JOY!

I know I don't write on this blog much anymore, but I feel I should record (for my own posterity and memory), my feelings at being pregnant for the first time, given I'm now halfway through... a monumental thing indeed!

Thoughts, the first. 

As the title of the post suggests, to me it's joy - joy, joy joy ! ! ! - that I have felt most these last 20 weeks. (Or rather, 14, considering I didn't find out til I was 6 weeks in :). And while I'm writing this and not Toni, I'd have to put him in that category too. As my belly has grown, our joy seems to exponentially increase. I never thought I could love someone as much as I love dear Toni these days, not only because he has done a million and one things daily for me to make sure I'm comfortable and healthy, but just to know that we have this whole, new and exciting life together that we cannot predict or really imagine as of now. Seeing the way he constantly cares for me, without being asked, and without complaint, I know how wonderful he'll be as a dad, and it makes me that much more grateful to be a co-parent with him to this darling little one (and then some, insha'Allah!).

When she heard I was expecting, a good friend of ours said 'until now, you've known only two dimensions of love, and now you're going to know a third.' So beautiful! I already feel such a growth in love even with the baby inside, both for this dear child and for Toni too, I can't fathom what that birthday will feel like.

Before you all write me off as a whacked out, idealistic pregnant woman, I know I know it will be hard. I know we won't sleep, I know parenthood turns your lives upside down and you're never the same. But that's what we want. That's why we're having kids. We've lived three decades for ourselves, our own interests and pursuits, it's time we turn our lives over to raising a child and building something larger than just our own lives. I get it, I get that I'll be tired and frustrated and at a loss - you don't need to remind me! (But people love to all the time.) I know the greatest joys I've known have been in times of struggle, when I'm doing hard things, and this hard thing will put the rest to shame. So wouldn't the joy, too? We're ready and prepared for the downs as well as the ups, even if we don't yet know how far down those downs will be. (So stop reminding me, random strangers I don't really know that well and the million begrudging parenting articles out there that say 'you have no idea'. Sheesh.)

Thoughts, the second.

It's no secret I've been working on maternal health for several years now, and when I discovered I was pregnant, just three weeks later I was supposed to fly to the DR Congo to conduct a survey of a pre-conception and ante-natal care project run by Handicap International in the environs of Kinshasa. I would have been 10 weeks pregnant, was already frightfully nauseated, and my GP wouldn't prescribe me with anti-malarials. My boss pulled the plug and sent someone else instead.

I was a bit devastated. I had really wanted to see DR Congo, and the project was fascinating. But I knew I would've been awful at the job, given how sick and tired I was, and ultimately, like my boss said: there's no use me, a maternal health patient, going to remote areas of the Congo to evaluate the very paucity of maternal health services.

It only reinforced to me again how important maternal care and support are, and how grossly unfair it is that I can arbitrarily choose to NOT be in a situation where I would be at risk, just because of my privileged birth in the US, and privileged home in the UK.

This connects with the thoughts above, that ultimately, this pregnancy is only reinforcing to me how very very critical it is that reproduction is chosen, not forced, and that the woman who must undergo the debilitating state of pregnancy, labour, postpartum, is adequately supported. Not just with medical care for any impending crisis (considering they remain the exception, not the rule), but also emotionally, socially, domestically... Toni is the ultimate house-husband these days, and I think of the women I work with who have no relief after conception. Their roles in domestic labour are as arduous as they were before, and the injustice of this is criminal.

At the same time, most African countries (Ethiopia included), allow women to rest 40 days post-birth, to recover her strength, to do NOTHING but learn to nurse that baby, while neighbours, relatives, husbands, take over her own care and all other domestic duties. How alone most women in Europe, in North America, feel post-birth! With a screaming baby, forced to 'snap back' to your old life, your old body. So just to say, we can all learn from the caring and support systems we've developed cross-nations. Can I have both? (With a husband like Toni, methinks yes. I AM SO DANG LUCKY I KNOW IT.)

Thoughts, the conclusion.

We're really, ridiculously happy. We have another ultrasound this week to check on babe's progress, and to see if we're having a boy or girl. I've been feeling those flutters, and 'quickening' of early baby movements for the last two weeks, and I can't wait to see our babe on that screen again! Whatever the outcome, whatever happens with this baby in the next 20 weeks and thereafter, I have been privileged to nurture him/her for these last five months, and my depth of love and feeling has increased. I've been cared and supported by a solid medical system + a solid group of friends, family and husband from day one, and gosh darn it if I will.not.stop working (in whatever capacity that may be, back at the UN? at an NGO? in academia?) on issues of maternal health globally to ensure that level of care is the norm, not a privileged exception.


The end.

Per request!

Toni is basically the nicest husband ever. His support to me- especially these last four (!!!) months of pregnancy and sickness and fatigue - has been so wonderful. I love him.

He also said very nice things about me on Facebook after church yesterday and the talk I gave in Sacrament Meeting. Per Leslie and Steph's request - I've copied it all below. I wanted to talk about the importance of women in the church, and how much they've done for the organisation and its members. And I wanted to relate this to Christ's ministry which concentrated so much on women, and put up some arguments about how much we need to support and care for the oppressed of the earth. This is all sort of my testimony in it's rawest state, and I cried quite a bit towards the end - reading Christ's words to the Pharisees, and talking about Sister Yewinshet from Ethiopia. Phew! People were very kind after, and so many women (especially single, elderly, childless etc) told me they needed that talk - they needed to have someone talk about them in an "unconventional" way - remind us all how AMAZING early church women were in their leadership and strength, their outspokenness to guide the Gospel. (Not to say women are not amazing now, I just wish they were more visible :)

Ok, will stop there :) Here you go-

Astonishingly enough, I’m actually happy to speak to you today - Brother Reeves asked if I’d be willing to speak on one of the general Relief Society Presidents of the church, as part of this month’s Sacrament theme of Prophets. I nearly teared up reading his email, so happy to see such a welcome inclusion of women in the history of the church. I chose Eliza R Snow as the subject of my talk, a woman who is incredibly interesting and inspiring to me, and was also an intrinsic part of the early church’s development. Given we get a whole year of lessons based on her brother, the Prophet Lorenzo Snow, Eliza deserves at least a Sacrament talk - if not much more! I hope that in my talk I am able to do justice to this woman, and the powerful work of the early Relief Society. For me and my own testimony of the Gospel, it’s very important to reclaim some of the more radical and diverse elements of our history. In my professional life, both at home and abroad, I have seen both impoverished communities and women especially crushed under customs which demand their silence. It is hard to not see how poverty and gender both continue to lead to the worst forms of oppression across the globe. I love the Gospel because we follow Jesus Christ in all things, and it was He who said ‘the first shall be last, and the last shall be first.’ I cannot wait for the day when the humbled of the earth are given their true seat of dignity, and what I love about Eliza Snow and the work of the Relief Society is the way in which this organization, shaped so much by the leadership of President Snow, does nothing so well as lift up the lowly and preach a Gospel of inclusivity. For me, that is the core of what we are meant to do as disciples of Jesus Christ, and in studying powerful examples of such inclusive leadership, I’m inspired to do better - to not just wait for that eventual day when the last shall be first, but try to work on that here and now.

Eliza Snow was a unique woman from the very outset of her life. She broke restrictive customs and was not afraid to assert her place and share her talents. Born to progressive parents, she received all the educational opportunities given to her brothers. Her father, a Justice of the Peace in the American state of Iowa, hired Eliza in his office to act as a clerk. This position was incredibly influential on Eliza’s later work in organising and administering the Relief Society Organisation - she was able to develop skills at that time reserved for men, and was also not shy about working within a “man’s world.”

Eliza’s conversion to Mormonism itself is also striking in demonstrating her prioritisation of personal growth and knowledge. She first met Joseph Smith in Kirtland, Ohio in 1831, but didn’t join the church until four years after. She was deliberate and thoughtful about converting to the church, following a sincere method of enquiry and introspection that I find again, very inspiring. Eliza didn’t do anything lightly - she was not a follower, she pursued knowledge and truth in a slow, questioning manner that only proved to create a firmer testimony in herself later on. Describing her final decision to join the church, Eliza explained that in a period of meditative reflection, “I saw a beautiful candle with an unusually long, bright blaze directly over my feet. I sought to know the interpretation and received the following: The lamp of intelligence shall be lighted over your path, and I was satisfied.”

That phrase “the lamp of intelligence” is so beautiful, and shows how Eliza privileged the education she could receive in the church, of both temporal and spiritual things. As her life and work moved forward, Eliza continued to not only improve her own knowledge and learning, but inspired other women around her to do the same. Eliza Snow is probably best known in the church for the beautiful hymns she wrote - especially “O, My Father.” Eliza was an incredibly talented and renown poet and writer, and was even asked to pen a national obituary at the death of President Abraham Lincoln. While “O, My Father” is particularly beautiful in its message about our Heavenly Mother, I want to read some lines of another one of her less famed hymns, number 273 “Truth Reflects Upon Our Senses.” I want to read the last two verses because again, they typify to me the way in which Eliza preached this Gospel of inclusivity:

If I love my neighbor dearer, and his mote I would erase,
the light should shine the clearer, for the eye’s a tender place.
Others I have oft reproved, for an object like a mote,
now I wish this beam removed, oh, that tears would wash it out.

Charity and love are healing; these will give the clearest sight,
when I saw my brother’s failing, I was not exactly right.
Now I’ll take no further trouble; Jesus’ love is all my theme;
little motes are but a bubble when I think upon the beam.

While these words completely and beautifully summarize our need to not judge others, I want to point out that Eliza Snow herself would in many ways be considered an “outsider” in the ways she defied customary expectations of Mormon women. While she was married to Brigham Young, Eliza never had children. Brigham Young called her a “Priestess, Prophetess, and Presidentess” of the church, and she held numerous leadership positions in the church - not only as General Relief Society President, but also president of Deseret Hospital in Salt Lake City, prolific author and editor of the newspaper the Women’s Exponent, and president of the Women’s Department of the Endowment House. Eliza traveled heavily - both within the US and also to Egypt and Palestine. While never a mother or housewife, Eliza did not see this as some personal failure, despite the church’s heavy emphasis on home and family, especially for women. Eliza believed fully in working to build up the Gospel of Christ, and encouraged all residents of the expanding Salt Lake valley to do the same thing - no matter their age, station or gender. Eliza did not judge, and she did not expect everyone to be the same - she encouraged members of the church to use their talents where they were best served, both in secular and spiritual callings.

One niece of Brigham Young wrote to Eliza feeling dejected that a potential marriage suit had fallen through. She asked the President, “Will I ever get married?” In reply, Eliza wrote “while unmarried, one cannot be fulfilling the requisition of maternity, but let me ask, is it not important that those already born should be cultivated and reared as that others should be born?” In other words, there’s plenty of work to be done to uplift and instruct each other - motherhood aside. There’s much work we can all do at all stages of our life, and there is not one way to work in the Gospel of Christ - we all have a mission and a responsibility unique to our own talents. There’s no room for judgment on what stage anyone is at in their own lives - we’re all striving to be like Christ and follow His example, and in the end that’s all that matters.

Eliza continued to champion women especially in their capacity to work and improve their lives and those of others around them - to the Relief Society sisters, President Snow said, “If any of the daughters and mothers in Israel are feeling in the least limited in their present spheres, they will now find ample scope for every power and capability for doing good with which they are most liberally endowed.” The vehicle of this remarkable organization of women, the Relief Society, would support and allow women to expand their spheres and do good within their community. In the early church, one of the principle ways this was manifest was the incredible number of women who were sent to medical schools for training to become doctors and nurses. President Snow said to the Relief Society sisters, “are there here, now, any sisters who have ambition enough, and realize the necessity of it, to take up this study? There are some who are naturally inclined, and such ones would do well to study Medicine… if they cannot meet their own expenses, we have means of doing so.” With the number of educated sisters at hand, the Relief Society established the Deseret Hospital in 1882, residents of Salt Lake had access to quality medical care, and a whole generation of women were educated that otherwise would not have been.

For me, this is the pinnacle of that lamp of intelligence Eliza had seen while studying the Gospel. She had said that the Relief Society was just as much a part of the restoration of Christ’s church as the Priesthood or Temple. Indeed, she felt profoundly the need to follow Christ’s example fully, especially in His ministry to the needy and outcast members of society. When you study Christ’s ministry in detail, it is obvious how often He was chastised for speaking with and healing those members of society supposedly too far below Him - not worthy of His attention. When the woman taken into adultery was brought to Christ by an angry mob intent on stoning her, the clerics of the day were attempting to trick Christ into defending such a sinful creature. Instead, He responded with the beautiful line, “let he who is without sin, cast the first stone.” When the woman came to wash Christ’s feet with expensive ointment and her tears, the Pharisees again, chastised Him for allowing such a renown sinner to touch his feet and enter His company - saying that if Christ was truly a Prophet, He would know who that woman was and would not have allowed her near. In response, Christ says, in Luke 7:44-48:

And he turned to the woman, and said unto Simon, seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head.

Thou gavest me no kiss: but this woman hath since the time I came in hath not ceased to kiss my feet.

My head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment.

Wherefore, I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.

And he said to the woman, Thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace.

Or another of my favourite stories, of the woman at the well. When Christ approached the woman for a drink, His Apostles had left Him, and the woman was astonished, asking (in John 4:9):

How is it that thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria? For the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans.

To me, Christ reversed the social order, lifting up those that others had cast aside because of their poverty or sins. It’s not a coincidence to me that so many of those He ministered to in this way were women. With the theme, Charity Never Faileth, the Relief Society is to me the most natural restoration of Christ’s mission. Built up by remarkable foremothers like Eliza R Snow, I’m so happy to be a member of that organisation which does nothing but lift and support our ward and community members without judgment. I think about all the Relief Society congregations I’ve been privileged to be a part of since I turned 18, and think President Snow would be proud to see what the organisation she worked so hard to build had become in these days. I want to end in telling you about the Relief Society in my branch in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia last year. With less than ten members, it was a small group of women, but was led by President Yewinshet, an amazing woman whose dedication and faith were truly inspiring to me. Like most Mormons in Ethiopia, Yewinshet was the only member in her family. Inactivity in the branch was exceptionally common - every week there was at least two baptisms, but the number of people who continued to come to meetings remained small. But Yewinshet never missed a Sunday. Born blind, Yewinshet ran a small training school she had built for disabled people to learn essential jobs skills so they wouldn’t have to rely on begging to survive. She worked with hardly any budget, and gave all of herself - her time, her resources, her talents - both to that important work, and to the sisters of the Relief Society. Every week she bore a strong testimony of her faith in God, a faith that to be honest, in her circumstances, and given the opposition I know she faced at home, I doubt I would be strong enough to profess. Yewinshet was dedicating her life to serving the downtrodden of society - she did so without praise or acclaim, and to me, is the ultimate example of the love we as disciples of Christ are meant to project.

I hope that we can learn from the example of Eliza Snow, and so many around us, who use their unique talents to follow Christ and build up His people. We’re all outsiders in one way or another, but those external social markers mean little in comparison to our heart’s desire to serve Christ’s people - like King Benjamin said, “we are all beggars,” giving what little we have.

I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

let the post-Ethiopia decompression officially begin.

HOME.

settling in (this is a long one, guys)

There are so many things to get used to being back in Germany, in Europe, in the 'first world.' Small things like when I leave a room I don't have to stow away all electronics to prevent the roof from leaking on them when it rains. Big things like CLEAN WATER OMG. Clothes that get clean, body that gets clean! Food that doesn't make you sick in the least. Variety in food! We haven't been to a supermarket yet, but I know it will be a shock. What I have learned most is the value of working sewage and water treatment systems. This is everything for quality of life. Without them, you have so much unnecessary illness, dirt and smells. I keep telling Toni, I would eat off every surface in Germany everything looks so dang CLEAN.
The thing is, Addis Ababa is not really Ethiopia. Whenever we'd go out to the provinces, to where 85% of the population lives, we'd realize how removed Addis is - how Europeanized and fancy in so many ways. Finding a working toilet is a challenge in Addis, but they do exist. Life there is luxurious - just ask dear Zemzem, the young Guraghe woman who we shared a house with. She supports her whole family (mother + 5 siblings) on her $40/month salary - they still live out in Soddo, in a thatched tukul/cottage, farming teff and barley. For us, the house in Addis came with new challenges - barricading every nook and cranny to prevent full rat invasion, "leaky" roofing, bad plumbing, daily power outages. For Zemzem, this house was incredibly luxe.

Where we grow up so determines what we consider proper living standards, but I know that everyone here in Germany - with their amazing infrastructure and clean streets - is not much happier than people in Ethiopia, despite a much lower physical standard of living. This is a fallacy of much charitable/development thinking, that everyone in physical poverty is also emotionally impoverished. No in fact, that's another thing to get used to being away from Ethiopia - the lack of community in the sense that everyone is constantly greeting each other, asking if they can help each other - there is an amazing camaraderie that "developed" countries have in some sense abandoned. So many people now live alone, shuttling themselves between places in cars, so this constant interaction you get in African countries, with 12 people to one home, crowded public transport and lots of walking, is very much missing.

The point is. I read this really good op-ed in the New York Times, written by Warren Buffet's son. It's a very honest critique of the charitable industry that does more to pump up the egos of donors than actually improve peoples' lives. I can attest to this a million times over, seeing how organizations work on the ground in the countries I've been working in the last years. I think the issue lies in this critical misunderstanding of people living in physical poverty. They've been simplified and blanketed to be these pathetic, unintelligent creatures who are happy for just any hand-out, but have no self determination, capacity, or even desire to improve their own lives. Let me tell you, people are people everywhere (duh) - sure, Ethiopians are not miserable, they are strong and quite happy people, but every family I met with told me how much they'd love to get rid of the open sewage running outside their doors. They want to be able to pay for healthcare, and not just stay at home and languish in pain from disease because they don't have the $10 or $30 for treatment. These are real problems they are frustrated with, that they themselves acknowledge. Would you like someone to come in and tell you what needs fixing in your own life? Don't you know what challenges you face more than anyone? But no, these are just "people in need," and "we" know what's best for them.

What's needed (like the article says) is systematic change. It's governments stepping up and taking control of the social contract they're meant to have with their people. It's the end of pandering to people in power, but listening instead to those "at the bottom." (Remember the "first shall be last and the last shall be first?" My favourite.) It's for all the ridiculous humanitarian organizations and donor representatives to stop sending "experts" over to a country for a 2 week stint where they stay in a 5-star hotel and visit a school and take pictures with the kids and say the have "been to Africa." No you have not. There is no incentive to change the systemic challenges of physical poverty because those in charge - those who are responsible for making the decisions - are themselves so far removed from the reality of food insecure, rural African livelihoods. They make demands of people in these situations that make no sense, all in the guise of "development." (This is a big part of my PhD thesis, I am still doing that after all. :)

No one wants to actually live in physically poor situations - the USAID office in Addis? Everyone who works there gets a mansion with a generator and back-up water supply. They are allowed an initial 2,000 pounds of food shipped into the country from the US so they don't have to deal with the limited Ethiopian fare. They get direct shipments from Amazon.com while in Ethiopia to further ensure they don't "miss" anything. And these are the people making decisions for developing rural Ethiopia? How can they possibly understand what life there is actually like? A couple "field visits" doesn't cut it. You have to LIVE there. You have to live the reality of no running water and a thatched cottage home and walking 40 km to a health station with no staff as your only recourse for treatment.

There is much that is wrong in the world - but not in the way it's traditionally depicted. And while we have an obscene level of privilege, given the infrastructure we are blessed with for no other reason than we were lucky enough to be born in a first world country, we are not more privileged in emotional or intellectual capacity, and should never ever think we can determine others' happiness by our own measures.

You can tell I'm still reeling from all we've experienced and seen. I will be for months and years, just as I still haven't fully "processed" Mozambique, Niger, or Brazil. Besides, my engagement with these worlds is never ended - I'm back in Zambia in less than 3 weeks, then the Congo in September. I wouldn't feel myself if I wasn't constantly engaged with this. I'd miss it all too much.

But for now. For the next 2 weeks, it's time to do very little except re-acquaint ourselves with milk and cereal, bread and cheese - chat with Toni's family, take bike rides, WALK BAREFOOT mmmmm. It's so so so deliciously lovely here I could burst. We're so happy. I think I could easily say I am happier today than at any point in my life. Toni is a dream husband, we did it all together, and I'm so grateful for that. Life is good, y'all. Life is good.

UPDATE: officially going to Kinshasa on 7 July!!

Let the great experiment begin!!!

on doing hard things

Many of you know that in addition to doing my PhD, I'm working as a "Senior Research Associate" for Anthrologica, a small consultancy firm started by a fellow Oxford-er that evaluates global health projects using the principles of applied anthropology towards improved efficacy. Since January, I've done stints for them in Zambia and Nigeria, and I may possibly squeeze in another job in Kinshasa, DR Congo in July before Toni and I leave Ethiopia. Ah! On one hand, the prospect is thrilling - the job is with Handicap International, and I'd be evaluating their work on maternal health, so seeing how handicapped mothers have been better served since the organization started working there 5 years back. Interviewing these women and hearing about their experiences, and hopefully coming away with honest ways to improve their care is incredibly exciting.

But. It's also daunting - I'd have to work in French again, first of all, a language I last worked in 3 languages/6 years ago. It also would mean I'd spend a large chunk of my last month in Ethiopia in the Congo, which really just makes me a bit tired.

I'm tired. We've been in Ethiopia since last year, it's been a fantastic but exhausting time. With just a month left in the country, I'd love to just smoothly and easily wrap up the loose ends, pack, buy last minute gifts, and fly off in peace. Uprooting again for a brief stint and getting entirely acquainted with a whole new set of cultural parameters, in a rusty language... ah! It all sounds very hard.

But I remember Stephanie (right?) saying at one point (on her blog?) "I can do hard things." And that's how I have to approach this. I HAVE done hard things, right? I went to Mozambique at 19. I moved to Brazil all alone. I've been living in Ethiopia for almost a year - I mean c'mon! And not as if Zambia and Nigeria were picnics - Nigeria especially. I've always been a peripatetic person, love being engaged with new ways of thinking on living to turn my pre-concieved notions of daily living on their head, but I feel this longing for a settled "peace" tugging at another side of me. A side that wasn't there 8 years ago when I shipped off to Damascus or Paris...

Still. I can't predict exactly what life Toni and I will have in the next 10, 20 years, but I can't imagine trips to Kinshasa won't be a regularly featured part of it. I have to regain that confident (foolhardy?) side of me again.

It's not even certain I'm going! I'll know next week. But in the meantime it's all food for thought. Going outside of ourselves and whatever comfortable routine we've created - even if for me that comfortable routine is now in a "foreign" place like Addis Ababa... it's never easy. But I can't back down now! Right?

kocho!

As y'all know, Toni and I spent some weeks in Southern Ethiopia this last month - I was there for some research, and Toni kindly came along to see more of this country we call home. The cultural make-up in Southern Ethiopia is completely different from the highland areas we live in in Addis Ababa, and with new cultures comes new cuisine - the mainstream Amhara settled down south when Emperor Menelik expanded the Ethiopian empire in the late 1800s, so you can find injera, berbere, the staples of mainstream highland cuisine down there. But the collection of pastoralist groups in the South Omo valley (where we were in Jinka) subsist almost entirely on sorghum and milk, with the occasional animal killed and eaten. (Variety in what you eat = chalk that up to be another HUGE luxury aligned with running water and electricity)

Two other groups, the Dorze and Guraghe, eat the "false banana" plant for every meal. (It looks just like a banana tree, but doesn't produce bananas.) It's the most versatile plant! You can make anything out of it's leaves, roots, and fibers. But the most typical way to prepare it is like this - as "Kocho," a slightly fermented tasting flat "bread" eaten with spices or honey or meat. Since I showed you the steps of preparation for injera, it wouldn't be a full Ethiopian experience if I didn't show you the other staple food!

We visited this kind woman's home and she prepared the Kocho for us…

Peeling off a strip of that black bark you see on all the trees..

Bingo then ties the strip to the plank and starts stripping the inner flesh out of the bark.

After she's stripped it clean, leaving just the fibers (as you see on the left), she starts to dig out her stash of the stuff buried underground, where it ferments.

It's all wrapped in banana leaves, hidden underground - when you strip the stuff off the bark, it smells like fresh cucumber. After a few months fermenting underground, the smell is very very potent, needless to say :)

She takes out a bunch that had been underground, and pats it down into a patty.

The neighbourhood gang. :)

Bingo then takes another big leaf to wrap up the ball/patty of the "dough."

Then we go inside her home where she cooks the Kocho. (It's wrapped in that leaf on her stove.

They use eucalyptus leaves/branches for kindling, so the fire is super yummy smelling. (Eucalyptus were planted en masse in the mid-20th century all over Ethiopia to replace the depleted natural forests)

And there it is! Super bad picture, sorry. But you can see it turns almost into a thick pita bread - all from that one ingredient! That's it! - she cut it into squares and we dip it in a spicy oil/berbere mixture. Yum!

dorze, ethiopia

As you will have all seen from instagram, Toni and I were down south for a couple weeks in May. It was glorious - my favourite part of Ethiopia so far. The people were wonderful, everything was a bit more relaxed - less tourists than the historic northern route! And the scenery was to die for. I had to share some more pictures. Do indulge me! 

This was the view from where we stayed at Dorze, that mountain-top collection of villages we went to. We looked down onto two massive crocodile-and-hippo-filled lakes. The air was so clean and clear - ah! Heaven.

Morning sunrise.

Our home!!

As I said on Instagram, this is the region where all the weavers are from - so when you're walking all around the mountain, people are working in various stages of creating the thread, stretching the thread, weaving... all against this gorgeous natural backdrop.

Potato field! And Toni and Getu - Getu was from Dorze, showed us everything - taught us a bit of Dorzinha (local tongue), introduced us to residents and farmers. He made the experience so much better. If any of you come to Ethiopia - go local as much as possible. So much better! (Let us know and we'll set you up ;)

Because Dorze is at almost 3000 meters, the whole place is literally in the clouds. Walking around up there is just surreal and utterly serene.

I had to include this to illustrate what NOT to do when you want to help "develop" a country. This is an evangelical church built by World Vision in Chencha, a town 10km from Dorze. The "Christian" NGO came in and told locals they would help them with income generating opportunities - mostly giving out apple trees for people to sell the fruit (we're buying some apples right now from this lady). The catch was, to receive the aid, you had to convert to evangelical Christianity. The result? A select group of people have made tons of money by selling apples across the Ethiopian market, while those who stuck to their own Orthodox Christianity are left with nothing - no benefit whatsoever. People in Dorze for example are extremely fond of their Orthodox faith, and refused to convert. So they've received no development aid. You're punishing people for their belief, and creating artificial haves and have-nots. It was so so so frustrating to see it in person. Gah! I get so angry again just writing this. Poverty IS extreme in Ethiopia - but this is not not not the right way to "help."

Last shot - happier note! Here's one of the shops set up on the side of the road to sell the locally woven goods. Gorgeous, no? (I bought out nearly the whole place :)

we are here:

Where that red marker is - the small town of Jinka, in the Southern Nations, Nationalities, and People's Region (SNNPR) of Ethiopia. Seventeen different ethnic groups live here, "together in love" as a local friend told me :) The region is so different from mainstream "habesha" Ethiopia, from the geography to the cultures. It's breathtakingly beautiful - you can only arrive overland, and our bus ride was stunning. Gorgeous mountains and valleys covered with positively fluorescent green trees. It's hard to describe accurately, and I'm afraid the bus we were on was crowded to the hilt, and thus pictures were difficult to get :) Will try better on the way back.

I'm here for my research, and Toni kindly came along as my protector. (ha!) I'm trying to see how healthcare systems developed in these more "remote" areas of the country. The whole region was virtually handed over to foreign missionaries by Haile Selassie, so I had been in touch with some older doctors and midwives from the Norwegian Lutheran Mission. They very kindly offered Toni and I to stay at their compound in Jinka adjacent the mission hospital (now government-run). How insane to stay at a mission hospital in the backwoods of Ethiopia, am I right? I admit our lives really are crazy.

That being said, this compound is amazing. The flat we're in is gorgeous, with a screened in porch, surrounded by mango, banana, and papaya trees - with our own kitchen, running (hot!) water - the works! It's such a lush spot, we're incredibly contented.... I pinch myself how well Toni and I have been treated all over the world by friends and friends of friends. We've met the most interesting people, I feel I've done a rubbish job at returning the hospitality. Maybe when we have a real house (or at least more than 1 room apartment) someday..?

No matter what, I'm consistently in awe of how vast the world is, how diverse the people are and the lives they live. I feel like we'll come back from Ethiopia still reeling from what we've seen. Absurd really to think we could write PhDs on this place and be some kind of "expert." ha. The truth is we really have no idea. Maybe that's what I should write? Over and over again for 100,000 words: I have no idea. :)

loves from the deep south
jooj.

Igzhabier ymesgin!!**

By heaven, just when you think you know a place! The most remarkable thing happened this last week:

Toni was mugged by a band of street kids last Wednesday. A group of them surrounded him and very deftly pickpocketed his backpack, where he had a wallet with 300 Ethiopian birr (about $15), plus his passport and Ethiopian residence card. (He doesn't usually carry his passport - he had an appointment at the German Embassy that day). We cursed our luck, went to the police, made a report, and started the process of replacing them.

Then! Then! Yesterday evening, our friend Mekdes called to say the police had called her asking if she knew a "Toni Johannes," and that they had his passport. Wha?! Toni arrived at the designated police station this morning, and there it was - his complete wallet, everything intact (aside from the 300 birr of course). A policeman found it lying on the sidewalk way across town from where Toni was mugged. Miraculously, he searched through it, found an old SIM card of Toni's that he put in his own phone, found Mekdes' number, and called her.

Did you ever hear the story of my car being stolen in Washington DC? I filed a police report, of course, but 3 weeks later - no car. We got the insurance pay-out, and then! The next day, a woman called - the car had been abandoned outside her house for 3 weeks. About a mile from where it had been stolen. She had called the police multiple times to report it. It had a dozen parking tickets on it. She finally just opened the thing (of course it was unlocked), found my name and number, and called me up. I called the police to tell them they're complete idiots and the car had been there for a month, reported again and again back to them, and then! Then the best part - the day after I called the police, they call me and say "good news! We found your car!" C'mon.

The point is, that was a full car. This was just a wallet with some random foreigners' IDs in it. They didn't have to go to all that trouble to trace it back to us - and how bout those street kids? They could have done something else with it all besides leaving it clearly for someone to find and potentially return it back to it's owner. They just wanted the money to buy food or khat. (While seemingly a pittance, 300 birr would be about a good month's salary for a street worker/labourer.) And the police did all this without asking for anything, no bribes or gifts or anything. I'm honestly amazed.

You see Ethiopia can sometimes be a really really hard place to live. "Ferenji" (foreigners) stand out like crazy, and sometimes you can really feel unwelcome and as one friend remarked, the "subject of aggressive curiosity." Ha. I won't go into more specifics, but needless to say it can feel depressing, and it's easy to ask what on earth we're doing here? Wouldn't everyone be better off on their own?

But that's not the full story, of course. We have also been welcomed so warmly by so many others. So much of my work is going home to home to talk to old women, and they are kinder than anything. I love that. And then when you think that this whole country is inordinately opaque, that we'll never understand it or feel 'a part,' then the police - notoriously corrupt or inept elsewhere! (hello, DC!) - go and surprise us with their excellent work and honesty. Sheesh.

**Praise be to God!

celebrating 2 (fast! joyous!) years highland Amhara style

After two days in Lalibela town, Toni and I hiked up to the flat top of that mountain you see there. Toni hefted my bag too, but the mule man above hefted most of it. Seriously tough dude. We should have paid him more...!

Views on the way up were spectacular - this is the sister mountain. There's a monastery on top of it, but only 15-18 year old boys (monks-in-training) live there. Hard to imagine it being super serenely monastic with those kinds of residents, no? :)

We used the main foot highway passing through loads of hamlets and farms used by all villagers up to 50 km this direction from Lalibela - notice the women laden down with goods + donkeys loaded up. What we call 'hiking' or 'exercise' is what they call 'everyday life.' Honestly. If you could see how they all live! Our lives are so cushy I can't even say.

Letting some cows go past. It's a very busy road!

And this is what you see when you get to the top of the mountain - the first traditional homes (called 'tukul') of this little lodge called Hudad, where we stayed for 3 nights!

There's our tukul, with our only water source in the foreground. The place blends in to the local surrounds, so no power, no running water... the way the vast majority of Ethiopians live.

Hello! Toni taking in the morning air, viewed from the luxe inside of our tukul. Because it's 3,300 m high and on an open plateau, the nights were frigid and windy. So they supplied us with sweaters and hats made by local monks. Super warm and cozy! I lived in mine.

View from our tukul. Gah!

This is right at the entrance to the plateau, looking into the mountain - it was Saturday and the main market day in Lalibela town. All these people are going home from the market carting their goods - they can walk 2-3 days each way to get there, as Lalibela is the closest town and market option available. And there are hardly any roads through this rugged terrain. We wonder why 90% of women in Ethiopia give birth at home, unattended? Think of how spread out everyone is, clamouring for whatever land they can get to grow their crops and secure some sort of living. 85% of the economy is agriculture, and land is scarce with 80+ million people. So every inch of these mountains is claimed and tilled, even up to 3500m.

View from the top.

The lodge we stayed at has just 4 tukuls, and a little cooking area where local women cook DELISH food over an open fire. Here we're making injera, the typical bread (see the domed, roundish pan shape?)

There was a copy of John Steinbeck's complete short novels at the lodge - some previous traveller left it. Score! I read through three of them. 'The Pearl' felt particularly apropos. I kept thinking of you, Leslie - knowing you love Steinbeck!

Squinty but happy. Yay for being married! Can't believe how the time has flown. This is our 3rd country and 3rd continent to call home since getting hitched. Mad, no? So happy I found someone who will do this all with me. It's heaps better together.

lalibela!

We got a last-minute 5am ride to Lalibela from Bahir Dar in this guy's truck. The landscape between was stunning, loads of craggy mountains and farms, farms, and more farms. The road was quite decent except for the last 70 km on dirt/gravel, and you're having to slow down all the time because of wayward cows, donkeys, sheep, etc. It is farmland, after all!

Our car needed a tire change - lots of gravel roads! Meet our fellow traveller: this super nice American dude (from Ventura!) who has been backpacking straight for 7 years. !!!

Lalibela! We made it in the evening, then were at the churches 7:30 am the next morning. This is how you enter the first complex (there are 3 main complexes, all connected by underground tunnels and passageways). The church pictured is by far the largest of all 12 in Lalibela, and the largest monolithic church anywhere in the world. Look at it! All carved direct down into the stone sometime between the 11th-13th centuries by King Lalibela (thus the town's name). You can see that honking lip of stone to the right, between the two main courtyards. Locals say it took 25 years to carve them all with the help of angels. Archeologists say 125 years, with up to 40,000 people. Ai ai ai.

The stone is a very pretty pinkish red, contrasted best by all of the priests and locals walking around draped in the typical Ethiopian white gabi.

One of the many carved passageways - madness!

There we are looking so cute in front of another of the churches, Bet Maryam (dedicated to Mary): the most popular with worshipers. These massive metal pillars are used to support new roofs built by UNESCO to protect the churches from erosion. Ethiopia gets 3 straight months of heavy rains, and the ceilings are starting to show it!

The inside of Medhane Alem church (again - all carved into the mountain! c'mon!). Priests in the middle chanting - gorgeously surreal. The whole thing is more transportive than most anything I've ever done.

Mary's church again - priests are ALSO chanting outside as well. To become an Orthodox priest, you have to memorise loads of holy books of the Bible, and the way they do it is through sing-chanting en masse.

Me in one of the caverns between 2 churches. Gorge - in both senses of the word.

Bet Giorgis is the only church that hasn't been covered by UNESCO roofs because it's drainage system is quite good - you can see the gutters on the roof! So it makes for perhaps the most impressive of all the clusters. It's incredibly precise, and seriously too beautiful to creep up on as you walk through the town.

There we are again on the lip of Giorgis - the guide we had was super rad, and also a stellar photographer! :)

Man reading the Bible in the door to some of the monk's homes.

The yellow gabi is for a monk or hermit in training. He's also carrying what looks like a thermos of tej, the local honey beer.

This church they think was originally carved as King Lalibela's palace. Check out how deep it is!

I loved this one - only partially monolithic as the mountain was still attached to the roof, but it was carved all around, and of course inside. But it was so pink! Like a Sadie or Stella church :)

This last picture is from a cliff 3 hours' hike from Lalibela where we visited the very first carved church, Ashete Maryam (I instagrammed it!). These priests live in these homes carved direct into the rock behind them to the left - you can see steps entering in. Mind you it's about 3000m+ too! It's just such an amazing place. None of these pictures can capture it fully!