June 3rd.
Monday we left Arbaminch at 6:00 in the morning. Father knew of a shorter route with better roads through the mountains. And it was. Although the roads were dirt, they were much smoother than the temporary roads which skirted us around the road construction. The scenery was beautiful. As we climbed we had awesome views of the lakes. The mountains were very populated at the lower elevations, rich with agriculture on terraced fields. The dwellings here were very different. They were very tall, thatched buildings, mainly circular, but seemed to have a front porch or entry way. They were very graceful and well-kept. As we climbed higher, the area was much more alpine, with great expanses of conifers. It really became a horse culture, both as transportation and work. Plowing was still done with oxen. The area was lush, green and cool.
We came out within 20 km of Soto, (for those of you following our journey on a map, both Arbaminch and Soto are on the map I found on the Encyclopedia Britannica site.) We stopped very little, so reached Addis in about 11 hours…right at rush hour. The van went on to the city of Debre Zeyit, where the Brothers have a retreat center on the lake, Babugaya. The truck went to the Postulancy building to pick up luggage. Unfortunately, the luggage truck was delayed by traffic, so it stayed in the city overnight. The group met up the next morning to begin the journey to Dire Dawa.
Dire Dawa, “the Queen City of the Desert”, is hot. May is the hottest month, but someone forgot to change the calendar. It is 11:00 am as I write and it must be pushing 100 degrees. Although last night was cool. Air-conditioning certainly hasn’t made it here yet. We asked Br. Tadele if his room had air conditioning and he nodded yes as he showed us his tiny box fan. Obviously definitions of “air conditioning” vary around the world!
Leaving Babugaya, we passed an area that was heavily agricultural. Many fields were being plowed by oxen, a now familiar site. The area did not have the diversity which the area South of Addis enjoyed. Most of the fields seemed to be maize. The area didn’t seem as prosperous either.
As we moved eastward, we again seemed to pass through several tribal areas, witnessed by style of structures and dress. Although still in the highlands we passed through a very arid area. Here, farms thinned and a pastoralist lifestyle was evident. There were great herds of goats, camels and cattle. One of the herds we passed must have easily had over 1000 head of cattle. The herdsmen all carried rifles. The men wore Afro hair styles, either a western style shirt or a loose waist length tunic and a knee length piece of cloth wrapped around their waste. The women really didn’t have a very distinctive way of dress. Most had their heads covered, long dresses with a length of cloth twisted around the waist. Many wore a bright saffron yellow. For ornamentation many women had necklaces made of large chunks of amber or intricately embroidered collars.
The dwellings here were typical of the Maasai or Turkana people of Kenya. They are moveable villages, as they continually move to better pasture lands. The huts are made of small branches covered with mud and dung topped with a tarp. Each year they might return to the same camp. Each encampment is surrounded by thorn branches to protect the herds from predators and theft (the reason herders carry rifles for the larger herds that cannot be brought home for the night). Many of these groups have the same creation narrative: God gave cattle to them, so they really aren’t rustling, they are just taking back what God gave to them. The herd is a bank account on a hoof. They buy a bride, they provide life. The relationship between animal and man is very close. Cattle are not eaten. These tribes survive on milk and blood taken from the animal.
We stopped in the town of Awash for breakfast. Omelets (or Omleets on the menu) and coffee. The coffee here is strong and there was a special coffee waitress for those who wished traditional coffee without milk. She sat on the floor, which even in the restaurant the small area was covered with a fresh grass (which is actually available for sale in the markets). She had all the cups arranged on a low table in front of her. There were two braziers of charcoal, one to hold the black ceramic pot, keeping it hot and the other to keep a continuous supply of coals and to burn incense from a small basket she kept nearby. Every order of coffee was accompanied by a pinch of incense.
From Awash we began to climb to a higher elevation. The people seemed much poorer and the towns mainly of very small shops made of mud, with a tin roof. There were two crops, maize and chaa. Chaa is a mild drug, legal, but none-the-less, a drug. It is sold mainly to the Arab countries to the north. Truck drivers use it to stay awake, but long time use leads to insanity it seems. The dwellings here are long rectangular buildings. It took me a while to figure out the larger building in relationship to the apparent poverty. They some started having two doors: a dwelling for both people and their animals.
We passed rusting shells of several military tanks, remnants of the war with Somalia in the late 1970s, grim reminders that many of the problems of this country are man-made.
At the highest elevation, it was very cool and raining hard. Then we dropped back into the Rift Valley. Probably at least a 3000 ft. difference by a constant series of hairpin curves. Brother Kassu was tired so I took over the wheel of the luggage truck for the last 60 km. My driving skills, honed in Kenya came in handy. Not only do you have to negotiate the road, but around all the people, goats, cows and donkey which also share the same road. It make for an interesting drive.
We finally arrive at Besrate Gabriel school at about 4:00 in the afternoon. Besrate Gabriel means the Annunciation of Gabriel (the story in the Gospels when the angel Gabriel “announces” to Mary that she would bear the Christ child, the Son of God), a fitting name for a school that announces the good news! We were greeted by a banner over the drive and a great number of children who were still in the school yard, even though classes ended at noon (because of the heat). During final quarter of the school year, which corresponds to the hottest part of the year, the day begins at 7:00 am and ends at noon. The boys immediately engaged themselves in a game of basketball and the girls volleyball. Thankfully afterward, there was enough water for showers. Dire Dawa is a city of 400,000 and because of some problem there has not been water for several days. We are all staying at the brothers residence. They have moved beds into their library for the boys and the girls are in the adjoining building.
I rose early to attend 6:00 mass. The mass is in the compound of the Conventual Franciscan, who live next door. Next to that is a school run by the School Sisters of Notre Dame from India. Mass was in Amharic, but it was the Roman Rite, so I could follow it pretty closely. Breakfast, very Ethiopian and good, was at 6:30.
After breakfast many of us went to the morning assembly. The students line up outside in front of the classrooms for prayer and announcements. All the little kids wanted to shake hands, and came running to do so. I don’t know if it because I am old or they thought I was a priest, many of the smaller children either kissed my hand or pressed their foreheads to it.
The school was built in 1945 ec (Ethiopian Calendar), which translates as 1953. Originally, it was only a primary school, but with help from the twinning schools and international help in the last 15 years has added many new buildings and is now one of the 4 secondary schools in the city, the other three are run by the government. The daytime enrollment is a little over 1500 students. There are two classrooms for each grade KG-12. I will save you the math: the smallest classroom had 48 students, the largest 78. The children are in the same classroom all day, the teachers move. They sit in rows, two abreast on benches without backs. Some of the benches had three students. We visited classes today. The students were all eager learners. The 4th grade class was learning a small poem in English. The teacher wrote in on the board and then read it once, then the students all were eager to read it individually (with 60 kids not all got the chance).
In the sixth grade, one of the students proudly demonstrated how to figure the time difference between Ethiopia and the United States using longitude. First, he knew the longitude of both, which amazed me. Second, he could multiply the degrees and divide them by 15 (and knew that was the process). And third, he came up with the right answer!
I was very impressed with a little girl in the 9th grade. John Dols asked her what the difference was between Ethiopian students and American students. She basically and very articulately said that American students have so much in both educational opportunities and materials and the Ethiopians have so little. She went on to comment on the seriousness of the students here, noting that American movies and music are not only a waste of time but they corrupt the tradition here because many students want to imitate what they see. Not only was the answer impromptu and astute, but in her second language.
In addition to the 1500 students that attend day school, there is a night school attended by shop-keepers, shoe-shine boys and the like who want to get an education. The night school begins at 6:00 pm and lasts until 8:30. It take them two years to finish one grade. In the day school tuition is in a series: KG-4 students pay 85 birr per month; 5-6, 90 birr; 7-8, 105 birr; 9-10, 115 birr; and 11-12, 150 birr. Since there are approximately 10 birr to the dollar and the school year is ten months the amounts above can translate into dollars per year. So a 12 grader pays about $150. The night school too, has a graduated tuition. First grade pays 7 birr a month…yes that would be 70 cents. The tenth grade (the highest grade offered at night) pays 35 birr a month. The teachers are the same as for the day students and get paid more for teaching night school. The Brothers said they tried to raise the tuition for night school several years ago, but it caused so many people to drop out, so they lowered it again.
Despite the seeming low tuition, they have 103 students on scholarship. Many of the students have to find transportation to school, which for some of them amount to more than tuition. It is not an easy situation.
There are three Brothers currently at the school. Brother Retta is the headmaster, Brother Taddele, who has been accompanying us teachers 7 and 8 grade morals. And Brother Peter de Groot. Brother Peter is originally from the Netherlands. His family immigrated to the United States when he was 17. At 21 he joined the Brothers in the California district and has served for the last 16 years in Kenya and Ethiopia. I think Brother is about 74 years old. A fourth Brother, Brother Sheferaw is here from the scholasticate in Nairobi as part of his fourth year program of studies.
It is hot here. The students say it is about 35 degrees Celsius. I just know that by 9:00 this morning, it was oppressive. We went to watch the girls volleyball team take on another one of the city teams. They played on a concrete court, barefoot. After returning from volleyball we had the opportunity to chat with the 11th graders who were on a break, since Brother Peter has finished his morals class with them for the school year, since he is going on his home visit to the states. After lunch there are several hours of down time, a siesta, where everything slows down in the heat of the day. At three, our students in pairs went with members of the Lasallian Youth here to visit their homes. Brother Peter, who handed out bread to homeless people who were sleeping next to the walls of the school on the way to Mass this morning, took members of Lasallian Youth to the Sisters of Charity’s orphanage here to hand out fruit for an afternoon snack.
Alex: After lunch, all the kids went to visit some houses of the students here. We all lined up and were picked like it was a game of dodgeball. I got picked by a girl and we started off to her house. On the way, I quickly realized that we are a lot the same. She complained about school, her siblings, parents, and how she wasn’t ready to pick her future. We took a cab—a motorcycle with three wheels and a body around it—and went about two miles outside of the city to her house. It was very nice compared to the slums we have seen having a gate, courtyard, multiple buildings, televisions, and a computer, all the luxuries that we experience in the states. Then, two other girls arrived that were late to the initial meeting, and we went over to another girl’s house, again taking a cab. There, I experienced the traditional Ethiopian coffee ceremony. The girl got out coffee beans, a pan, a burner, cups, and the coffee pot. She roasted the beans as she explained how usually the hostess must wear traditional clothes, but she felt it was unnecessary at this time. After the beans were black, she crushed them into a fine powder with a mortar and pestle. She then poured the coffee beans into the pot and added water. While the pot was on the burner, all the girls explained that there is three rounds of coffee, each tasting less and less strong. On holidays, the hostess would be making coffee for fifty people the same way. If one person was late, she had to start over for that person. I was amazed at how tedious the ceremony was, yet it was still amazing and another testament to the Ethiopian’s hospitality. She served the first round of coffee, and it was very good. With the coffee she served fresh grapes from her tree in the courtyard, it was all so good. After the first round, the second round was served, but being a coffee novice, that was all I could handle. It was very simple but beautiful, and I am glad that I got to experience it.
There was boy with an Obama tee-shirt on, which prompted one of the Brothers to tell me proudly of Henock, a former student. Evidently, when Obama visited the region several years ago he passed through Dire Dawa because of the U.S. Army base nearby. Henock was his official interpreter, so when Obama was elected president a large billboard was erected in the center of town with a picture of Henock and Obama.
The ladies here did laundry for us today…an amazing feat considering there is no running water. They were carrying buckets all day, because the kids hadn’t done laundry for a week. Most of the adults had done their own while we were in Arbaminch…I guess the kids were hoping for the best! It is pretty incomprehensible for most Africans that kids don’t know how to wash their laundry by hand. I don’t even know how to explain the fact that we have machines to do it for us…and dishwashers, too.
A mighty wind blew in this afternoon and it rained for a short time. It barely settled the dust, but it cooled things down.
Monday we left Arbaminch at 6:00 in the morning. Father knew of a shorter route with better roads through the mountains. And it was. Although the roads were dirt, they were much smoother than the temporary roads which skirted us around the road construction. The scenery was beautiful. As we climbed we had awesome views of the lakes. The mountains were very populated at the lower elevations, rich with agriculture on terraced fields. The dwellings here were very different. They were very tall, thatched buildings, mainly circular, but seemed to have a front porch or entry way. They were very graceful and well-kept. As we climbed higher, the area was much more alpine, with great expanses of conifers. It really became a horse culture, both as transportation and work. Plowing was still done with oxen. The area was lush, green and cool.
We came out within 20 km of Soto, (for those of you following our journey on a map, both Arbaminch and Soto are on the map I found on the Encyclopedia Britannica site.) We stopped very little, so reached Addis in about 11 hours…right at rush hour. The van went on to the city of Debre Zeyit, where the Brothers have a retreat center on the lake, Babugaya. The truck went to the Postulancy building to pick up luggage. Unfortunately, the luggage truck was delayed by traffic, so it stayed in the city overnight. The group met up the next morning to begin the journey to Dire Dawa.
Dire Dawa, “the Queen City of the Desert”, is hot. May is the hottest month, but someone forgot to change the calendar. It is 11:00 am as I write and it must be pushing 100 degrees. Although last night was cool. Air-conditioning certainly hasn’t made it here yet. We asked Br. Tadele if his room had air conditioning and he nodded yes as he showed us his tiny box fan. Obviously definitions of “air conditioning” vary around the world!
Leaving Babugaya, we passed an area that was heavily agricultural. Many fields were being plowed by oxen, a now familiar site. The area did not have the diversity which the area South of Addis enjoyed. Most of the fields seemed to be maize. The area didn’t seem as prosperous either.
As we moved eastward, we again seemed to pass through several tribal areas, witnessed by style of structures and dress. Although still in the highlands we passed through a very arid area. Here, farms thinned and a pastoralist lifestyle was evident. There were great herds of goats, camels and cattle. One of the herds we passed must have easily had over 1000 head of cattle. The herdsmen all carried rifles. The men wore Afro hair styles, either a western style shirt or a loose waist length tunic and a knee length piece of cloth wrapped around their waste. The women really didn’t have a very distinctive way of dress. Most had their heads covered, long dresses with a length of cloth twisted around the waist. Many wore a bright saffron yellow. For ornamentation many women had necklaces made of large chunks of amber or intricately embroidered collars.
The dwellings here were typical of the Maasai or Turkana people of Kenya. They are moveable villages, as they continually move to better pasture lands. The huts are made of small branches covered with mud and dung topped with a tarp. Each year they might return to the same camp. Each encampment is surrounded by thorn branches to protect the herds from predators and theft (the reason herders carry rifles for the larger herds that cannot be brought home for the night). Many of these groups have the same creation narrative: God gave cattle to them, so they really aren’t rustling, they are just taking back what God gave to them. The herd is a bank account on a hoof. They buy a bride, they provide life. The relationship between animal and man is very close. Cattle are not eaten. These tribes survive on milk and blood taken from the animal.
We stopped in the town of Awash for breakfast. Omelets (or Omleets on the menu) and coffee. The coffee here is strong and there was a special coffee waitress for those who wished traditional coffee without milk. She sat on the floor, which even in the restaurant the small area was covered with a fresh grass (which is actually available for sale in the markets). She had all the cups arranged on a low table in front of her. There were two braziers of charcoal, one to hold the black ceramic pot, keeping it hot and the other to keep a continuous supply of coals and to burn incense from a small basket she kept nearby. Every order of coffee was accompanied by a pinch of incense.
From Awash we began to climb to a higher elevation. The people seemed much poorer and the towns mainly of very small shops made of mud, with a tin roof. There were two crops, maize and chaa. Chaa is a mild drug, legal, but none-the-less, a drug. It is sold mainly to the Arab countries to the north. Truck drivers use it to stay awake, but long time use leads to insanity it seems. The dwellings here are long rectangular buildings. It took me a while to figure out the larger building in relationship to the apparent poverty. They some started having two doors: a dwelling for both people and their animals.
We passed rusting shells of several military tanks, remnants of the war with Somalia in the late 1970s, grim reminders that many of the problems of this country are man-made.
At the highest elevation, it was very cool and raining hard. Then we dropped back into the Rift Valley. Probably at least a 3000 ft. difference by a constant series of hairpin curves. Brother Kassu was tired so I took over the wheel of the luggage truck for the last 60 km. My driving skills, honed in Kenya came in handy. Not only do you have to negotiate the road, but around all the people, goats, cows and donkey which also share the same road. It make for an interesting drive.
We finally arrive at Besrate Gabriel school at about 4:00 in the afternoon. Besrate Gabriel means the Annunciation of Gabriel (the story in the Gospels when the angel Gabriel “announces” to Mary that she would bear the Christ child, the Son of God), a fitting name for a school that announces the good news! We were greeted by a banner over the drive and a great number of children who were still in the school yard, even though classes ended at noon (because of the heat). During final quarter of the school year, which corresponds to the hottest part of the year, the day begins at 7:00 am and ends at noon. The boys immediately engaged themselves in a game of basketball and the girls volleyball. Thankfully afterward, there was enough water for showers. Dire Dawa is a city of 400,000 and because of some problem there has not been water for several days. We are all staying at the brothers residence. They have moved beds into their library for the boys and the girls are in the adjoining building.
I rose early to attend 6:00 mass. The mass is in the compound of the Conventual Franciscan, who live next door. Next to that is a school run by the School Sisters of Notre Dame from India. Mass was in Amharic, but it was the Roman Rite, so I could follow it pretty closely. Breakfast, very Ethiopian and good, was at 6:30.
After breakfast many of us went to the morning assembly. The students line up outside in front of the classrooms for prayer and announcements. All the little kids wanted to shake hands, and came running to do so. I don’t know if it because I am old or they thought I was a priest, many of the smaller children either kissed my hand or pressed their foreheads to it.
The school was built in 1945 ec (Ethiopian Calendar), which translates as 1953. Originally, it was only a primary school, but with help from the twinning schools and international help in the last 15 years has added many new buildings and is now one of the 4 secondary schools in the city, the other three are run by the government. The daytime enrollment is a little over 1500 students. There are two classrooms for each grade KG-12. I will save you the math: the smallest classroom had 48 students, the largest 78. The children are in the same classroom all day, the teachers move. They sit in rows, two abreast on benches without backs. Some of the benches had three students. We visited classes today. The students were all eager learners. The 4th grade class was learning a small poem in English. The teacher wrote in on the board and then read it once, then the students all were eager to read it individually (with 60 kids not all got the chance).
In the sixth grade, one of the students proudly demonstrated how to figure the time difference between Ethiopia and the United States using longitude. First, he knew the longitude of both, which amazed me. Second, he could multiply the degrees and divide them by 15 (and knew that was the process). And third, he came up with the right answer!
I was very impressed with a little girl in the 9th grade. John Dols asked her what the difference was between Ethiopian students and American students. She basically and very articulately said that American students have so much in both educational opportunities and materials and the Ethiopians have so little. She went on to comment on the seriousness of the students here, noting that American movies and music are not only a waste of time but they corrupt the tradition here because many students want to imitate what they see. Not only was the answer impromptu and astute, but in her second language.
In addition to the 1500 students that attend day school, there is a night school attended by shop-keepers, shoe-shine boys and the like who want to get an education. The night school begins at 6:00 pm and lasts until 8:30. It take them two years to finish one grade. In the day school tuition is in a series: KG-4 students pay 85 birr per month; 5-6, 90 birr; 7-8, 105 birr; 9-10, 115 birr; and 11-12, 150 birr. Since there are approximately 10 birr to the dollar and the school year is ten months the amounts above can translate into dollars per year. So a 12 grader pays about $150. The night school too, has a graduated tuition. First grade pays 7 birr a month…yes that would be 70 cents. The tenth grade (the highest grade offered at night) pays 35 birr a month. The teachers are the same as for the day students and get paid more for teaching night school. The Brothers said they tried to raise the tuition for night school several years ago, but it caused so many people to drop out, so they lowered it again.
Despite the seeming low tuition, they have 103 students on scholarship. Many of the students have to find transportation to school, which for some of them amount to more than tuition. It is not an easy situation.
There are three Brothers currently at the school. Brother Retta is the headmaster, Brother Taddele, who has been accompanying us teachers 7 and 8 grade morals. And Brother Peter de Groot. Brother Peter is originally from the Netherlands. His family immigrated to the United States when he was 17. At 21 he joined the Brothers in the California district and has served for the last 16 years in Kenya and Ethiopia. I think Brother is about 74 years old. A fourth Brother, Brother Sheferaw is here from the scholasticate in Nairobi as part of his fourth year program of studies.
It is hot here. The students say it is about 35 degrees Celsius. I just know that by 9:00 this morning, it was oppressive. We went to watch the girls volleyball team take on another one of the city teams. They played on a concrete court, barefoot. After returning from volleyball we had the opportunity to chat with the 11th graders who were on a break, since Brother Peter has finished his morals class with them for the school year, since he is going on his home visit to the states. After lunch there are several hours of down time, a siesta, where everything slows down in the heat of the day. At three, our students in pairs went with members of the Lasallian Youth here to visit their homes. Brother Peter, who handed out bread to homeless people who were sleeping next to the walls of the school on the way to Mass this morning, took members of Lasallian Youth to the Sisters of Charity’s orphanage here to hand out fruit for an afternoon snack.
Alex: After lunch, all the kids went to visit some houses of the students here. We all lined up and were picked like it was a game of dodgeball. I got picked by a girl and we started off to her house. On the way, I quickly realized that we are a lot the same. She complained about school, her siblings, parents, and how she wasn’t ready to pick her future. We took a cab—a motorcycle with three wheels and a body around it—and went about two miles outside of the city to her house. It was very nice compared to the slums we have seen having a gate, courtyard, multiple buildings, televisions, and a computer, all the luxuries that we experience in the states. Then, two other girls arrived that were late to the initial meeting, and we went over to another girl’s house, again taking a cab. There, I experienced the traditional Ethiopian coffee ceremony. The girl got out coffee beans, a pan, a burner, cups, and the coffee pot. She roasted the beans as she explained how usually the hostess must wear traditional clothes, but she felt it was unnecessary at this time. After the beans were black, she crushed them into a fine powder with a mortar and pestle. She then poured the coffee beans into the pot and added water. While the pot was on the burner, all the girls explained that there is three rounds of coffee, each tasting less and less strong. On holidays, the hostess would be making coffee for fifty people the same way. If one person was late, she had to start over for that person. I was amazed at how tedious the ceremony was, yet it was still amazing and another testament to the Ethiopian’s hospitality. She served the first round of coffee, and it was very good. With the coffee she served fresh grapes from her tree in the courtyard, it was all so good. After the first round, the second round was served, but being a coffee novice, that was all I could handle. It was very simple but beautiful, and I am glad that I got to experience it.
There was boy with an Obama tee-shirt on, which prompted one of the Brothers to tell me proudly of Henock, a former student. Evidently, when Obama visited the region several years ago he passed through Dire Dawa because of the U.S. Army base nearby. Henock was his official interpreter, so when Obama was elected president a large billboard was erected in the center of town with a picture of Henock and Obama.
The ladies here did laundry for us today…an amazing feat considering there is no running water. They were carrying buckets all day, because the kids hadn’t done laundry for a week. Most of the adults had done their own while we were in Arbaminch…I guess the kids were hoping for the best! It is pretty incomprehensible for most Africans that kids don’t know how to wash their laundry by hand. I don’t even know how to explain the fact that we have machines to do it for us…and dishwashers, too.
A mighty wind blew in this afternoon and it rained for a short time. It barely settled the dust, but it cooled things down.
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