. However, it is hard to imagine the lives of these people without the work of the Catholic Church. As Tommy pointed out, it’s a bit like a church with a load of beds attached! The people of the region are totally dependent on the education, medical care, social care, food, and everything else the sisters and the church provide. It is hard to comprehend without seeing it for yourself, but the work that takes place here is nothing short of truly amazing. I wish I could have helped out more in my short stay there; but it would be hard to forget Alitena and it’s wonderful people.

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Sunday saw Aziz’s graduation and we had a big lunch celebration for her. In the evening we took her and the two other girls (Medhin and Alem Sahi) who are currently working at St Vincent’s to Yordano’s for dinner. A really pleasant evening, but it is starting to feel like we are going home…

TPLF (23/8)

Today I took my first ‘bagagg’, a little 4-stroke motorbike with some seats tacked on the back; they are very cheap little taxis with any ride costing 1Birr. I also had my first ‘bableno’ (a greasy, donut-like cake), which was absolutely gorgeous, and I am annoyed at myself for not sampling earlier! On top of this, I found printing digital photos is quite reasonable, but photocopying on to card is a total rip off… however every student in Abba Gebremichael will now have a certificate and a photo of Tommy and I as their parting gift on Monday.

In our second trip, we travelled through Adi-Haki (dodging Ashenda girls, it goes on for 3 days and is costing me a relative fortune!), up the hill to the ‘Monument’. There were a nice number of boys with us who were excited and looking forward to experiencing some of the more modern history of the region. To understand a little more about why this museum is important and why it had such a profound effect on some of the boys, it is important to understand a little about Ethiopian political history and some of what the people of this country have had to endure.

The TPLF, or Tigrayan People's Liberation Front, or even ‘Weyane’, are a political party in Ethiopia. They form part of the coalition that has ruled Ethiopia since the last election in 2005. The Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Deomcartic Front (EPRDF) won 327 of the 527 available seats, and the TPFL actually make up the biggest proportion of the EPRDF. There are many Tigrinyian’s sitting in governement, which gives great prominence to the region. In the regional elections, the TPFL won all 152 seats in Tigray.

The TPLF began in 1975 as the armed force, which together with Eritrean People's Liberation Front, fought against the authoritarian Derg regime of Mengistu Haile Mariam. EPRDF took power after the final collapse of the Derg in 1991. They then retained their power after an election victory in 1995, the first ever real election for the Ethiopian people. However, most opposition parties chose to boycott these elections; observers concluded that opposition parties would have been able to participate had they chosen to do so but this was still not true democracy.

Prime Minister Meles Zenawi's government was re-elected in 2000 in Ethiopia's first multi-party elections and then another general election was held in May 2005, which drew a record number of voters; 90% of the electorate turned out to cast their vote. However all was still not well: the opposition complained that the EPRDF engaged in rigging and intimidation. EPRDF complained their main opposition, the CUD (The Coalaition for Unity and Democarcy) had also engaged in intimidation. This lead to the massacre of 193 protestors by Ethiopian police, mainly in Addis Ababa, during protests in June and November of 2005.

Under the present government, the Ethiopian people enjoy greater political participation and freer debate than ever before in their history. On the other hand, there are some fundamental freedoms that are still not available including freedom of the press, and the writing of webblogs and the sending text messages! A few priest who visited us at St Vincent’s acknowlegd that whilst there are worse African contries to live in, that Ethiopia was pretty much still a dictatorship in disguise.

These recent polictics strugles are relatively minor in light of what they proceed: ‘The Derg’. This group was a miliatary junta that came to power after the overthrowing of Emporer Jaile Selassie in 1974. Derg means ‘committee in Ge’ez and is the short name for the ‘Coordinating Committee of the Armed Forces, Police, and Territorial Army’; their rule lasted until 1987. The Derg executed and imprisoned tens of thousands of its opponents without trial in a terrible period of history for Ethiopia. Campaigns such as ‘Red Terror’ and enfroced resettlement programmes displaced millions and around 100,000 reportedly lost their lives in the resettlement programmes alone.

The famines of the 1980’s brough Ethiopia to the attention of the world, an image that many people still have of this country. Controversially, some funds raised for the people ended up in the Derg’s hands, as they controlled several NGO’s (Non-Governmental Organisations). The Derg repeatidly failed the people they were in place to serve and there are countless stories of how much needed aid never reached the people who were staving to death, particually in the north of country. The resentment has still not been overcome; this, afterall, is very modern history and in many a living memory.

The Derg government officially came to an end in 1987 upon the formation of the People's Democratic Republic of Ethiopia. However, Major Mengistu Haile Mariam remained in power as President of the new government, as he had done since 1974.

1991 finally saw the end of the Mengistu governement as a coalition of rebel forces, including a very large contingent from the TPLF, took over Addis Ababa. The EPRDF had succeeded. By December 2006, 72 officials of the Derg were found guilty of genocide.

And so, the TPLF are now based in Mekele and have built a large monument, museum and conference centre to remember all those who died in the long struggle for freedom in Ethiopia. Many Tigrinyian’s sacraficed their lives to liberate the country – starting with the north – from the evil Derg regime. The 51m high tower, reaches over the whole of the city creating a striking and poigniant reminder to what these people suffered. It was built in 1993 and as well we being a memorial, it also house a museum which features TPLF equipment, weaponry and many many photos. Progress is also celebrated at the complex with a state of the art theatre, conference and arts centre. It was here that the Abba Gebremichael drama group won a recent award – third in Tigray.

Very little seems to have been written about the post-Haile Selassie Ethiopia, book shops look at you blankly, yet I have been fortunate enough to have been loaned a hisotrical novel entitled the Meaza of Ethiopia wirtten by a white farther living in Adigrat called Kevin O’Mahoney. It had me in tears in places descirbing stories of broken families due to the Derg regime, yes it is a novel but it is based upon true events. I hope to meet the athour this weekend and acquire a few copies to bring home to share with others the tragedy that took place here way beyond ‘the Live Aid famines’ of 1984. It is heartbreaking that alongside the poverty, drought and famine there was a governemnet in place who had no regard for human life in any capacity.

The boys were visably moved, and some of them listed family members who had TPLF involvement. Stories of the revolution seem to be passed on by friends and family and so there was a certain mythical and legend slant to many of the stories. There was great respect for those who had given up their lives, and great pride for those who were now in powerful governement positions. The Tigray region has a very solid and distinct idenity; maybe that’s why nearly every boy in the project headed down to the stadium this morning to watch Tigray U17s win 5-0. Maybe they are just fed up of me and Tommy’s English lessons…

It was certainly another worthwhile outing, but we spent too much time there (surprise surpise, lots of photos!) and missed dinner. Having a great sense of responsbility we tried to treat all the boys to dinner at a restaurant, we managed to convince them to share injera but nothing more. Around ten boys were fed on less than £2.

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One of the boys today gave me some photos which he had signed on the back, bascially saying thank you. It was a simple but touching gesture and these small items I will treasure and look upon and remember all the good times. I arranged to meet this oy to go to Photo Desta to pick up all our photos, he was keen as I had developed a few extra for him and some of the others who have made a big effort to look out for us. He wasn’t about so I went on my own…

As soon as I got home, my mobile rang (the one CAFOD lent me for my time here) and it was the boy wondering where I was. Theere are loads of ‘phone shops’ where you can mke calls from and I guess the boys call me so often as they really enjoy going in and making a phone call, to a mobile phone, and then speaking in English. I guess, if only for a little while it transports them into that world of which they hope and dream to be one day really part of.

Whoeever gets the phone next just better be wary of Danny, Gary and the boys phoning them up!
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Just to let you know Tommy nor John nor I ate very much of Stuey… he tasted pretty horrible and I don’t understand why they don’t kill the poor sheep a little earlier as they meat is so touch and chewey! Irene, the German lady from CARITAS was the only one to make a real statement about it…

Ashenda & ‘Stuey’ (23/8)

Everyone had given me a very sceptical look when I said that I was going to go to 5.30am mass, as it was only an hour (6.30am mass was 2 hours plus). I had the best intentions; it was a holy day of obligation – even though it fell a week later than the rest of the Catholic world. My alarm duly went off at 5.15am, it didn’t feel too bad, but as the church is less than a minutes walk away I thought I could allow myself just 5 minutes more in bed…

I re-awoke at 8.45 and Tommy and John were still not back from 6.30am mass! The majority of the service is standing and all in Ge’ez so not a word was understood. I felt bad and decided that any child from the project I saw today I would get some food for. It wasn’t exactly following the Catholic Church’s teaching, but I thought that God would probably forgive me on this occasion. I probably would have also bought the children food too regardless of whether or not I missed mass.

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Today is Ashenda. This is a cultural festival that falls on the Assumption. It’s day for the girls and our girls from the project have been excited and preparing for weeks.

I was already in the good books with the girlies as I had provided them with a big bag of hair bobbles, ribbons, ties et cetera from kind people back at home. For the previous few days I had had lots of ‘thank yous’ and hugs from them. It’s hard not to have a big soft spot for the girls at the project; they are relatively new and are a very small minority. The boys often take most of our attention, but a simple smile to one of the girls sees their faces light up. They are so sweet and I do love it when they drag themselves away from embroidery and needlecraft sessions to come to my English lessons. I always make a fuss of them and try my best to build their often very low confidence. It’s also nice to have a conversation that isn’t about football…

I had been about to begin (honest!) my work for the day, when I could hear the sound of the drum banging and ‘ashenda, ashenda’ being sung repeatedly from nearby. I came around the corner from my room and saw all 20 of our girls dancing around the main courtyard of St Vincent’s looking absolutely beautiful in white cotton dresses with blue embodied flowers.

They were so full of joy, fun and happiness. I can’t remember when I last saw such big smiles. The thought of it now, late on in the evening, has brought back a grin to my face. Tommy, John and I were dragged into the dancing and I was relieved I had been practising! Zanta grabbed me and fought the other girls off as we danced around, clapped and posed for photos.

It is tradition that on Ashenda the girls get dressed up in their best cultural clothes and spend three days singing and dancing around town. They surround and pester any males they come across until they pay them some money. This is then held up and the girls make their way on around the town. A few coins get you off the hook and there is no bad feeling from anyone.

This year the project had provided them with new outfits. I asked Sr Fisseha about this over dinner and she told me what had happened last year… The girls had not gone round Mekele together. There were two groups; one just went around a small area near their houses and only collected a very small amount of money, the other visited St Vincent’s, local cafés and other local places businesses collecting a large amount of money. The two groups wouldn’t go round together and this upset Sr Fisseha. However, without encouragement, this year they decided to go around together. Sr Fisseha was naturally delighted, but decided to get them the outfits when she heard about how the uniting happened: the girls who had made lots of money last year were really upset that the others hadn’t made much and this year insisted that they all go round together.

The transformation from the timid and shy girls in Abba Gebremichael to happy, joyful young ladies dancing for Ashenda was completed when Zanta, after our dance, grabbed me from behind and gave me a big hug and kiss. This lead to everyone getting in on the act and there was hugs and kisses going on all over the place. I really can’t put it all into words, but I know it will be one of the best memories from my time in Ethiopia.

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Later on, I found out John had taken the boys out for lunch. He had been taken on a ‘football tour’ of the town and was shown the stadium and training pitches, and he ‘rewarded’ them with food. I’m not naïve enough to think that they didn’t know what they were doing – but reassuring to know they don’t expect anything for nothing and provided an expert insight into their lives and the most important buildings in town first!

I then found them loitering near Guna; the trouble is without the project there is also nothing to break up their day. I told them I needed help putting names to faces on a few photos printed out and that I would take them for juice for their help. They were a bit reluctant to come with me, and said that John had already taken them for lunch. I joked and said I wasn’t going to buy them cake- only juice, Mirinda or tea - and they came along smiling.

I was tired and didn’t actually feel in the mood for the conversation which can be very draining, but I remembered what I had said to myself this morning and I also knew, the sensitive souls that they are, that the boys probably felt a bit left out of Ashenda – even though they get most of the attention most of the time! I was also aware that they are already getting upset about us leaving, and I know that as soon as I step into Heathrow airport, I’ll be looking at what time the next flight to Addis Ababa departs….

We actually had a good hour and a half of chat in Milkano – I know most of the waitresses in there now and my tipping must have been adequate enough as the service gets better and quicker with each visit! Daniel took me through the CDs of Tigrinyian and Amharic music he has bought for me; I sent him out with 40Birr and he has come back with two custom made CDRs with both modern and traditional music on. I encourage the boys to take a few Birr when they run errands, and I know if anything they would undercharge me (as Gary tried when I sent him to photocopy the songbook – another 20 copies were required so EVERYONE could join in).

The conversation moved on and after making Gebreyohannis stand up and name every part of his body in English (VERY funny), it came on to Ashenda. This lead to a group of sullen faces; Ashenda as well as being a time for girls, is a time for the family. I pointed out to Gary that at least he was with a big group of his friends, and he simply replied, “It’s not a family though is it?”.

I did feel terrible about even contemplating not taking these boys out today. It is difficult when you are living it all day everyday, having to make decisions about what you will and won’t do, what will be of benefit, what will cause more problems in the long run and so on. I was reminded of the ‘starfish’ story that I heard for the first time from Fr Dominic; a man sees another man walking along the beach picking up starfish and throwing them back into the sea so they don’t dry out. There are thousands scattered up and down the shore and the first man, puzzled asks, “What are you doing?”. “Throwing the starfish back into the sea so that they don’t die.”, the second answers. “But there are so many here, you’ll never possibly save them all.”, says the first man. The second man picks up another starfish and throws it into the sea, “Made a difference to that one.”

I was quizzed on when we were leaving and the boys were working out so we could spend as much time as possible at the project on Tuesday before we fly. They also asked me to arrange some things for them before we leave… firstly they are desperate for certificates! At this point, Efram produces a pristine certificate from 2 years ago produced my Michael and Maria from inside his exercise book. I have no idea how it has been kept so smart, but it suddenly dawned on me that for many of these children, perhaps the English certificates produced by volunteers will be the biggest academic achievement that they will ever receive.

Secondly, they want photos of us to keep. Many of them have little business card holder-type wallets with a variety of photos in. They seem very important to many of them and many have a story for each picture. I guess when you have so little, the memories of the good times are hugely important. I said I would see what I could do, a little apprehensive about going into photo Desta to ask for 100 copies of a photo of myself…

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At dinner, Sr Fisseha, who has been on the workshop wanted to know if Tesful had been back to the project. I said that he hadn’t, but perhaps due to his involvement in the football. She said that as soon as we get back from Alitena she will visit his house and speak to the neighbours about possible relatives to look after the children. It is not looking like a strong possibility as since the father died 12 years ago there has been no relative support even though the mother only worked as a cleaner at a hotel for food scraps. Sr Fisseha was a little frustrated as she wished she knew the mother was ill. She explained to me that the project does all it can to give medical care to parents; it’s better to fund a little medical care for a parent than care for two or three orphans. The cost of a little medicine really can make a difference out here; its just many cannot afford even a few Birr to help themselves and their family.

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Lastly, my adventures eating meat again after many years (mainly due to Ethiopians having even less of an idea about vegetarianism that then French) may be very short lived.

Ethiopians fast on a Wednesday and Friday (no meat or dairy) and so the feast for the Assumption is to take place on Thursday. However, the meat for the feast arrived the day before.

Unfortunately he was still running around and going ‘baaaa’.

Tommy, John and I are having real issues with the fact the sheep will be slaughtered, butchered and then turned into wat (stew) tomorrow at St Vincent’s. It wouldn’t have been so bad had I know made friends with ‘Stuey’ the sheep first, thinking he was here to eat a few weeds and keep the grass down. The sisters are all very excited and I think Naomi’s suggestion of a freedom mission with my new friend would not have gone down well. I’d also have to get ‘Stuey’ past the guard and he is pretty noisy and the guard is also the butcher…

Pizza (22/8)

Today was a tough lesson for us both.

There was a strange atmosphere in the project. Everyone today realised that we had just one week left and there was a raw emotion from many of the children who were almost panicking about us leaving. I found this a little difficult to deal with. Daniel had listed off 20 volunteers in the café the night before to me, giving a story about each, which had been on my mind a lot as I tossed and turned in bed. What I have done here will really leave a lasting impression. That’s a nice feeling in many ways, but creates lots of other emotions that didn’t help my current confused and mixed feelings.

We had brought John along to the project this morning; introduced him and told the children about how he was going to carry on their English lessons. The children had thought we organised John’s arrival for them, to lessen the blow of us leaving. I think at this point, if I could have somehow slipped out the back door, I really would have been more than happy.

Tommy has been wearing white a "Make Poverty History" plastic wristband. He had a supply brought from SCIAF and had been discretely distributing them to the children if and when they asked about the message on it. There was a certain irony about these very poor children wearing them with such pride, but I knew they agreed with the message, and when one of the boys came up to me and proudly said, “We need to help those people who are living in poverty”, I wanted to ask him if he knew that he was one of the people that needed help to get out of poverty. He obviously didn’t consider himself to be suffering the effects of poverty, even as he was stood there with holes in his shoes and no place to call home.

I have no idea how the situation arose, but all of sudden everyone wanted one of these bands and we lost total control. Tommy knew that he didn’t have one for every child and I felt really sorry for him as he ducked and dived trying to avoid eye contact. All of a sudden smiles turned into dagger-eyes and sheer dejection as shouts of “me, ME!” could be heard echoing around. There was near blows from some of the boys. I actually found it all a little scary.

We are both guilty of forgetting what life is like as a street child. Everything takes on different meaning and significance. All of a sudden, these worthless items became a powerful personal gift. Perhaps they were seen as a token of love, or of acceptance? It was upsetting for Tommy as he had only the very best of intention and the experience ended up being one of great distress.

It was another reality check, if we had had the chance to become complacent, about the reality of this unique world. I also still remember that these are the very same boys who would share every Birr they had, their one meal of the day or their tatty Man Utd shirt with me if they thought I needed it.

Yesterday, just before leaving for lunch, Thgebrehan (the sports coach) had used his barber skills to re-shave my head and turn my full-on beard into a goatee (“like the habashsa”). I had been a little hesitant to jump in the chair, knowing the same clippers had just been used on a succession of the street children, but ‘carpe diem’ and all that. Luckily Thgebrehan used both alcohol and lit alcohol to clean the clippers. I had about 40 boys crowded round me loving every minute of my haircut. Not one bit of my hair got near the floor as it was snatched up by the boys to keep – they had never had a piece of faranji hair in their possession! “It’s SOO soft!”, the cries went. Thgebrehan was very nervous about cutting my hair, but I think he ended up enjoying it. He did an excellent job and I was even more one of the boys now; I’d had my hair cut ready for Ashenda!

Ashenda was to be celebrated the following day. This is both a religious (Assumption according the Ethiopian calendar) and a cultural day, and as a consequence the project was to be shut. The news was told to the class, and rarely have I seen such dejection and sorrow in young faces. I was in full flow of teaching about adverbs and the lesson never really recovered.

After the afternoon session, the day’s task was to see if we could get John’s guitar repaired. British Airways had let him down and the neck was nicely broken into two parts. We began walking with a few of the older boys, as well as the usual crowd. By the time we reached the square, about half a mile down the road, we must have been 40 strong. No-one wanted to leave us.

Again, we hadn’t thought things through. No project means no food. Tuesday lunchtime to Thursday breakfast is a long time for anyone, let alone a growing and active teenager who is sleeping rough somewhere. These situations are incredibly difficult to deal with; there are all kinds of thoughts going on. Do you feed those that you can? Do you feed none of them to be ‘fair’? Do you feed those who will hang around not far from St Vincent’s in the vague hope you’ll walk by and offer to take them for injera? Do you organise a time to meet? Do you leave it to chance? Do you give them a bit of money and tell them to sort themselves out? Do you let them chose where to eat? All these questions and a thousand more were racing through my head.

Feeling a little cowardly, I really didn’t want to address the situation, and I was feeling a little relieved that I had a lot of work to do on my laptop the following day. I could also sense John’s feelings of difficulty as a new comer to this situation. He wanted guidance and I had no idea what to say.

We left the boys outside Guna Sports Bar, their favourite haunt. I took John to meet Jose and Robbi in Enet, there wasn’t much conversation as we were both feeling terrible. Just for effect, I think, it started to rain. The boys would be wet now too…

I am glad that we had already made the decision to go to Yordano’s for dinner. I feel terrible for saying this now, but pizza brought great comfort, as did the two glasses of Axumite (Ethiopian sweet red wine). Me, Tommy and John spoke at length about what had happened over the last few days and tried to sort out some of our emotions and feelings. We had only known John for 24 hours but he had a quick introduction to life with the street children and the joys and pains that come in quick succession. They don’t give you a minute to think and maybe that is the best way most of the time.

A Redraft (21/8)

Sundays, like back at home, are often a day of doing as little as possible and last Sunday here was very similar. We had all gone to mass at the Don Bosco school on the Saturday night so I knew that I could have a lie in – Orthodox chanting (wailing) and drumming dependant – and then get away with doing relatively little all day. This is obviously great, but does give you too much time to think – and if you’ve never been warned before – thinking is a very dangerous pastime.

Actually, Sunday morning meant a trip up to the football stadium. I was up at 8am and found a note under my door from Tommy (as per usual, he was up first!). There are regional football finals taking place in the Mekele Stadium over the next week or so and two of the beneficiaries are playing in the Under 17 team. One is a boy called Haftom who was a brilliant student in my class for the one English lesson he turned up for (and we laugh about this together now), the other was Tesful who had lost his mother on Friday.

A group of the boys who attend the project had been selected to set off the fireworks for the opening ceremony and then act as ball-boys. At first I found this a little odd, that when the city was making a big fuss of this tournament – stadium repainted, lots of VIPS etc- that they would ask ‘the streetboys’ to take charge of these prominent and important jobs. However, they completed their jobs with commitment and diligence. I guess it’s not just me and Tommy and the sisters who realise just what potential these children have, regardless of the label they have. I certainly felt a little guilty for my initial thoughts and took great pride watching them carry out their jobs.

By this point, Tommy and I had been moved into the grandstand with all the aforementioned VIPS. We were told by some of the Tigray football officials that we were very honoured guests – we were the only two white people in a crowd of over a thousand – and even ended up getting seats with the sports ministers and other important Ethiopian FA officials. Maybe, like the boys, they thought we were Rooney and Ferguson on their summer holidays! We didn’t really want to, and naturally made sure that the boys could still come and find us (dodging the federal police with their rifles), but felt it would cause more offence if we didn’t sit there!

Tigray won 3-1. Afar walked off the pitch after the third goal, but later returned after officials and the previously mentioned federal police intervened. Haftom was on the bench, got warmed up, but never came on. Tesful was in the stand and we both went and gave him a big hug. The whole Tigray squad were all wearing black armbands as an act of solidarity and Tesful also told me that a group of the boys had been coming over to his house to help him and his sister who is just 11. When Daniel was falling asleep in my lesson on Monday I knew exactly where he had been all night.

The first of the Sisters guests had arrived by lunchtime. They are holding a four-day planning workshop with CARITAS Germany who are the biggest donor to the street children project. Since the last budget was worked out, the project have begun providing food for all beneficiaries and there are still some things CARITAS don’t fund such as social work for the families as well as the students and the loaning of capital to older beneficiaries to help them get on their feet. Sr Medhin, Sr Fisseha and Sr Abeba (who worked with the project before moving to Alitena) have a long week of target setting, evaluations and forward planning – we’re all hoping and praying that everything goes to plan so the good work can continue.

For me the afternoon was spent largely on the settee talking to Sr Fisseha and Sr Abeba. Tommy also joined us and we discussed whether or not on the following Saturday we would be going on from Alitena to Axum for some sightseeing or not. It was decided that we would not.

We have done a minimum of visits outside of the project, but we are both happy with that. Our visits have largely involved the children, and I certainly wouldn’t have had it any other way- next time, I want them to come to Marian Korkor too! I came here to work with the children of Abba Gebremichael; I can come back some day to be a tourist. Going to Axum would have also meant not watching football with the boys on Sunday, and possibly losing half, if not all of Monday – our last full day with these very special children in Mekele.

I guess the fact that we were only here for a short time longer was beginning to dawn on us.

We both agreed that actually we hadn’t dealt with, nor properly processed, much of what we have seen, heard and experienced. Its not like we haven’t had the chance, there has been time, and Tommy and I (and John when he was here) talked about the children for hours on end. I guess I feel like while I am here I can look after them, and teach them, and take them to dinner, and keep them out of trouble. In a weeks time I’ll be on a plane home, to a place many thousands of miles away.

I do feel ready for home though; there are a lot of mixed emotions going on. I am missing a lot of things and a few people very very dearly. Africa is a long way from Essex, and for a first time doing work like this, 6 weeks is a long enough time. It was frustrating and upsetting that the two calls I got on Sunday evening from Naomi and my mother were on such bad lines that I couldn’t hear a word they said. I really needed to chat, but it wasn’t to be. I then returned to my room and wrote what was my most depressing, pessimistic and negative blog entry yet. It focused on all the very sad things I had seen and heard and I forgot about the love and joy and happiness and hope that I have experienced here alongside all the difficulties.

Luckily, by Tuesday I still had not posted it because I knew where it needed to go – into the ‘recycle bin’. That explains the back log of entries, for which I apologise.

It is very easy to have days when you feel what you are doing here is just a drop in the ocean. You feel that whatever you are doing it is just a very brief moment in the lives of these children. I’ve taught them English for an hour today, but where are they going to sleep? I’ve taken them for a mango juice, but where will they eat on Sunday? I’ve taken them to the museum for the afternoon, but how are they ever going to get a job? I was also think a great deal about Tesful and his sister, I was thinking of Marc, another beneficiary aged 10, whose roof has fallen in on his house (his father is disabled and does not leave his bed), I was thinking of the homes I had been to visit, I was thinking about going home to my life and all my comforts.

I have been warned that the transition back home is harder than the one out here. Actually it is quite easy to get used to the children and their lives. As soon as you know a poor person and they becomes a human being, it is easy to love and to care for them. During the last 5 weeks we have got to know some of the poorest children living in one of the world’s poorest countries; yet I have also been taught so much. About love; about hope; about dreams; about service; and about truly caring for others.

Monday evening saw the arrival of John Bradley, another Irishman. He has taken a leave of absence from his job as an accountant with PriceWaterhouseCoopers to spend 3 months with the Sisters. He is another Vincentian Lay person, like John O’Callaghan. I was lead to believe he was just 20 years and about to take the ‘Ma Mouche’ title from me, but after a lot of ‘pulling my foot’ (!?) by the sisters, they revealed that he was actually 27.

I found it a really positive experience to feel that someone would directly be following on from us. I didn’t want to ruin his experience by giving him too much information but after the project we took him to Milkano with a large group of the boys. There were many of the usual suspects who join us each day who I know will look after John, as they have done us.

These are the group that have the strongest English, and enjoy helping us out with shopping and other errands around town. They have made a big effort from the start and seem to be the group that always ends up spending most time with all the volunteers. They are also the group that includes those who are more ‘street’ that others in the project as many have nowhere to actually call home. I guess it also about survival and they know that they will be looked after in return for their friendship and ‘guard skills’. – They are very concerned about me and Tommy staying in Addis as the ‘tiefs’ (theifs) even steal cars there!

One such of these is Mogus, one of Tommy’s students and aged just 12. Me and him have gone past the handshake-shoulder stage to developing our own handshakes which he loves. I’ll shake his hand all day long, as it brings a smile to otherwise tired and sad eyes. He sleeps in a sports bar; only allowed in at closing time and not allowed in during the day.

We teach yet another Ethiopian how to take a photo with a digital camera (you cannot buy one in Mekele and it is great amusement to all here) and the waitress takes a fantastic group picture of us all enjoying our juice. Even Mogus has a big grin.

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The boy who gave Tommy the note asking if I would take him back to England with me today plucked up the courage to ask me if I had got it. I said yes. He just stood their grinning, hands behind his back.

I’ll never know what he thought I was going to say.

I said thank you, but that it was not possible and had to walk away before I burst into tears.

48 hours on I still don’t know what I should have said. He didn’t come to the project on Tuesday. I felt like crap.

School Trip 18/8

A ‘school trip’ has the power to create great excitement amongst children, and a feeling of apprehension amongst organisers. A few days organisation and me and Tommy’s afternoon ‘off’ to see the Emperor Yohannis IV museum in Mekele had turned into a full scale outing for the children of Abba Gebremichael. There were no complaints on our part, but we were a little unsure of how exactly it would work out…

Luckily we had had another easy going morning, the under 14’s team had a fixture and there was yet again mass exodus down to the football ‘field’. This was at one of the training pitches that had been bulldozed just a few days before, and coupled with the rain, had produced a mud bath! The opposition team did not turn up and so we enjoyed the spectacle of around 40 youngsters tearing around for an hour and half sliding over and falling in puddles, half disappearing into trenches and all round general comedy. It was quite a scene walking back through the streets all caked in mud, but as always, smiling. It was back to the project for clothes washing, showers and a semi-naked parade by the boys who just wanted to be photographed whilst posing in their pants!

Emperor Yohannis IV ruled Ethiopia from 1872 until 1889 and came to power after beating Emperor Tekle Giyorgis at the battle of Asum on 11th July 1871. He had previously been a powerful lord, known as Kasa Mercha of Tigray; one of three that ruled over Ethiopia whilst the British still had presence in the country. After they left, Emperor Tekle Giyorgis claimed control over the whole country, but Kasa Mercha was not prepared to ignore his ambition for supremacy and was eventually crowned in Axum.

Given that both his original territory was in the north of the country and that the Italian and Egyptian empires were growing and becoming a threat in the north, Emperor Yohannis IV chose Mekele as one of his main bases, building a large castle on top of the hill in the middle of the city. It is this building which now houses the museum detailing the older history of Mekele.

It is a half hour walk from the project to the museum and the heat was blistering. As usual, Ethiopian’s still think that this is relatively cool weather, but Tommy and I were breaking a decent sweat! It was a pretty impressive procession as we walked down the middle of most roads, with the little taxis swerving to avoid us. It’s very common for many teenage boys and men to hold hands as they walk down the street; it is a strange sight at first and one that took a little getting used to. Whereas in Western culture it would only be couples holding hands, here it’s all the men! It’s worth noting that alongside text messages, and web blogs, homosexuality is illegal here too.

However, the boys were desperate to hold our hands whilst periodically stopping and insisting on wiping our sweaty palms on their jumpers. I tried to stop them, but they were having none of it. In the way that they always carry our bags, the way in which these children care us for is nothing short of amazing, and often very humbling; anything they can do for us, they will. Other examples of this include Aquello who used his bare hands to scrape the mud from my shoes after the football, or Ifram who today paid 50cent to buy me a couple of beles. You can try to stop them, but its hard to win!

Tommy ended up covered in mud as the boy he was walking with refused to let go of his hand as they went round a puddle and ended up falling in after attempting to mount the curb. It did look pretty funny, but I’m sure Tommy did not fully appreciate the humour of the situation until later on in the day! Gebreyesus wanted to spend 1Birr on some tissues to clean him up, but Tommy refused. This was yet another example of their kindness and generosity towards us, remember an average worker gets paid just 7 or 8Birr a day – these boys have no jobs, earn a few cents where they can, and still will give their last cent to us if we’d let them. They willingly share anything they have, and their only concern is with others. This is a boy who often sleeps on the street and considers himself lucky as a local hotel lets him eat their leftovers.

On an interesting side note, I also had my first proposition from an Ethiopian girl who, as we walked through the busy city centre, asked if she could hold my hand instead of the boys. The boys got very excited about this saying ‘habasha chick, habasha chick’ (local girlfriend) and she got very embarrassed. I was equally red faced, but it was a nice reminder that as well as humbling you, these boys will also set you up for a laugh!

For most of the children, this was their first visit to the museum. Government school visits to the museum are reserved for the top few students in each class, so again we were able to transport our children into a great-unknown world. However, it was one they embraced and appreciated more than I can put into words. They were so grateful and interested in every word the guide had to say, some even got out their notebooks making notes on their city’s history.

According to government rules, photographs are strictly forbidden in museums. However after our initial row with the guide (and his rifle carrying assistant), we agreed a reasonable entrance fee AND he encouraged our photos- even taking a group photo for us! The children listened to every word the guide had to say (in Tigrinyian and English), whilst insisting on being guides for Tommy and I, they insisted on having their photo taken in front of every single exhibit!

It was then the march back through the town that ended up being largely dominated by a conversation between Daniel and myself. He had refused to come into the museum, as we had had to pay for everyone to enter and he had not wanted us to ‘lose money’ on him. I explained to him that there were a lot of very generous people back in England who had given me money to spend on people just like him. I went on to say that they would only be pleased with me if I could say that I have treated the children of the project and taken them out and made sure they had a good time. He laughed and told me I was a good liar.

“Why would anyone in England want to give their money to us?”, he went on, “I don’t believe you Andy, you’re just going to end up losing all your money on us!”. I again tried to make him understand that I have a lot of very kind friends and family and that they wanted me to make a big difference in Mekele. I told him that everything that I am doing is actually partly a reflection of them and their hopes, and that there are lots of people reading my diary on the internet interested in everything that is going on. “Really?”, he asked and I could feel him starting to get it. There was then a period of silence and conversation with some of the younger boys went back on to the subject of finding the ‘habasha chick’ for me…

Later Daniel asked me if I was going to come back next year. I was honest and told him that I had no idea. He said, “All the volunteers always promise to come back. Cahal did, Anna did, but none of the others. I guess they can’t get the holiday.”. I have no idea who he is talking about really, but it is impossible to put a measure on how much these children value those who come out here and work with them. They really do never forget. Fr Michael is returning soon, and I know John, Tommy and myself all hope and pray that one day we’ll return here.

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The difficulties of life in Ethiopia, lest you forget for a minute, were brought home last night as went for dinner with all the sisters and Rory and John, before they returned to Addis and then Ireland.

A phone call from Daniel to my mobile – the boys have my number somehow – brought the bad news that Sr. Fisseha was already aware of. The mother of one of the boys at the project had passed away, leaving him orphaned.

The usual Saturday morning coffee ceremony was postponed as the children all rallied round their friend, attended the funeral and visited the house. They really do treat one another with the love of brothers and sisters, like one big family. It’s not going to be easy for Tesfa, but at least he has his friends and the project staff, I’d imagine there’s many more on the streets of the city who don’t.

Solidarity? (15/8)

I had had enough of coke and coffee (mixed together), which is the Ethiopian secret cure for upsets stomachs. It tastes vile and as much as you are still feeling ill you are bursting at the eyeballs with caffeine! Enough was enough and I returned to school, however not lessons.

On arrival at Abba Gebremichael we discovered that most of the beneficiaries had headed off to the Fr Tino stadium to watch our team, St Vincent’s take on the Under-17 Tigray team. We rounded up those who were left and bundled them into a taxi to take us the 4 or 5 miles out to the sports ground.

The Tigray Under-17 team looked an impressive outfit. All in matching tracksuits and with their Under-15 team watching on, they looked pretty unbeatable. There was the added excitement of the regional TV news reporters being there as well as local press photographers. Saturday sees the start of a national competition hosted in the Mekele Stadium where Tigray will be playing against all the other regions to find the national champions. No wonder these boys looked very fit and very keen!

The photographer insisted on taking our photos (perhaps for some special story on how Wayne Rooney and Alex Fergueson had come to watch?!) and I was quizzed by one of the TV guys on what Tigray’s tactics for the tournament would be. I could have had a lot of fun and had my five minutes of Tigrinyian TV fame, but by the time I realised what was happening our boys had scored! It may have been a one-goal consolation against the eight they had conceded, but it didn’t really matter. This was like Southend taking on Brazil and they had clawed one back!

Luckily Geree the driver picked us all up in the ‘team bus’ at the end and we rode through the streets jubilant. “St Vincent’s are the only team that also sing when we lose”, one of the boys proudly boasted. The horn was beeping, the hazards flashing, shirts were waved above heads, and the singing and banging was deafening as I hung out the window and joined in! I did feel sorry for the chap being booked by the police man at the roundabout as our truck cruised by with 30 screaming boys jumping around in the back causing a general disturbance and any number of public order offences! However apparently, in the eyes of the law, anything goes if it is the name of sport…

The day of teaching was further curtailed as we arrived back at the project to find out we were going on a home visit.

Bumping up and down in the 4x4 as we went through the slums of Adi-Haki, I had one of my moments of ‘Am I really here? Really?’. We parked up and approached the house, picking our way across a muddy field. The house belongs to a family that consists of a 16-year old girl who attends the project, her younger sister (around 7ish), her mother who suffers from chronic asthma and possibly their father. The house was very small, approximately 2.5m by 2.5m, but had two beds made of piled up boulders and stone. The walls were made from a boulders and a mud-like plaster, topped of with a tin roof filled with holes; with the current rain it must get ever so damp in the house. There was no electricity or water supply, just a small oil lamp and charcoal burner. As a result, the rent was just 25Birr a month. The mother said that she earns 30Birr a month working one day a week making injera for a rich lady.

Given both the size and construction, the house did not smell damp and even though I was unsure about it, the bed offered a little comfort. The house was definitely one of the better of those I have seen around the area; it is important to remember that all these people are very poor, its about just working out which ones need extra assistance from the sisters very limited resources.

There was part of me that wanted to take a few photographs to let people back at home know exactly the kind of houses that these people live in, in particular this ‘good’ house, but it just felt inappropriate. I had been invited in and welcomed as a guest; it just didn’t feel right to be then taking photos. I certainly wouldn’t do that back home, so I’m not sure exactly why I should do it here.

On leaving Sr Fisseha explained to me that it is hard to get the true and accurate history and circumstances of a family. There are usually different versions of how many brothers and sisters there are, where the mother is, what income they have, illnesses etc. It brings home how difficult it is for the sisters in differentiating one poor family from the next; who is the most poor and needy? It takes much strength and courage to do this job on a day-to-day basis; the sisters continue to be an example to me of great service and discipleship at every single moment, and always with not a moan or complaint.

I found it a very quietly and personally humbling experience. I know exactly what the place I call home is like, and I now know what the children in our care at the project call home. To talk to the girl, you’d never know; she is always well presented, intelligent, warm, friendly and happy. I wanted to at least call someone to fix the holes in her roof, and replace the coffee her mother had offered us.

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I am starting to get an idea of what ‘living in solidarity with the poor’ actually means. It really isn’t selling all you own and renting a shack in the slums of Adi-Haki; that really would be of little benefit to anyone. What these sisters are doing, and I am trying my very best to do, is something a little different. It is more about being a guest in their homes, spending time with them and their families to understand their problems, accepting their humble hospitality. It is about accepting invites from the boys to jump into a falling apart taxi to travel a few miles into the great-unknown suburbs of Mekele to watch a game of football, disappear into a small doorway to play billiardo or climb three flights of stairs to watch the Man Utd versus Chelsea game. It is about sharing their world and their experiences. Sometimes it’s a little scary, sometimes you wonder if what you are eating or drinking will do you any good or not, sometimes you get a bit dirty, but all the time you get a little closer. It’s going way beyond half way to meet these people and sharing with them all you can, but always remaining in a position where you can truly help them and be of benefit to them.

The DoC (13/8)

As I enjoy some rest time at St Vincent’s recovering from being ill, I thought I would use the sources I have to write a little about the Daughters of Charity of whom I am a guest of in Tigray:

The Daughters of Charity (DOC) is a non-profit making, religious congregation who work within the Catholic Church. They were originally founded in France in the 17th century by St. Vincent de Paul and St. Louise de Marillac as a Society of Apostolic Life. There purpose has always been to serve Jesus Christ in the person of the poor and most disadvantaged; as their missionary zeal states: “The Daughters of Charity are servants of Jesus Christ for every corporal and spiritual service of the poor.” It is important to note that the work of the Daughters is not confined to the Catholic population (in fact there are less than 300 of those in Mekele) but embraces the needs of all people, regardless of age, sex, ethnicity, religion and race. The founding principle of the congregation is to promote integral human development with a special focus on the poor of society.

To fulfil its purpose, the congregation provide many types of pastoral and social development services. These are primarily guided and inspired by gospel values and Catholic social teaching. Underpinning all of the Daughters work are the key values of respect for human dignity, justice, love, solidarity and communal benefit of the poor.

After more than 300 years work, the Daughters of Charity have expanded their roots to 94 counties in five continents. Their work in Ethiopia began in 1927 and they presently have 14 houses across the country building upon their original socio-pastoral work.

In Tigray, the sisters work under the Adigrat Diocesan Catholic Secretariat (Adigrat Diocese) and currently have 4 houses in the region; St. Vincent and St. Louise houses in Mekelle, St. Justin de Jacobis in Alitena and Immaculate Conception house in Maychew. The first of these two houses (in Mekele ad Alitena) were opened in 1973 with the intention of working closely with the famine-stricken people in the region.

Aside from the pastoral programmes, the congregation run various social development programmes which address the needs of local communities. There are currently 17 projects running in Tigray: four clinics, two women’s promotion centres, three kindergartens, one housing project for the most disadvantaged and poorest women, one street children’s project (supporting orphaned and vulnerable children), one youth programme, two hostels for girls, as well as work supporting elderly and disabled people, prison ministry and supporting medical treatment of women suffering from fistula. Through their hard work the congregation have attained a significant credibility and acceptance by the community and recognition by relevant government sectors. This is particularly impressive given the small minority that is the Catholic population.

Each project has its own administrator, Sr Fisseha co-ordinates the street children for example, but there is a central coordinating office to make all the social and development projects in Tigray more effective. Sr Medhin currently runs this and she is responsible for developing proposals and plans, making project agreements with donors, ensure implementation of projects, to oversee human resources and financial management of the projects and communicate with relevant government authorities.
More recently the Daughters of Charity have been involved with helping those who have suffered badly in the Ethiopian-Eritrea conflict. A direct effect of the war, only in very recent times, was the displacement of hundreds of thousands of civilians who were forced to flee and leave their possessions and lives behind. Most of the internally displaced civilians (mostly children, women, the elderly and persons with disability) were left to exist in very difficult living conditions; some in makeshift camps, the others in small caves in the hillside. The Daughters of Charity have contributed as much as they can to these people including the provision of emergency food ad medicine to those suffering the most.

The conflict has also had a knock-on effect to the other DOC projects in the border areas, particularly in Alitena (around 25km from the still disputed border). The situation is still unresolved and the future uncertain. The threat of war is ever present and there is still heavy military presence throughout these areas. The Daughters must prepare to work with two different scenarios: with or without a war.

The main beneficiaries of the Daughters work are the street children, poor and powerless women, unemployed youth, HIV/AIDS affected and infected families, patients, its staff, students and parents, the homeless, displaced, refugees, and other marginalized individuals and communities. Their needs are numerous and include food, clothing, education, financial support, land, job opportunity, acceptance, love and respect by other community members, secured home, preventive and curative health service, counseling, social, spiritual and psychological support, skill and vocational training, credit.

It is a real pleasure to spend just a short space of time with these wonderful sisters. They are never short of surprises and to see all the above actually acted upon and lived out by these women is nothing short of amazing. It requires total dedication, patience, hard work, compassion, love and faith on their part – and not one sister is even slightly lacking in any one of these qualities. They are an example to all, yet far too humble to take any kind of praise when Tommy and I try to offer it to them!