Lessons Learnt

Lessons Learnt...


It’s taken a while to get round to this update- it’s very hard to find the time sometimes, and then sometimes hard to find the motivation. Life as a volunteer is very tiring- a lot of the tiredness must due to the constant adjustment to living within a very different culture. And, as was pointed out to me the other day, Awassa is at an altitude of 1800m, so this also will be contributing to my need to doze!

Readers of my updates have remarked how its sounds as if I’m on an extended holiday- and occasionally it does feel a little like that. Every once in a while I do think, “I’ll be going home soon”, and then I remember, I’m here for the long term and every once in a while I get an amazing “Oh Wow, I live in Africa now!” feeling- I like those. I think what gets written in these updates is very much the glossier side of my life in Ethiopia- I don’t like to dwell on the more harsh sides of life here, but rest assured it’s not all good. The scale of poverty here is beyond anything I have ever observed- for example, there are children who appear to be living with the drainage system that only really come out at night to scavenge for food and beg. To see them is heartbreaking and they latch on to “Ferenji” like magnets. They act as a sobering reminder that I am living in one of the poorest countries in the world- 77% of the population of Ethiopia live on less than $2 a day...

On a lighter note, Easter weekend saw the Awassa volunteers taking our first trip back to Addis since In Country Training finished way back in February. Thursday morning saw me getting up bright and early (4.30AM) in order to meet up with Laura and Karen to walk to the bus station. After a shower, and a quick bite to eat, I looked outside to realise that near in Ethiopia, at 5.30AM it is pitch black still. Luckily my night guard Taricou offered to walk me down to meet up with the girls, and I was very happy he did. Dark Ethiopian streets are not the place for a Ferenji- we stick out somewhat. After the girls arrived, we headed to the bus station.

Awassa bus station is a daunting experience, and we had all been quite nervous about this trip to Addis, but as we arrived we followed the shouted directions and soon found a non-packed bus. A very friendly man showed us onto the bus, and helped us with our bags- and here lies the first of two lessons I have learnt in the last weeks. After helping us on the man then said “50 birr, ticket”, and like the good Ferenji we are, we paid the man. It was not until a much more official looking chap got onto the bus and started collecting money and issuing tickets did we realise that something was not quite right. We explained with the help of some English/Amharic speaking passengers, that we had already paid. The ticket guy had fetched what seemed to be the boss of the bus station who was now trying to find the guy who had taken our money. In order not to hold up the bus any longer, and get started on the journey we decided to bite the bullet and just pay the fare again. Our fellow passengers and the bus station staff were annoyed that we had to do this, and that an Ethiopian had ripped us off, which in its own way was consolation. So my first lesson learnt is “Never pay your bus fare without getting a ticket!”

Ethiopian bus journeys are an experience to say the least. The journey of just under 300k from Awassa to Addis takes about 6 hours, depending on how bad the traffic on the outskirts of Addis is. The seats are definitely not designed for anyone approaching my height, so I could not say I was particularly comfortable for this time. Halfway to Addis I realised my feet were nudging a pair of live chickens which were obviously on the way to becoming somebody’s Easter Sunday feast. The bus spends 90% of its time on the wrong side of the road- I decided that not being able to see where I was going was probably for the best. Anyhow, we arrived in Addis just after lunch, and after a quick trip on a line taxi we were back at the VSO programme office in Haya Hulet.
Unfortunately, I had a slightly upset stomach for most of the Easter weekend, so maybe I didn’t take as much advantage of my return to Addis as I could have. When volunteers travel we take general advantage of the hospitality of other volunteers, so on the first night I was staying with the delightful Joanne, and then moving over the road for a couple of nights to Colin and Annie’s house with Kevin and Frits, before moving back to Jo’s for the last night. I had only met Jo a couple of weeks before when she was visiting Awassa, but we got on famously, and we spent a lot of the weekend chatting, drinking wine and generally setting the world to rights. Jo has what must be the nicest volunteer house I have ever seen- it’s like an English country cottage has been transplanted into downtown Addis!

I did get out and explore Addis a little and caught up with a lot of volunteers I had not seen since ICT, or had only met very briefly. Returning to Addis was strange- it seemed a very daunting place when I was there during training, but 2 months in Awassa had changed that feeling entirely. It was nice to be in a town where little attention is paid to Ferenji’s and it did make me realise why so we get so much attention in Awassa- I think it’s because we are seen as tourists, and therefore we must be well off.

Easter Sunday was one of the best days I have spent in Ethiopia so far. During the day, Kevin, Frits and I just chilled out and chatted before heading into town for coffee, and then in the evening Jo, Maureen and Tara had rustled up a sumptuous Easter banquet. 11 volunteers sat down to eat that evening, and it was like a big family meal, and a perfect end to a very relaxed weekend.

Monday was an early start, and back on the bus to Sunny Awassa. We didn’t manage to find a straight through bus, so had to change at Sheshemene, and it was here that I learnt my second lesson. We were packed on the bus so tightly that I couldn’t move, and was willing the bus to get us home. A young girl was packed in next to us and all the way to Awassa was attempting to talk to me in Amharic- now my Amharic isn’t good (it’s getting better though!) so the conversation was a little one sided. When we got off the bus, the young girl shot off, and it was only when I got off the bus I realised why- she had scarpered with my phone that she must have lifted from my pocket. I remained calm- not realising straight away it had been stolen I jumped back on the bus to see if I had dropped it on the floor. It was only after Karen attempted to call it to find that it had been turned off did I fully realise it had been stolen. So here is lesson number 2- "Never trust chatty teenagers on buses... And don’t keep your phone in your jacket pocket..."

Luckily for me I had Abrahams help in sorting out a new phone- first thing Tuesday morning we headed to ETC (Ethiopia Telecom) and with his help I came away with a new sim card with my original number for the princely sum of 15 birr. Next I picked up a basic Nokia mobile for 600 birr (£30) and within less than a day, I was back in business. All I need to do now is rebuild my phone book, but at least having my original number means people can still contact me.

And there I think I shall leave it for now.