Trip, Part 3

Our last leg of the journey went through Gonder and the Simien Mountains. We spent one night camping in the mountains. In Ethiopian national parks, you're required to have a "guide" and "scout" accompany you during your entire stay in the park. The guide arranges the campsite and takes you on hikes, explaining the flora and fauna along the way. The scout is a schmugly (a PC Amharic term for an old man) who follows us around with an gun that looks like it's from WW1 slung over his shoulder. He also stood guard while we slept in our tents, though we think a little local boy came to help keep our poor schmugly scout awake through the night.

The scenery in the Simien mountains was breathtaking. We were at about 3,200 meters; the tallest moutain in Ethiopia, Ras Dashen is found in the park and reaches 4,543 meters. We also got up close and personal with some baboons. The Gelada baboons are indigenous to Ethiopia and heavily populate the Simien Mountains. They're very docile creatures, allowing us to get within 4 feet before fleeing in fear. Four feet was a little too close to comfort for me, too!

The last stop was Gonder, the former capital of Ethiopia. The city is often referred as "Africa's Camelot" due to the Royal Enclosure housing 17th century castles. It was fun to explore these ancient castles at our leisure, without ropes or barricades like we're accustomed to in the States.

The next morning we began the long drive back to Addis…left at 6:30am and arrived in Addis Ababa at 9pm, thankful for safe travels and the great experiences and eager for a hot shower!!

Trip, Part 2

From Bahir Dar, we drove east on a terribly dusty, bumpy dirt road (currently being reconstructed by the Japanese) to Lalibela. Lalibela is a tiny town isolated in the mountains at about 8,600 feet in elevation, renowned for its rock-hewn churches carved out of red volcanic rock in the 12^th century.

The priests there today say that it took thousands of workmen about 40 years to chisel out the churches; and while they slept at night, angels would come to continue the work, digging three times the amount of the men.

There are 12 churches present there today, the largest 63 feet high, 45 feet wide and 24 feet deep. I was amazed at how well-preserved these churches have remained after 800 years. There's so much detail present in the carving, as you can see in the photos.

Each church possesses its own cross, uniquely designed with religious symbolism, along with other ancient paraphernalia such as Bibles made of animal skin and prayer sticks that King Lalibela and other priests used to prop themselves on as they prayed through the night.

Lalibela was my favorite stop on our trip. It really felt like going back to Biblical times, as we walked by donkey carts on the road and people carrying their market goods. It's a very picturesque location nestled in the highlands, the terrain reminiscent of the Badlands in South Dakota.

The Lalibela locals were also some of the friendliest people we encountered on our journey. Someone before me made the name "Sara" famous somehow because when we arrived at our hotel, people were calling my name before our vehicle even stopped (the hotel reservation was in my name). Even as we walked throughout the town, I'd randomly hear people say my name. So this was my day to feel famous. Lalibela also has the best macchiatos in Ethiopia…maybe the world…but I wasn't a coffee drinker before coming here, so I can't say for sure.

Trip North, part 1

On March 12-19, 3 adventure-seeking ferengis set out on an expedition to explore the northern part of Ethiopia. We mapped out our route and rented a land cruiser (which came with a driver) to make our voyage by land. The 2 other ferengis were Lindsay, a girl who went to Messiah, but I didn't get to know until meeting her in Burkina 2 years ago; and Naomi, who moved to Addis with her parents at the beginning of this year.

Lindsay informed us that our land cruiser was coming at 5:30am, and we would hit the road by 6am. Many of you know that I'm a morning person…that was no big deal to me. However, for the other girls, this was a pretty tall order. However, lest we forget where we are…most people will tell you that nothing happens rigidly on time in Africa. And the way the trip got started really set the tone for the rest of the week. Lindsay and Naomi's dad went out to the main road to direct the driver to their house. They waited until about 5:45 before calling the travel agent. Oh, did you say 5:30?? We thought you said 10am!! Ok, we'll be there by 7am.

After 4 hours on the road, some steam began to appear from under the hood. Oh great…we pulled over and the driver opened the hood to find water spewing out of the radiator. No worries…we limped a little further up the road to where a water truck was settling the dust on the road. He hosed things down enough for us to get to the next town, about 20km down the road. The driver dropped us off at a restaurant and reassured us that after 1 hour, there would be "No problem." He had very limited English.

So after driving less than an hour, we realized that there was "problem." Our driver realized this too, as we became aware of what a devout Orthodox he was – he crossed himself a total of 72 times within the course of the first 7 hours of our trip! The temperature continued to hit the red zone due to a crack in the radiator. Every 10 minutes or so, we had to pull off the road, sending little children running to fetch us a jug of water. At this rate, it didn't look like we were going to make it to our first destination before sunrise the next day! In normal circumstances, this drive should take about 8 hours. 14 hours after setting out from Addis Ababa, and after demanding another vehicle be sent to pick us up, we arrived in Bahir Dar, dust-coated, exhausted and not eager to get back into another vehicle any time soon!

Bahir Dar, which means beach in Amharic, is situated next to Lake Tana, the largest lake in Ethiopia, where the Blue Nile River flows from.

It's a lovely town, very bicycle-friendly. We spent my birthday taking a boat tour of the many monasteries situated on islands and peninsulas throughout the lake.

The papyrus plant, used to make paper, grows along the shoreline of the lake…made me visualize what it might have been like to discover baby Moses hidden in a basket amongst the papyrus (see photo).

That evening, we enjoyed a nice dinner at an outdoor restaurant next to the lake. This was followed by a most memorable birthday celebration with a Rastafarian, the hotel/restaurant manager, a Chinese guy, a Nigerian comedian, and a bubble gum flavored birthday cake that said "Happy Birthday Syria". Yes, there's a story there, but I'll save it for another day…

Grafting

The long-awaited day finally arrived! We've been eagerly anticipating the arrival of 600 pieces of avocado budwood from a nursery in California since the beginning of January. On March 7^th at 7am, 2 coolers arrived safe and sound after nearly a week of transport from California to Alexandria, VA, to Addis Ababa, and finally here to Yetebon.

Since many of you probably don't know a lot about grafting, let me give you a brief explanation. Many fruit trees are grafted because planting a seed, such as an apple, will not guarantee you the same exact fruit surrounding that seed. In order to ensure that you get the same quality of fruit, and to speed up the process of getting a young tree to produce, we take a branch (known as budwood) from a mature tree and affix it onto a seedling tree of the same species (known as rootstock).

I have been looking forward to this time because it's one of the primary reasons I'm here. I trained several of the farm workers in grafting techniques and we practiced many afternoons to ensure that they could make straight cuts on the budwood, thus allowing a firm bond between budwood and rootstock.

It's a tedious process; to graft one tree takes nearly 10 minutes. Grafting 600 took some time! With anywhere from 2-4 people grafting at one time, we worked from sun-up to sundown for 3 days. Our time was limited because the budwood needed to be fresh to stay viable – and it had already been in transit for a week! After the first day, I was grafting in my sleep and woke up alert and eager to get going at 5am – without an alarm. It was a lot of fun, and I'm thrilled to report that we grafted 697 avocado trees in 4 days! After 2 weeks, many had sprouted; now, nearly a month later the majority has sprouted and only 5 have not made it.

Please pray for these young trees, that they would continue to grow strong and healthy to produce bountifully for this community!

Fire Walk

For the past 2 months, after the sun sets light still blazes from the mountainside – in the form of fires. These are not just small cooking fires at people's tookels; these are brush fires that are purposefully set. Now the beautiful mountain that I love to wake up to is covered with ugly black sores.

Why are they burning the mountainside? Because it is believed, and partially true, that burning any vegetation present will encourage a fresh growth of grass to sprout and feed their livestock. However, in the middle of the dry season a slight breeze will char huge sections, beyond their intended area. This scorched ground promotes drought as all moisture is depleted and no transpiration through photosynthesis takes place. In addition, wildlife lose their habitat, having no cover to protect themselves. The loss of vegetation also adds to the already horrendous erosion problem this country suffers. When the rains come, much of that exposed soil washes away.

One day several weeks ago classes were cancelled for grades 5-12 so the student body and teachers could go into the mountains and encourage farmers to stop burning. I was really excited that the school (teachers) cared enough to allow time from their schoolwork to spread this important message.

I tagged along with one of the 10 groups that was dispersed throughout the mountainside. As we walked, the students chanted their message in a call and response. As they passed farmers, several spokespeople would approach them and share their mission. Everyone seemed to listen respectfully, but I wondered what they were really thinking.

The hike wasn't easy; in some sections there was no established path and we would have to grab any vegetation available to pull ourselves up the steep slopes. I had no grounds to complain though - I wasn't wearing a skirt or tread-less plastic shoes, as most of the female students were.

After about 4 hours of hiking deep into the mountain ravine, we began the trek back to the school. As we got to a clearing directly across from where we started, we looked up to see smoke rising in the exact place where we had climbed just 3 hours earlier! Within minutes, the wind had fueled the fire to engulf a huge section of the hillside. You'll be able to see the progression in the photos…this occurred in about 3 minutes! We saw the red flames and could hear the brush crackling. It was surreal to realize that we had just been in that very place. I had been witnessing these fires on the mountain from the safety and security of Project Mercy for the past 2 months. Now it really hit home to truly experience the devastation of fire. Thankfully, there were no homes or lives in immediate danger, but I'm afraid it's only a matter of time.

Afterwards, I talked to some of the teachers about the responses they received from the local farmers. Most everyone understood and agreed that burning can instigate a drought and many felt that a drought was eminent. They believed that those who burned should be punished, but there is no enforcement. Apparently the regional supervisor himself was burning!

Most people in this community are not naïve to the consequences of what they're doing. However, their lives depend on those hillsides and they can't think about the long-term effects of their actions when they're hungry today. And if burning can give them immediate benefits, as they believe it does, that's what they'll do. God instructs us in Genesis 2:15 to take care of what He's made. As annoyed and frustrated as I may be at the devastation they're bringing to their land, I've never been in a situation where I wasn't sure if there would be food tomorrow. This is a mindset that will take a long time to change. However, it's extremely encouraging to see this generation of students take a stand. Many students were visiting their own families and probably didn't have the courage to speak up to their parents on their own. Pray that these people can learn to have hope in a future and adopt more sustainable farming practices.

Le Salam Lidet

Baby Salam turned 2 earlier this month. "Lidet" means birthday in Amharic. Birthdays aren't generally a big deal here, largely because many people don't know their own date of birth. However, since Salam is the baby at Project Mercy, we had a little party to celebrate this milestone.

As you can see in the photos, she was pretty clueless about being the center of attention, but the party hat stayed on. And the cake was miraculously divided into 70 pieces, so everyone got a bite.

Salam and her four brothers.

In some respects I feel like her mother…I've walked her to sleep, punished her when she ate dirt, changed her soiled clothes, and taught her how to say "avocado". She comes to my room periodically to scavenge for any sweets she can find, and is often my shadow in the greenhouse while I'm working. It's pretty special to have this little girl run up to me when I first see her in the morning and throw her arms around my legs.

An Evening Jog

For the first time in 5 months, I went running outside the compound.  Before you jump to the conclusion that I'm extremely lazy or housebound all the time, I'll have you know that I am a sporadic jogger and the Project Mercy compound is 50 acres.  It's not difficult to remain in the confines of the 4 walls for a week at a time, leaving only for church and trips to use the internet in Butajira. 

About an hour before sunset on a Saturday evening, equipped with my I-pod, I ventured out of the gate.  I was listening to some new music reminiscent of the Out of Africa soundtrack, for those of you familiar with that.  I wish there was a camera built into my forehead to capture all the sights and sounds happening along the way.  Since there isn't, I'll do my best to describe it…

The music I was listening to really set the mood to make me feel like I was in a movie, strolling through life in Africa.  First, I passed by women and kids carrying their water jugs to the nearby well for tomorrow's supply of water. Then I reached the well, with a small crowd mingling around.  Some smiled and greeted me; others just stared, bewildered at the site of a ferengi running.  As I made my way around the first corner of the compound, a handful of kids ran up to shake my hand with huge smiles on their faces and clusters of flies gathered at their eyes and running noses.  "Why don't flies bother me or other adults here?" I pondered.  Because they know better; the kids are easy targets because they learned to be desensitized to the flies' annoying tickle when they were wrapped on their mothers' backs as infants, arms tucked in the nutella, or cloth, unable to swat them away.

As I journeyed on, I passed an adolescent boy who boldly demanded, "Where are you go?"  Then past a poor ox chewing on some dried enset (false banana) leaves, looking up at me dejectedly as if to say "this tastes terrible, but it's all they got."  A couple girls were sitting in front of their tookel braiding one another's hair.  Men were turning over the soil with long-handled spears, chanting as they worked to keep a rhythm and prevent the work from becoming too laborious.  I greeted everyone I passed by saying Asham, which is the Graginia (local tribal language) word for hello.  Most would respond with Asham.  Several older women laughed and said something like "the ferengi said Asham!  She knows Graginia!"…when in fact, that is one of about 3 words I know in Graginia!

At one point two little boys, probably about 5-6 years old, began to follow my shadow.  Initially, when I glanced back and realized they were following me, they timidly slacked back.  Then I told them in Amharic to hurry and keep up.  Bright white teeth appeared as they broke into smiles and continued on the path in their bare, dust-covered feet.  A while later, they yelled to 4 girls chatting nearby.  The girls came running to get a better view of the spectacle the boys had interrupted them about.  The gawked for a second and then I challenged "Rootoo", meaning "run with us."  Giggling, they joined the parade.  They eyed my I-pod and declared "One camera!" "Photo!" I tried to explain that it was music, not a camera.  As I rounded another corner, exiting their jurisdiction, they bid me "caio!"  Then I was on the home stretch back to the compound gate, passing the same women and kids with filled water jugs, bearing the heavy loads on their backs, yet still smiling!  I wished I could lessen the load for them. 

Two of the housekids peered over the wall from the inside, calling my name and laughing at me being out in "the world."  I'm comfortable and secure in the Project Mercy bubble, but felt so alive being in the midst of daily life in Yetebon.  I can't wait to do it again!