Dire Dawa and the Desert

July 14, 2011

I had to look up the date for this. We came back that Saturday and had an uneventful nice late lunch with Bekele’s family. Then I went to the house and died. Not really. Slept. I had three days in the office writing, editing, and planning. Then I went by plane to Dire Dawa and the surrounding areas. Early morning Thursday, flight to heat.

Dire Dawa is a desert town in the east on the way to Djibuti. A town influenced by the French. It has a very colonial feel. The architecture is much more developed. There are camels in the streets. There is an outdoor café atmosphere to almost everything. And it is hot.

Our flight, boring except for the landing which was turbulent. We were hit by the wave of heat. There was some funny stuff as we entered, as  I was pulled aside 3 times to make sure I was legal. I was the only white man. We gathered our bags and went to the hotel, checked in, and then on to the Catholic Secretariat to gather the others in our adventure.

Mussie from CRS had gone to Dire Dawa on Monday. He was waiting for us with Alamayo, an engineer whom I met last year and liked very much. It was nice to see him again. He chews chat. This gets him labeled as something less than perfect. Hard to understand exactly as he is definitely considered one of the best at setting up water schemes and projects.

We gathered in our Land Cruiser and headed south. This takes you up into low lying mountains on one of the crazier roads. Last year there was a truck over turned and on the side of the road for the week I was in the area. To no  one’s surprise there was another one in almost the same place. Each time the truck was on the side of the road going up, the alternative, a very large drop. Passing on curves and fast moving min-vans are the cause.

At the top of the first leg of this there is a fork, one leads to Harar which we went to later, the other, I am not sure. Along the second way was our destination, Goro Gutu. We went there last year to look at the ArborLoo in a specific area. This year we went to two neighboring villages. They sit ont op of either side of a valley. Village A (never understood what the name was) has the bore whole that supplies the entire valley with water, Village B needs the water and has pipes, points, and tanks for this. When the bore whole was dug an agreement was made with the two villages, the community leaders, and Woreda (regional government). This happened about a year ago. Now Village A had cut off the water to Village B.

After investigation it turns out that the Sheik in Village A has a plantation and was worried that he would lose water. So Bekele and a woman lawyer from the “Food for Peace” department went to speak with him. Alamayo and I went to look at Village B and assess their status.

Village B was very proud of the amount of ArborLoo’s they had. It seemed that all had one. However because of the lack of water they were drinking out of a catchment basin covered in algae. This disturbing scene gets repeated over and over throughout this country. In any case we continued up the side of this mountain village to view what turned out to be one of the most well constructed schools I have seen. Yet no water. Reading this you can probably sense that is getting harder for me to contain my frustration and anger.

Kids chased me during the entire walk. Every time I turned to look at them or take a picture they scattered in hilarity. That was fun. Some of the people had planted quite a lot on their ArborLoo sites, mangos and bananas were most popular.

While I haven’t written much, this took a few hours of hiking. We then stopped at one more village on the side of the road to discuss the business idea and see their use of the ArborLoo. This was very fruitful. The skies opened up for a moment while we were walking. We were invited inside a woman’s house where a large discussion ensued.

The people crowded in and around the doorway. We asked about what it was they bought from bigger towns. We spoke on what they sold and how they thought the ArborLoo was and or affected their lives. Suddenly I had a clearer idea of what a business model would look like. A caravan of sorts, like those of the wild west movies, a traveling general store.

We finished and returned to the hotel, showered, and walked to dinner. It was a hot night. There were many people out in the streets of Dire Dawa. This is not to imply a bustling vibrant place, but rather a quiet and calm almost whispering place. Very peaceful. Very sandy.

The next morning we woke and gathered ourselves for a long drive north east along the dirt highway that leads to Djibouti. We were headed into the real desert. It was hotter than the day before and 115 or more in the desert. I became a human damp rag. My clothes sticking to me, water running off my head.

When we arrived at the village, this is a funny word to describe the hut like tents and ramshackle housing. The Somalis that live here, it was not Somalia, were nomadic until water was established. They used to move their herds to different areas every season. They would rotate like this over four maybe more areas. This allowed for grass to grow. Now after the deforestation and the full take over of desert, there is very little grass or… Water therefore becomes an anchor.

The heat was intense to understate it. The idea of living there absurd. Yet there was water. CRS and its partners have provided these people with water. They have also taught them how to build latrines and practice sanitation. This is amazing. The people are very enthusiastic and thankful. They are all Muslim. No animosity towards Catholics or Christians, just thanks.

When we left the village we made one more stop on the return to visit a flood irrigation and catchment project. It was quite large. Although I have no idea how the full tank would last until the next flood, if and when it ever came.

Our final site visit came Saturday morning. We went only about 7 kilometers from Dire Dawa to a dry riverbed. Here they have created a sand damn. They dug 3 meters down to bedrock and poured cement. This catches all the ground water flowing in the riverbed. It then channels the water into an irrigation system. This is a significant amount of water. The irrigation runs through its channels to a large concrete structured fishpond. Although I was not able to see the fish I was told they were plentiful. The water then overflowed into a channel that irrigated the fruit plantation below. 

It was really something – the water seemingly coming from nowhere to supply multiple food sources. I was introduced to mandarin oranges, except these were green. Very sweet and good. They grew eggplants, mangos, bananas, and another unidentified in English fruit.

I have more to say, but I am still formulating what has left a huge abstract burn in my brain. We left and caught our plane, and then I slept all day Sunday.

July 8, 2011

 Kid looking in at Tej house

 The village children

 irrigation

 Hassan and Berita

 Berita

 Berita

 Water

 There is a cow at the top

July 8, 2011

The morning came early. We met at breakfast. The same multi bread and eggs thing. Coffee. Water. And back to the car and to Water Action’s office by 7:30. We conversed for a few and then we were out to the next place.

This drive took us higher. It was about a 30 minute drive up a fairly normal road then something akin to a fire road into a village nestled fairly high up. We got out met someone who was not introduced, until later, Hassan. He led us up a steep incline that rose 500 meters. By the time we got to our destination the air was thin.

There is a spring up there that through Bekele’s help Tom and Ayulumn turned into a water point. It is complete with trough for animals and a separate point for drinking water. I am not sure of the elevation but it was somewhere near 10,000 feet. However, people came from higher to gather water and take it up higher.  Unbelievable.  There were huts scattered up and around. What I couldn’t figure was what they ate. Not much was growing, there were some cows, very skinny, and goats of course. Very hard and very difficult to understand. The water was a huge benefit for them. Clean and plentiful, but wow.

We then went down stopped half way to watch as some young men, boys really, built a holding tank. Beautiful views.

Back at the village we were taken in and given coffee by one of the locals. Wonderful. Just amazing stuff the coffee. The house was set up above the road. Not small, fairly large. Almost no furniture other than what we sat on. A back room that went somewhere. They burned incense for us. Roasted the coffee right there and then crushed it and poured boiling water on it.

We then split up. Bekele, Hassan, and Tom went to another high spring. Ayulumn and I went to speak with the health clinic. They had left for a meeting in Kolmbucha, so we sat and watched kids, and sat and then they returned.

It was now very hot. If you haven’t figured it out, Addis is not hot, so every time I leave I go through a shock. We drove to a school and decided where the women’s’ toilet would be located. From there we drove quite a distance through more of the same  mountains along a fairly dry river until we came to a bluff overlooking another irrigation scheme.  We walked down. The terrain was rolling smoothed and crumbling sandstone, alien like from the sudden rains.

Below they had again created an irrigation area with cement and the labor of those who inhabited the nearby region. Currently the people were drinking the water from the stream. The water was stagnate in some areas, full of nitrogen from human waste, and even had pools of mosquitoes. We measured the speed of the flow. And discussed how to build a sand filtration system. I discovered some small fish and suggested building up one area to create a pond that could over flow but would allow the fish to grow. They are going to do this.

The strangeness of all of this is there is so much work to be done, so much behavior that has to be modified, like teaching people not to use the stream for their toilet, and then not to drink from the stream. Yet, when you look around, without outside help, what would they do. Its been generations of living in the area, Time and weather patterns have taken away what was formally plentiful water sources. They have over forested and now have huge expanses of desert like terrain. And the past governments were happy to let people remain isolated, so outside influence was very minimal.

We returned from this area back to the first village. The plan was to speak to the local farming organization and see how we could work together. In the mean time we went into the local tej house. I instantly made every one happy. Ferengi’s don’t drink in their village, and they sure don’t drink tej. I have a few words of thanks mainly which I spoke. This, I was told would be day they talked about for a long time. The village kids spontaneously serenaded me with some sort of kid nonsense song. I asked what they were singing. Everyone agreed they were making up words.

We finished and spoke a few words to the farmers, who were grateful that we even approached them. They said they were committed to making life better so any idea was welcome, they would work.

Again it was late in the day without food and now tej, altitude changes and such were wearing me down. We had a non descript lunch and then we parted to our rooms to take an afternoon nap. Which I gladly did.

We met for a final beer with Water Action at the brewery and then retired to a relatively early night.

July 7, 2011

July 14, 2011 – and July 7^th

Ok so this is getting confusing now. Today July 14^th I am sitting at the Bole airport on my way to Dire Dawa, a beautiful desert town near Djibouti. I am filling in the gaps in my last trip as I start the adventure of my next one. The most important thing beside waking up at 5 am to my nokia phone alarmand a broken toilet is the Ethiopian security were very conserned with my toothpaste. Lets be clear on this, crest ultra protection with whitening is a suspicious package no doubt. It was in my checked bag. Oh to even enter the airport one goes through a screening. I am now waiting for Bekele to appear. I am sitting andhaving a coffee of course. Once he is here we go through another security, belt off, shoes off, laptop displayed, plastic bag of liquids, etc. My toothpaste made it through. Ahh here is Bekele.

Last night was a full on here we go walking into playing after work or work can not be fun Bekele time. I am exhausted. We sat with people we didn’t know which was highly amusing to all around us. A darkly lit café style outdoor bar. Bekele 100 decibels louder than any one. Muse the other of us is a small very nice, kind of hidden devilish nerd. He is bug eyed with glasses an almost Earkle type. He has multiple degrees very, smart. Sharp wit but you have to pay attention to catch it. Dire Dawans are a very quiet people. Hard to hear them at all. Out and about, but like they whisper there nightlife joy. Dark Harar beer, pretty good. Then walking back we stopped for food, I just got fries, my stomach was not happy with what we had for lunch so fries seemed good. Bekele and Muse had different types of burgers. Bekele insisted I try one half of his. I took a taste and nearly spit it out. It is the first time I have been so honest. I handed it back and said, I am sorry I cannot eat this. Awful horrible, can still taste it this morning.

Back to July 7^th. We woke up, had coffee and drove to Kolmbucha. We stopped for a moment at the hotel to reserve our rooms and then went to the Water Action office. Water Action is a local NGO who partners with CRS on the ground. The “chief’ as he was called is a young man by the name of Tomeskge, or Tom. Ok so yes, same as the driver. His partner Ayulumn (SP?) a young woman head of the sanitation department.

We went through greetings, Bekele got everyone laughing, I checked my email and then we head out to where, I didn’t know, however I was told it would be very interesting. We drove probably 25 kilometers. Not far except that the last 18 was carved out of hill/mountain sides by the village. This was down in exchange for the immense concrete irrigation system that was put in by water action. The labor was performed for free. This meant that for 18 kilometers we drove over softball size rocks, on a road that was precariously hung on the sides of these ridges, hills, and mountainsides. The last 18 kilometers took nearly an hour to drive. I have never seen such arduous work. It was all done by hand and shovel. It just wouldn’t be done in the United States. Proposed people would laugh. That road is now imprinted in my head. I didn’t get any pictures because it just wasn’t possible to show the true nature of it.

We were in the mountains, during rainy season, and it was hot. I made everyone happy by putting my hat on. Now I was truly visiting from the west. We stopped above a gorge and took a long winding path down to the beginning of the irrigation system. Again the labor was performed for free in exchange for the system, concrete, etc. The people had to cut down through rock about 18 feet to create a path for the water to flow and reach the farm land. Because of this irrigation, they now have the ability to grow food throughout the year, meaning 2 to 3 harvests instead of the 1 rain dependent harvest.

That was only the site visit for the day. We spoke with the farmers, looked at their crops, and hiked, about 3 hours. It was time for our meeting with the government officials. Thank fully I had bought some cookies/crackers just for this moment. We were going to postpone lunch until afterwards. The administrator was a devout Muslim woman named Aisha. She was fully covered except the oval of her face. She was soft spoken and obviously very intelligent. The other members of the meeting were the directors of agriculture, water, natural resources, and a delegate from health.

The room was better than most, it had some wood paneling which was interesting. The table was a big solid wood table, not fake Chinese ikea which is the norm. But it was hot. The window was open, which allowed the noise of construction to penetrate our discussions. We were told there was only a limited amount of time, so Bekele rushed through the presentation so that Aisha could comment and then move on to here other engagement.

The atmosphere in the room was very difficult to read. Aisha seemed a bit impatient. The others seemed uncomfortable, but attentive. At the end of Bekele’s speech Aisha spoek about the current projects the government was involved in. She emphasized that collaboration was a key point in any success and welcomed our ideas. She also emphasized her appreciation for Water Action and the work. Finally she said she would like to work with us and our eco-sanitation ideas.

Then it got weird. The delegate from health asked to speak. He was very formal. He said many things, all in Amharic. I asked Bekele, and he said wait. The Administrator was calm but I could tell something was wrong. Finally, Bekele, translated that the Health delegate said “how can you make this decision? This is my decision?”  And then he had launched into a history of latrines, and explained his knowledge, and that there was no real research on eco-sanitation. The last bit got me perplexed, and I said as much. The delegate spoke English and he sort of ignored my statement. The Admnistrator said a few words which amounted to  “I want to end this meeting. Besides I must go.” Bekele plead with them to let us stay in her absence to see if we could formulate a way to go forward in a partnership. Aisha said fine, not angry but… at this point I couldn’t figure out what was happening.

The discussion started after we said our formal thanks and good byes to Aisha. I forget who at this point started to speak, only to be interrupted by the health delegate. Apparently he had not finished. Nor had he nearly two hours later. By the end of his two hours, short interruptions and requests for explanation of him, I was not the only one in the room who wanted to kill him. I was sitting in-between him and Bekele. I had begun daydreaming images of me standing up and throttling him, walking out, screaming, etc. It was about 100 degrees and by the end distinctly b.o. smelling. Ayulumn was even quietly waving her hand in front of her nose. The delegate that Aisha had sent in her stead was barely keeping his annoyance together.

There was a pause. Now to understand what was going on I had gathered that the delegate just didn’t have any faith in the idea of eco-sanitation. But when pressed by Bekele he never answered why. There has been a lot of research on eco-sanitation by all the leading agencies, and myself. It was strange. Bekele was a master at handling him, at one point calling him a “Scientist of Resistance,” which made the delegate very happy (I am sure all he heard was scientist).

So finally he paused, he took a breath and I said “excuse me.” He looked at me and I turned to Bekele. I asked him if anything was different other than he not being very enthusiastic about it. Bekele said no. I said ok ask him this. I had my head turned towards Bekele, knowing that the delegates English was very good. I said “ask him if he likes the status quo. Does he think things could get better? Is he happy with the traditional latrines and the way they are being adopted?”

Bekele repeated this in Amharic. The health delgate launched into another long winded explanation. Now I interrupted. I said “Excuse me.” I turned to Bekele and said “ask him yes or no.” Bekele laughed and said it in Amharic.

The delegate said “No its not good now.” And he started to go on. I interrupted again. I said “I’m sorry. I would like to talk now.” There was some snickers. “So if it is not good now. Lets try something new. If it doesn’t work, don’t use it. It is time to move forward. Correct.” There was a lot of agreement. The delegate nodded. Bekele said some things in Amharic. The delegate started up again, and the Director of Agriculture interrupted and said (translated later to me) “they are asking you to work on new ideas to solve the problem or would you rather stay where we are?” This did not end the meeting. It went for another 15 or so minutes. I was confused.

In the car, now 4 something. People were upset, but happy because we had managed to win the discussion and get him to agree to work with us. We went and got tibs. Each person took a turn voicing their disgust for the exercise we had just gone through.  From tibs, we went to the brewery.

Peter the driver joined us halfway into the night. At which point everyone had drank more than usual. The pent up energy from the meeting earlier had spilled into our beer. Stories flew of past incidents. Jokes and general release. Finally we all agreed that having another was bad idea.

When we got to the hotel, they had lost our reservation. Bekele started to get upset. Peter ushered him aside. I sat on a couch laughing. It was straightened out. We were lead by a very concerned bell boy to our rooms. Bekele was confused aobut his key, I said hey should we get something to eat. Pete said, “Bekele go in your room. No F.L. its time for sleep.” It wasn’t late, but he was right. I laughed and went in. I had a full 2 liters of water, which I drank.

July 6, 2011 - Kelelela

 Mountain Village (above)

 Tej

 women getting water

 the water

 the mountain village from below

The Sheraton. Ahh the Kelelela Sheraton. A place I won’t easily forget. The atmosphere, the mud outside. The ground in the mountain areas is often a red clay. With the sudden hard rains it became a sticky messy thick crumbling paste. Small room with bed and rickety table. The sleep was pretty good, actually. The bed was not too bad at all, with only a slight right-angled slope. I had one adventure seeking out the urinal, rather the top of my head did as it hit a low hanging beam. The next day the cut on the top of my head was the source of much concern though ok. Silly tall ferengi.

We were to meet at 7 as usual but the three of us were all up at 6 because though the beds weren’t horrible they were not fantastic. So we helped the coffee shop, tibs place, get her lights on. Bekele was full of appropriate insults and conjoling which had the young woman proprietor laughing. Conjo with a hard j is ‘beautiful,’ not the Spanish swear word. They sound very similar. Bekele explained that if you say it rudely, sort of gruffly with a smile, it gets a laugh and good service. We do get good service, but I think it has more to do with Bekele’s charm, not a universal thing.

One of the boys from the day before was also up early. He enjoyed watching us. I had eggs, scrambled, on injeera. Not tibs. That was nice. The coffee was wonderful. The light in the place was dim, and since it was so early, it felt very mystical, with the crisp air and the sun pushing its way over the mountain.

We met TT&T and were off for a whirl-wind tour of sites. We stopped along a road to  look at a hill side where TT&T had planted trees. The soil is so degraded because of deforestation that this fairly large amount of acreage was only a drop in the bucket. At once I felt awe at their work and at the amount still to be done.

We then went to a small village where they had been working for the last two years. This was a walk down from the road into a small valley that overlooked an immense drop and a larger valley. Impossible to describe how this nestled bunch of huts evoked the images of fantastical mountain villages, my pictures just don’t capture it.

And although the beauty remained, the spell was quickly broken as we stepped from grass onto a muddy path that vined its way through the huts and trees. They had been busy. The area was like an oasis sitting smack at the low point between two steep hills, almost triangular, with the huts going up either side. In the center was the water point, a cattle trough, and a community garden. They had also planted many trees to provide shelter from wind and to stop erosion. It was stunningly beautiful, simple, muddy, and an example of the arduous life. Its all relative. What they had done was again a huge accomplishment, but their existence is from a time more than 200 years ago, minus the water point, and the odd cell phone, and us time travelers.

The community garden was fertilized by two ArborLoos (eco sanitation latrines that convert the human waste into fertile soil by combining ash and topsoil over its relatively short life span). They had moved the ArborLoos a few times and were so proud of the results. We went to other houses to see their progress. In the couple of years that TT&T had been working with the village they had managed to get the entire village to adopt the ArborLoo as a latrine, prior to this they had no toilets, just the fields.

From this village we went to two more and saw similar examples of the hard work and the simultaneously huge and small steps forward they had made.

We then visited future project sites, or only just begun projects. These were more difficult to view for a couple of reasons. The terrain was rough, so much of the time we had to walk. The challenges to the people were immense. And, just viewing the situation itself fell in the arena of I could have lived fine without seeing this.

We watched as women who had been walking for quite some time arrived at a spring, a stagnate malarial parasite filled hole, and filled their jerry cans. We saw the signs of severe trachoma – blinding and eventually fatal disease if not treated, distended stomachs and such.  And so the need for the work was hammered home. TT&T with the help of CRS would build proper spring driven wells at the sights that would also be pumped to local schools. Eco-sanitation toilets would be built at the schools, separate housing for boys and girls.

We stood at each of the several new project sites discussing how to best locate structures, Bekele making rough sketches. Nor Hussien and Shalise taking notes, me pictures, and adding my two cents or questions.  We became aware at the last spring of the rain headed our way. We were in the middle of a great flat plain. Lightening became the subject. So we hurried.  There was promise in the springs and the wells to be established. Promise for the kids and the schools in water and toilets. Simple things. There was promise of us making the Land Cruisers before the lightening. We even picked up an older man along our fast walk run to the vehicles. We made it, and boy did it come down. Its been a long time since I have seen rain and hail hit the air with such force. We couldn’t see more than two feet in front of the car. It was 1p.m. and night suddenly.

We said our hurried good byes and then we drove to Dessie. The first part was back tracking the way we had come on the gravel highway, accept now down. I spent most of my time sleeping, or trying to as the Land Cruiser hurled down the road slowing just in time for curves, livestock, or people. With my eyes open I was sure we were destined for a long fall, besides I had seen it all on the way up.

Dessie is a town of the Kings. A mountain city known for its beautiful girls, in reality, and for the former services it provided. The mountain women are a bit taller than elsewhere, and they are striking. And the mythology about them is pervasive. Everyone talks about them, similar to the California girls idea. In any case this was a place they were proud to take me as sort of an alternative place to stay. It was only 30 minutes from Kolmbucha where we would stay the next few nights. In any case it was a city. I am not sure what I was supposed to take in. It was in the side of the mountain rolling up part and rolling down another, strip mall type buildings, some fancier than others, nothing that special. Glory days of past I guess.

It was at one time famous for Tej the honey wine of Ethiopia. Bekele and Tom had gotten he name of the best Tej house, so we sought it out. This became a process of going down one winding road only to back up and take a different one, get directions and return back to a prior street, back up, etc. Eventually we found ourselves, not exactly out of town, but on one of these road one finds in Ethiopian cities that is suddenly dirt, and rural in feel. There was a large on developed hill on our right and rural styled houses below in a ravine of sorts on our left. Tom started laughing. Bekele was laughing too. The last directions had been very specific and we were stopped right outside of a derlict looking house and courtyard. A child stuck her head out of the building below. Bekele asked her if this was the place. She said yes of course. That got us laughing.

We decided to go in. We sat on a bench outside, and you could see that at one point it probably was a very fun place, but it had been forgotten for sure. The young girl poured us 1 ½ Tejs. They are served in a sort of vase like jar. 1 ½ is all they had left today she explained. We looked at each other in disbelief and wonder at the scene. The courtyard worked its way up the ravine toward the hill. It had a clothesline, but some plastic café chairs and tables, not used for  a long time. The house/establishment was really quite cool although falling apart. Ranch style almost. Again multi colored but all fading. An indoor seating area. No sign of life other than the maybe 10 year old girl.

We finished and decided it was time for dinner anyway. We ended up in an out of the way almost Greek looking place. I am continually flummoxed by the ability of my companions to know the most non-descript out of the way places for  food or drinks no matter where the hell we are – not to mention the drivers being able to always take the correct turn in the middle of nowhere. Dinner was fine, nothing special.

We then went in search of an outdoor place to sit and have a beer. That didn’t turn out so good. It’s a very Muslim area so all the outside stuff was non-alcoholic, which would have been fine but Bekele wanted a beer. “After work we must misbehave” Thank fully that is more words than action. We found a place that was not bad, had a beer, and returned to the hotel to read or whatever. I was exhausted.

Evening of July 4 and July 5, 2011

 kolmbucha (above)

 from the hotel in kolmbucha

 center of kelelela

 sheraton

 view on the way to kelelela

 bvi - bekele throwing, peter looking

the men (above)

The hotel and room was ostensibly fancy. The Sunset Hotel. But like most things, much not completely finished. For example the lobby has a faux hardwood molding and bench system that doesn’t attach to a wall but is rather just set as a break between the dinning area, the entrance and the divide to the bar area. Nothing really wrong with floating furniture/walls, just interesting. Finally all the haranguing about bills and rooms finished, almost an hour’s worth of haranguing. They lead us to our rooms. They decided to give me one in the middle, this seemed the best choice to them. The bell hop ( I have no idea what else to call him) opened the door to an unmade bed, actually dirty sheets and all with stain, and I started to laugh. He apologized and ran down stairs. I know I should not have laughed but after all the bill talk and the sitting and waiting that was perfect. He arrived back opened a new room for me which was just fine normal mid range hotel room with mosquito net. He was a very nice young man who had a sense of humor about the whole thing. We decided to forgo showers and meet down stairs in fifteen and go straight to the BVI Brewery.

BVI is a Dutch beer maker. They make Castle, which as far as I can tell is pretty much a Dtuch African beer. I have never seen it anywhere  else, which doesn’t mean much, but… Anyway BVI bought St. Georges an Ethiopian beer, last year.  So really we were going to the St. Georges factory and brewery now owned by BVI. It was 4:30, and after all the heat and sitting beer sounded like a decent idea. Its very low in % so it has a rehydrating effect also, or I hoped so.

BVI as we came to call it was down a dirt road off the main drive in Kolmbucha. The city is in a valley that combines desert like scapes with greenery of farm areas. There is a river that runs through it that was pretty dry at this time, although people still went down to it to gather water and wash clothes. It runs directly under the main drive diving the city in half. The buildings are strip mall like or ramshackle houses or stores with tin placed on the walls in less than straight fashion, often many different colors like a patchwork quilt. Camels, trucks, donkeys, goats, and dogs. Everywhere with trucks sending them in different directions.

The road to BVI was just before the river, which took us through a minor industrial zone and poor residential. Everything is mixed here. The factory was the colors of St. Georges, red, white, and yellow fences, over which I could see concrete walls in the same colors.  We pulled into the parking area for the brewery, a palm tree, some sort of flowering tree, dust, etc. We were apparently early. Bekele said to the women who informed of this, “how are we going to drink beer then?” She let us in and took our entrance fee of 2 bir a piece, 4 cents or something.

The court yard was a Bole, or Bachi ball field. It was hard sand with a man pushing steel roller matting it down for the evening’s games. The main area had several outdoor tables and an  indoor area. The seating did extend around the field with seats on several levels and then a sort of arcade area on the right end completing the rectangle.  My Ethiopian friends and I began to speculate on how it was played. I seemed to know the most about the details but only barely which made for some fun English Amharic pantomime.

After a few minutes a man took our order and returned with 3 plastic mugs of cold beer. The mugs were double walled with ice in between. In the heat we could watch it mealt which as there was no game as of yet became a time filler of fascination. We had been in a car, and then in a hotel argument since 6am so you can forgive the fascination with the mundane.

When they started playing it was like anywhere. Lots of laughter, lots of gesticulation about whose ball was closer. We were joined by Peter another driver from CRS. Peter drives flat bed trucks that deliver supplies. He was very much the life of the party. He and Bekele got up and went out and joined a team. It was a pretty great night. Very relaxed and by 8 we were all ready for sleep.

Tuesday morning July 5, 2011

We got up and met at breakfast 6:30 am. We ate a different buffet of scrambled eggs, eggs and tomato sauce mixed so that I didn’t know it was egg but I also didn’t know what it was, many types of injeara based gravy things all  a different ‘fir-fir,’ toast, butter, marmalade, sautéed oats (which were very good), and something I thought was meat but turned out to be a bread of some sort, and coffee – ahh coffee.  Probably the worst coffee I have had here but still good. Not folgers. Not instant anything, just not the high standard I’ve gotten used too. Poor me.

We paid for our rooms, more confusion sorted out, and then off into the high lands.  Wow was I not prepared for this drive. After about 30 minutes we turned off the paved road onto what was a very hard packed wide gravel road. I could see why we had not done this the day before. Quite smooth really. Maybe too smooth, because although Tom (by now we were friends and he wanted me to call him Tom because as he explained with a bashful twinkle he loves Tom and Jerry), is a very good driver, he seems to have no fear. We were going up the mountains remember, curves and switchbacks and ups and downs. I kept waiting for the tires to skid and us to plunge the many thousands of feet. I lost a lot of weight in sweat. I never said a word, kept laughing, and tried to concentrate on the amazing views, even as he pushed the land cruiser forward headlong toward the next curve, car, donkey, pedestrian. He always managed to slow down smoothly, never came close to skidding, but ….

At times we were close to 11,000 feat. Beautiful rolling mountain tops that plunged down and down in layered valleys. We saw a fox take his time to cross the road. Grey red whiskerey thing. And of course, people walking, always walking. The houses were constructed out of eucalyptus, mud, dung, and grass. Some were all grass and more round. All were one with the landscape. Postcard, fantasy on every side. Wheats, corn, and some other crop I could never get a clear idea of what it was, maybe chick pea?

We stopped to ask several times if we were still headed to Kelelela. We always seemed to be on correct road. Bothe Bekele and Tom had stories of ending up 100’s of kilometers in from the right place. Two and half hours later we arrived in a small town of what westerners would call shacks. Many of these were large, plastered, painted, and crumbling in places. We came down into Kelelela, turned off the main road, drove in some grass, then on a two track, over a bridge that crossed an irrigation ravine, and around a flooded out road into Team Today and Tomorrow’s office. They are the only and local NGO that is working to help the town. All this was within sight of the center of town, so the quick grass bridge trip took 10 minutes only  because of the strange route needed because of the fierce thunderstorms that were occurring in the afternoon.

TT&T as they are referred to, are lead by a man, Fasil,  who was not there due to a sick child, and two young Islamic men, Nor Hussein and Shalise (sp?). Nor Hussein is a fairly strict Muslim, while Shalise is not as much (drinks beer for example). However, both were happy to have Catholic Relief Services as their partner, they were amazing. I only point this out because if one were to believe the news Muslims and Christians hate each other…. Well not here.

The office is very typical of all the offices I have been to outside of Addis. They are rectangular, the size of a trailer, very much like a trailer in that they seem very temporary. Cement structured. They have several offices, the number depending on the size or length of the building. Each of these offices has more desks and chairs than it should. This furniture is the primary adornment, other than some poster type statements on achievements, goals, or vision. The weather plays havoc with the walls, all are in need of a new plaster job/paint job.

We rambled in with the traditional greetings, a hand shake with the left hand holding the right arm just below the elbow “salomna” and your name. At this point I am always at a loss because Bekele usually knows the people well and the Amaharic flies punctuated by laughter, then they realize I am still there and it becomes make sure the guest is ok time. In any case we reviewed the itinerary for the day which was lunch and coffee then government meeting, then the next morning site visits.

Nor Hussein and Shalise are great men in there late 20’s. They are not from Kelelela, which says something about their dedication, as this small town is far from modern, very ill equipped, one restaurant safe for eating at, (even they will only eat there) one coffee place, and a fair amount of people, a few thousand anyway. It is a Kebele, which is an official town so it has a government.

After a few minutes of discussion we went to look at the Sheraton. That was the name for the hotel that Bekele had dubbed it at 6:30 am the day before, laughing of course. The Sheraton is a prominent hotel in Addis. This one was on the side of hill behind a gate, dung/grass/mud walls with painted plaster, long walk to the bathroom (latrine), or there was a broken outdoor shower with some privacy now used a urinal. The poster/bill board on the front of the main building advertised something more akin to the Sheraton. The room was fine really. A bed, clean because the proprietors were very strict Muslims who had signs in all the rooms that said something like “no loose women will check for marriage license” probably more formal than that, but that’s what it meant anyway. We picked our rooms and went to lunch.

The restaurant was at one end of town, near the government buildings. Tibs. Very good. Goat this time I think. And coke. Needed bubbles. Then coffee. Lots of kids getting close to me and then running away some scared, some playing. The restaurant had a lot of foreign posters on the wal including a naked Chinese women selling something, not sex, but I sure can not tell you what she was selling. There was a tv on and the radio. The tv was playing some music video of a rap artist I didn’t recognize, and the radio playing tradition Amharan music. Very odd mix. Cement floors, dirt, and grass. Dirt tracked in but the grass was cut and spread as it is a traditional way of welcoming people.

We went for coffee in a more central location as we still had time to kill. There were men chewing chat, a mild stimulant you can find all over  the Horn of Africa and into the Middle east. I tried it the last time I was here, and I found it gave me the annoyance of coffee without much else, like an itch that I should do something but… any way Ethiopia produces a lot of chat. Again I was an attraction, some of the kids had followed us, so the games continued, waving, hand signs, laughter, hiding, near touching, etc.

The Government. First let me say they were extremely welcoming, kind and generous. You have no idea what to expect in a meeting with government officials no matter what country, much less a country you are not very familiar with. There were the Adminstrator (Mayor like figure), Heads of the depts. of Health, Water, Agriculture, Sanitation, Natrual Resources, and Education. We went through some very formal introductions, crowded around two desks in a kind of circle. Bekele spoke on why were there. Explaining, that we have an idea and some new potential funding for it, but we need to have an open and honest discussion about how the work that TT&T has been going, how the government felt about working with TT&T, where everyone felt weaknesses were and where successes were. He stressed as he and I discussed that this was nto an evaluation of TT&T but rather a learning discussion for us so that when we proposed our idea we didn’t commit mistakes all over again.

The Administrator spoke at length about the admiration he had for TT&T. He explained that they were very small, had a very small budget, and had accomplished quite a lot. He thought they were wonderful to work with. The major problem that they faced as collaborators was because of the budget there was only a limited amount of work they could accomplish. Each director reiterated this some going as fars as saying that if we came to them with new ideas they would work for free because this was their community and it needed so much help.

I gave my presentation. I prepared a graphic handout that had the image of an eco-sanitaion system in the upper right corner, a circle that started blue and went to green with each department or sector laid out over the circle connected by arrows. Water was at the top. In the center was an image of a water point surround by an open air market. I explained that eco-sanitation could be a lens to focus current programs through. That eco-saniation completed the circle from earth to food to human back to earth which had benefits for each sector, eg.  education and science, health and the containment of human waste, natural resources and the replenishment of degraded soil and the protection of water, etc. I then explained that the major problem with all of this is that latrines no matter what the kind need some kind of slab, and as much as people would like to give away the slabs it wasn’t possible, so we had to find a business empowerment solution. I explained that we thought perhaps the supply chain of cement was a key because eventually cement could be used for other things therefore it was sustainable. I explained that our idea was to use the water point as the central gathering place to create small open air markets in the targeted tiny villages. And finally I explained, we needed input, so that it would work, and negative input was extremely valuable. We got a lot of enthusiasm. A lot of emphasis on the need for real collaboration and coordination. So what did I come out of there with… oh hell now I really need to do something. That’s what I came out of there with, exciting and terrifying. The meeting was about 2 hours long. Everyone took my email.

More coffee, and then beer, and Bekele had gin and tonics, which was really funny. He had never struck me as a big drinker, but he told me that as it was the highland and cold (no it wasn’t cold) that’s when he had cocktails. I had a taste of the local gin, very syrupy. Any way I had a couple of beers. Then we went to a kind of neat restaurant, oh did I say earlier that there was only one safe one in the town. Well that’s what they told me until we went to dinner. I had a wonderful roast chicken. Not tibs. And then to bed we went.

Ahh now that was interesting. A thunderstorm had struck and knocked out all power while we ate. Although the rain came down hard, it was only really benefiting the valley because it was so much and so fast and so short it just tore through everything, and, it had lightening. The lightening, as if the lack of real rain wasn’t enough, is killing a lot of people according to the locals. Several people had been hit in the last two days.

So we arrive at this Sheraton hotel with no light. I brought my head lamp geek that I am, so I was prepared and managed to amuse the Ethiopians, which is always good. We had our own water, so I also managed to clean my face and teeth some and then crashed.

More to come.