Driving in Addis.

I got my driver's license last week and took my driving test the other day—a 10 minute loop around the block. My driving instructor was on his cell phone the whole time yelling at someone­­— I had to decide where to drive. Needless to say, I passed. When I first arrived in Addis I thought traffic was chaotic. There are a couple of large intersections without working traffic lights—whoever gets there first has the right away. It's quite amusing to watch really. When you're there you're certain that at any given moment there'll be an accident. But miraculously there aren't. "Within the chaos there's always order" as they say.

But now that I've driven for a day I see that there's a certain Amharan order that keeps things moving along, very much similar to that of the Bronx. Although I'll have to admit, driving in the Bronx is more treacherous, where red lights are simply suggestions. (And I don't care what people say, it is not O.K., on a road with two lanes going the same direction, to make a right turn from the left lane, in front of the car on your right).

There are two things I've been told to watch out for here while driving: people and animals. Again, there are no sidewalks in my neighborhood so people walk all over the street. There's also the occasional shepherd pushing his herd of 100 sheep through an intersection—what an awesome sight, I'll have to get a picture. I've been told that if I hit an animal and kill it I have to pay for it on the spot. That seems reasonable. If I hit a person and kill him/her (people have explained this to me with a very straight face), regardless of fault, I'll get put in jail for 15 years, no questions asked. And the possibility isn't as small as you'd think, especially at night and especially where the street lights don't work and where people walk across the major freeway. (A friend said that she was turning the corner on the freeway once and a man was sleeping in the two-foot wide shoulder.)

 There's also the man who—this I saw last night—gets a bonfire going at night in the median of the freeway. Again, the median is about 3 feet wide, separating the two directions of traffic. He's been doing this for a while now—the police don't seem to mind. I'll work on pictures.

 I hope to have more stories about driving in Addis. I'm sure I will. Like for example, driving down the road and having to stop for a hundred sheep passing in front of you. Business as usual for the shephards.
 

Blessings.

 

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Language (From Jan. 10)

I'm just now beginning language classes. The language is called Amharic (Am-har-ic). The script is really interesting, (type "Amharic" in Google) like nothing I had ever seen. It's a Semitic language, like Arabic and Hebrew, which among other things, basically means it's difficult to learn. But you can only go so long without knowing anything, unable to do much in English (although younger people always surprise me with their English).  So I'm taking free lessons at our school. It's been so long since I've learned French I don't remember the early frustration. I guess now I'll have much more empathy for my students. Good for them. But the key to quicker language acquisition is immersion, so I need to go out more often and speak to the neighborhood boys who approach me each time I leave campus.

When I do go around the city and use the little Amharic I know, it's not like in France. People here are amazed that I can say even the most simple sentences, like "I'm a teacher." Right away their faces light up and they tell me I'm brilliant, "Gobez!". I humbly say thank you.  Nope, that wasn't the case in Paris.

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Taxis

I really enjoy taking taxis here. Basically the taxis are like buses (Russian VW's).  Each one has a specific route, normally going from one round-about (intersection) to the next, and back. So in order to get somewhere you usually have to take 3 or 4 different ones (I've got some pictures of these on one of my Facebook albums, they're blue and white vans.) Anyway, there are two people who work these privately-owned taxis: the driver and the "conductor". The conductor takes money once you get in, and more importantly, leans out the side window and yells the destination "Kolfe! Kolfe! Kolfe! Kolfe!" as a form of advertisement. There are only unofficial stops, usually underneath pedestrian bridges, or whenever someone flags the van down, or when a passenger wants to get off and bangs on the side of the van. (Yellow strips of tape haven't made it here yet.)  Once I find one with enough room (by room I mean anywhere to sit down—on the backside of the front seat, on the wheel, in the aisle. No, there are no comforting signs that read : "We're serious about safety—Your safety.") I pay my fare, usually, depending on the person, about $.08 a mile. And once I get settled, celebrity status kicks in with the kids: they stare at me, I smile, they smile back. When I'm ready to get off I in turn bang on the side of the car, yell "Wirage!" (Stop) and continue on my way.

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7-ELEVEN SPECIAL

I went to the supermarket, it's actually called 7-Eleven (I'll get a pic), last Saturday (about 30 minutes from my place, two taxis), which has become one of my routines. The people there at the store are very friendly. The first time I went there I had to buy quite a bit of start-up groceries, and for that amount of food (and money) I had three helpers: one to push the cart, one to explain confidently and repeatedly in English that they "have everything", and one to get whatever I pointed to.  Fun times.  Women who work there, the "stockers", normally walk around and look at you (the single white male), and wait to ask if you need help as soon as you start thinking about what you need for more than one second. Yesterday was a special trip. As I was looking through the tea section, a younger, chattier (rather pretty to be honest) female employee asked if I needed help. I said I was looking for caffeine-free tea. She didn't understand the concept.  She said she didn't speak any English and asked me to speak Amharic. I said I couldn't speak much, so she just smiled and asked me for my phone number. I chuckled and thought, "What a great county!"  Although it would have been a great opportunity to improve my Amharic, I kept my smarts about me and realized that our interests didn't match: she was looking for a long-term relationship and I only wanted Peppermint tea.

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It's been some time since I've last written, unfortunately.  This is all due to a virus called "The Worm" that has debilitated our network at school.  I actually still don't have internet at work or at home; I'm writing this from someone else's home. 

There are the good sides to not having internet—mainly productivity while I'm at my desk at school. But then you can't keep up with people and send pictures, which is not very convenient when you're on a mission and would like to keep your supporters updated. (Sigh). Oh well, it's all in God's hands. But if this problem continues it looks like I'll be writing quite a few letters. 

Things are going well after 24 days here. I would say that I'm feeling comfortable here, but I don't think I've yet been uncomfortable. I guess it's due to my itinerant nature: move to a city, stay there for a year (or three like in NYC), then leave.  I haven't really given much thought to why I like to do that (I do enjoy it).  I'm here in Addis because God wants me to do His work. But there is a "selfish" motive of wanting to encounter and understand different cultures. That probably also explains my desire to learn Amharic (the language here) and get to know as many natives as possible.

Anyway, life is good. I'm very happy with my job. From a professional standpoint, I've never been happier. I'm doing what I've wanted to do for years now: teach French to people who don't know it. 

Classes are going very well. I get along very well with my students, seventh and eighth grades. I'm really amazed at how more mature the eighth graders are. The seventh graders giggle at everything: my hand-drawn maps of Africa, the door slamming shut on its own, someone knocking over a book, saying "Ouagadougou" etc.—pure comedy to them. But it's fun. I'm learning.  I also help teach 9^th and 10^th grades—they're great. Never any discipline issues.

I'm hoping to initiate a high school fellowship group, at a different person's house, or even here.  But I've yet to talk about that with teachers here and the few parents I already know. The logistics might be too complicated, as kids don't have cars here and I don't think parents usually drive their children around town all night. We'll see; perhaps you could keep that in your prayers?

I'm also going to start co-leading a Bible Study group with the teachers at Bingham.  I'm excited.  It's been over a month since I've been in a group, and I'm missing it. I can't say enough about fellowship groups: great way to grow closer to the Lord. 

Otherwise I have two ministry updates. I've been asked to start working with a Christian non-profit called "Hearts". Some of the teachers here volunteer there and brought me to one of their info gatherings. Hear is an organization works with street kids—groups of kids, sometimes orphans, without homes. There are a couple of teachers here who go out on Wednesday nights to a particular neighborhood to talk with boys, start friendships and evangelize. I was speaking with one of the organizers of the organization last night and he said he'd be very happy to have me come. He also would like me to start teaching English to the kids at a new center they've created. I think they both sound like amazing opportunities to let them know about the Gospel and God's love for us. But this is all on the drawing board—nothing permanent.

God Bless

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pics

I've finally put some pics on Facebook. I'll keep updating. But, for those who aren't on Facebook I'll have to find another system. But in the mean time, here's one of kids and of the neighborhood.  If you're on Facebook, click on this link.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=58242&l=00d14&id=526567637

Blessings

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Well things are good. I don't have lots of time to blog at the moment, but I just wanted to make it known that Inet has been quite unreliable these past few days, which means that I can't transfer photos from my laptop to my blog or to facebook.   (Update:  I'm  going to try and download some pics. Hopefully it'll work!)
Otherwise all is good. School starts tomorrow and I'm really excited to meet the kids. I'll have 7,8,9 and 10. I've been reading through the previous teachers' comments about the 7th and 8th graders--the majority don't like French. :) Hopefully I'll be able to change that.
I walked around my neighborhood the other day.  Our school is definitely in the slum--shantytowns everywhere, no sidewalks, just dirt (sidewalks are indeed for rich countries). I enjoy how people stare at me, as I'm the only white person around. But as soon as I flash a smile and bow my head quickly and raise both my hands, palms out (typical greeting gesture), they give me a huge smile. And when I go into cafes, all eyes are on me. I enjoy it. Walking around is always an adventure. Children follow you around and say "You!". Sometimes they can speak pretty good English, and if they do they smile the entire time they talk. Then there are the kids who just say "Money" in Amharic (the language) as they follow you.

Today I had a great conversation with an 8 year-old boy. He followed me around while I took pictures of my neighborhood.  He spoke  some English--constant smile.   "What does your mother do?"  "How many brothers and sisters do you have?"  I didn't get a chance to take a picture of him as there were police around. (Police don't like you taking pictures.)  While I was walking around, every boy under 12 ran up to me to shake my hand. They had huge smiles on their faces.  It was heart warming.
I'm quickly learning the customs around here. You can't simply buy 4 bananas at the market, you have to say 1 kilo. Try getting half a kilo and they look at you funny and say that's not enough for you. Or if you want a quarter kilo (half a pound) of cheese, and you try to say 1/2 of 1/2 (they understand one kilo and half kilo in English) to get a 1/4, they do the addition and come up with 1 kilo, smile, and give you 2.2 pounds of cheese. Good thing I love cheese. 
Another custom: politeness isn't expected. I was told that when you go to the bread store all you have to do is say four in Amharic ("arat") without please or thank you. So I walked into the store, nodded and said "Arat!", "Four!". It worked, she gave me the bread and I paid 40 cents for 4 pieces of bread. But I just can't shake the feeling of being the angry white man when I do that. Please and Thank you from now on.
Alright, just heard that water is back on--time to shower.
 Blessings

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