A Guidebook Challenge

written by Nathan

The guidebooks of our world have made travel alluring and inviting, and have encouraged our travel to a myriad of places. In the process, and partly as a result of their insights, the world scale has diminished, borders have become more porous, peoples have become more connected. Even for the armchair traveler who fantasizes of food, culture, travel and adventure from the comfort of their big-screen living room, travel is accessible.

I use Lonely Planet as the template for this blog, mainly as testament to the generally high regard I have for this publication. LP has been the best and most comprehensive guide for world travelers for more than a quarter century. Lonely Planet has, to my knowledge, done more than any other institution in the world to make the world smaller, more approachable, and more easily traveled. In doing so, they have opened the eyes and appetites of many to the wondrous world of travel. First publications began about twenty-five years ago, aptly timed at the confluence of events that benefited us travelers tremendously: the ending of the cold-war; a global airline industry, and the massive economic globalization of markets, LP grew new travel books as fast as countries would take down their Visa and border barriers. Now, LP has guidebooks for nearly every country around the world.

In addition to general descriptions, information, and pointers for popular activities or places, LP also mentions in most publications that it intentionally omits some information, in order to help preserve cultural or regional authenticity (those who are interested in the magical fantasy of this hidden gem theme are advised to watch Leonardo DiCaprio’s ‘The Beach:’ a movie about finding a way out of the tourist scene in overly touristic Thailand in the 90’s). It is remarkable to find direct reference to social conscience within the pages of a glossy guidebook.

Guidebooks have made information and insight and access available to the world, but at what cost? As guides for travelers all around the globe, can these guide-companies live up to what started their creators as travelers? Can they use their travel to ‘pay it forward?’

We hereby issue a challenge to Lonely Planet, Footprint, Brandt, Fodors, Insight Guides, and tourists and tour operators everywhere: Use your power, influence, and profits to mitigate, through programs, education, volunteerism and micro enterprise, the damages done by tourism to cultures and economies and make travel more holistically beneficial for visitors and locals alike.

I challenge LP and other guides to come clean with themselves and their readers. Not only should they continue to describe becoming a ‘green’ traveler, the how-to’s of volunteer opportunities, ways to spend money locally, or how to interact with new cultures appropriately; they should put their power and resources where their money is made; they should invest some of their profits in education and economic touristic development initiatives that help visitors and locals to mitigate the negative impacts of tourism.

But, my challenge is also issued to those of us who travel: we the people who love diversity in the world, who eat international cuisines, love world music, or want to ‘get away from it all.’ I challenge us to mitigate our impacts. ‘Simple,’ you say? Perhaps simple enough that any of us can try. This challenge, I truly believe, can immediately begin to build a more democratic, just, and equitable world in a dramatic way. If we can all realize how and why we are impacting the world (when and to whom do we impact in our travel) and if we encourage and demand this thinking through our use of resources and challenges to others, then, through the sheer scale of our decision-making capacity, tourism can shift from an enormously dangerous and damaging force on the planet to one of beneficence for the people we are visiting and for preserving what it was that drew us to and made us fall in love with travel in the first place. It is not enough (in today’s world of homogenizing cultures) to mention that our footprints have effects on the people and places we visit, we must actively work to advocate the broadest understanding and application of how changing our behavior and actions, both at home and abroad, can build a better world for us all to share together.

Here are some thoughts on what we can do as world travelers:

Take only tours that are green (reducing carbon, staying in eco-friendly lodging, etc.) or consider creating your own tour that uses fewer resources or has a lessened impact (camping, using activated charcoal to purify water, or taking public transportation).

Buy locally produced products and consume local foods.

Volunteer

Stay local (use local housing)

Visit ‘off the beaten track’ places and be a ‘grassroots’ ambassador for your country and culture.

Engage your local hosts and make friends!

What else should be added to these challenges and tools for travel? How can we support positive changes to travel that accept political differences (conservative, liberal, egalitarian, libertarian, and the like)? How can we describe our challenges in ways that are inclusive, provocative, non-combative, and equitable?

We welcome your suggestions and incites! Please share with us your experiences.

***
This blog needs further research. I will be looking to find out what guides are doing already. Please look forward to a follow-up blog on this topic.

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Lomé, Togo: 50th Anniversary

written by Nathan

Protests in the street on the 50th Anniversary of Independence

On the day of our arrival in Lomé, Saturday, we saw mass protests on the boulevard. Every Saturday in Lomé, at least 60,000 citizens rise in opposition to the entrenched oligarchy here and march through the streets. Nearly every weekend these protests are begun with song and dance and ended with teargas and clubbing. After watching the first presidential address to the nation (five years after assuming power) we were dulled into boredom of watching fancy tinted window SUV’s and military might on parade from our TV. Our friend, a local musical celebrity of afro-funk and supporter of the opposition, stopped by and invited us to join him in visiting the celebrations of independence by the opposition.

All three of us loaded onto moto-taxis and rode to the beach where the protest marchers were circling after being refused entry to Lomé’s Independence Square. Meanwhile, the Stalinist-era military parades were taking place on the other end of town, and, while the square remained empty, the opposition was barred from using it (they had also been barred from using their own central church because, apparently, the president has a great fear of the power of burning candles).

The celebrations and speeches on the beach were already wrapped up when we arrived, crowds were either dispersing or joining the mass of the parade back to their headquarters. We enjoyed very much walking beside the quickly-moving parade (at one point thousands passed by us under a massive Togo flag - providing illumination of their country pride and much needed shade to those underneath). The march turned from the beach back onto the boulevard principal and we shortly found ourselves nearing their headquarters.

We arrived to see food and rich shade under a canopy in front of an nondescript building. We were so happy to be shown the ins and outs of Lomé by a local celebrity, people passing greeted us and burst into song from his popular ouvre of opposition music. We had not realized how lucky we would be to have this friend and guide. He suggested that we get going. “The parade did not stop here as I suspected they would,” he said, “apparently they continued back to Independence Square of the Cathedral.” When we turned back onto the boulevard, he said, “we are almost home, it is just a couple blocks. Let’s go back through the neighborhood.” Just as we crossed the boulevard we saw groups running back in our direction, behind them was the army truck that we had seen following the protest march.

“Run!” our friend yelled, taking off running in front of us. Brittany and our friend sprinted in front of me. I glanced behind just at the moment that the army truck turned onto the gravel road behind us. Soldiers were pointing tear gun rifles out of the back of the truck! As I watched, canisters began shooting through the air, tumbling down the street behind us. Families standing in courtyard gates waved to us, “Come in to our house!” they yelled in English. We turned a corner and stopped at the compound of a family known by our friend. “Come in!” they beckoned. We gratefully accepted. Shortly, the excitement died down. The tear gas truck, we were told, had gone off chasing the opposition in other directions. We walked back to our neighborhood watering hole, drank a few beers, recanted the excitement. “This happens every Saturday and has gone on for more than 20 years,” our friend said. “We almost won in 1990,” he told us. “We changed the constitution and had a Prime Minister elected who took power,” he went on, “the army surrounded his compound with tanks, barricades, and artillery until he waved a white flag and submitted to arrest.”

We discussed our experiences of studying Ghandhian thought in India and the powers of its implementation at the “Bapu Kuti” ashram in Sevagram. We shared our pride at the election of the USA’s first black president (with the peaceful transition of power that accompanies our elections). We discussed the history of non-violent civil rights movements in the USA and India - and pressed for their merits to continue here. Our friend shared his own experiences, while living in Chile twenty years earlier, of being part of the peaceful protects against the military dictatorship of Augosto Pinochet in that country; “I hope that Togo has a peaceful transition of power the same way Chile did,” he told us. “But, here, these youth are frustrated. They are asking their leaders for arms.”

Sadly, we will not understand the complexity of Togolaise politics on this visit. We were, however, with the right person to get a view of the very real struggle taking place here. We wish Togo and her people freedom, prosperity, dignity, and democracy in the future.

****

We have been traveling with a half dozen small books by Ghandi we purchased at the Bapu Kuti ashram. One of these, Mohan-Mala, is “A Ghandhian Rosary.” It shares a prayer each day for peace and justice.

On the day of this writing, a day after independence celebrations here, I read today’s rosary;

April 28 -

“Shall we have not the vision to see that in suppressing a sixth (or whatever the number) of ourselves, we have depressed ourselves? No man takes another down a pit without descending into it himself and sinning in the bargain. It is the suppressor who has to answer for his crime against those whom he suppresses.” - YI, 29, March, 1928

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Country Road, Take Me Home

written by Nathan

Being from New Orleans, I always want the world bathed in Jazz. Jazz for me, is the sound of musical ambassadorship. It is the intellectual and cultural rigor of my country’s history. It is her gift to the world.

As a music-appreciating traveler, there are many tunes that make my toes start tapping, those both foreign and familiar: Chinese Pop, Bollywood soundtracks, Eastern African ancient hymns… most of all, what brings me home time and again though is Country. Country music goes great with beer and boots and dust and long drives with the windows rolled down. And, it turns out, country music goes great with a trip around the world.

From Japanese Cowboys clicking their boots up from the subway station toward Shibuya crossing, to the Chinese peasant listening to the crackle from an old tape player in Changsha, and from the wails of old Westerns in the ‘New Market’ of Kolkata, to the modern Country ballads belting from the streets of Muslim Mumbai, and even from the dank hollow of the “Cave Hotel” off Piazza in downtown Addis Ababa, country music sings its lil’ ole’ heart out. Neighborhood twangs play off the sheet metal rooftops spreading out around us in Asylum neighborhood of Accra, Ghana; country music brings us home. After a long day of bus rides to a small town, Debre Marcos, in the Ethiopian highlands not frequented by many ‘ferengues’, we found Dixie Chicks and Dolly Parton at a juice shop. We lingered after buying chocolate bars and water so that Brittany could sing along to “Wide Open Spaces.”

Country, Jazz, Rock and Reggae are four forms of musical cross-cultural harmony which we find everywhere in the world in various forms. Often, there’s a story behind why the person you meet loves each: a favorite movie, an old friend, a teacher, some long forgotten musical encounter. We used to joke a lot that ‘Red, Red Wine’ by UB40 was the most popular song in the world (that or “Buffalo Soldier!”).

“Country road, take me home, to the place, that I belong.” these words, sung by Toots and the Maytals, John Denver, or the Carpenters, could be a theme for all the travel we have done these past five months - while we find ourselves in cities, it is on the broken, dirt, cobbled, and riddled ‘country’ roads where we find home.

I felt so lucky to have found Country with my betrothed on the tiny pine tree lanes of Pearl River County, on our road trips through southern and western Pennsylvania, the Carolinas, or Northern California… I understand better now how Country music is another form of ambassadorship abroad. Its workingman’s tales and soft true blues, its kindness, its harshness, its poetry without vanity. Thank you Country! Thanks Merle, and Doc, and Willie, and Hank! We miss you all, we will treat you with the greatest veneration you are due when we come home!

Although we hear it everywhere, our personal country music collection is sadly small…please send some songs our way! If country just isn’t your bag, send us another one of your favorites: bittystarr@gmail.com.

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The Camel

Camels roam the lands and desert from the borders of Europe and the foothills of the Himalayas, to the far African plains, always accompanied by humans. They can be seen resting on shady coves and beside watering holes. Most people mistakenly think that camels are not smart. I think this comes from the way they chew. Camels chew slowly. And, like Goats, cows, and sheep. They grind their food against their upper jaw because, of course, they have no upper teeth. For this reason, all the animals who eat like this remind us of old people who have lost their teeth and must mash their food and gum it.

Camels chew slowly, one might say deliberately, but a closer look seems to prove this false. Because of this we call them lazy. They have straw hanging out of their mouth most of the day.
I think the way we think of camels as dumb, shiftless and lazy comes from the way we have been taught to view people. When we are growing up, we are raised with images that small children with long grasses dangling from their lips in countryside are lazy, maybe shiftless. Or old men, who chew and spit loudly, “Tang!” into deep metal spittons, like my grandfather Norman did after he moved West to California, acting determined to waste time (and health) with nothing more than machismo fraternity, act lazy.

I must debate these old ideas. People need breaks, camels needs break. We all need to rest. And, if a child chewing straw is their way of signifying to themselves or to others - rest, retreat, solace - then it is as it should be. Have you ever seen a camel work? They carry enormous loads. And if you take a good look at a camel, look at its knees and stringy long legs. Carrying a hump or two of water would be hard enough, carrying the rest of their body would be extremely difficult. Carrying anything extra, humans, loads of wood, goods to market, would be awfully tiring. So camels must rest. And that is the funniest thing you have ever seen, camels at rest. All of that weight, and funny neck, and lankiness somehow shrinks down onto the boney fragile knees of this great beast; and, somehow, it manages to tuck all those miles of legs beneath itself.

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Ghana and Togo for Travelers

We arrived at the Accra airport on 4/21/2010 and left four weeks later. In Ghana we visited only Accra, and in Togo we visited Lome and Aneho.

VISAS
We wrote a blog on our experience of arriving in Accra sans-Visas. With our two day transit visas, we traveled to Togo by bus, which is only 2-3 hours by bus, and 5-6 cedis per person. Upon arriving at the border, we obtained a seven day Togo visa which cost us 15,000 Togo dollars each. We thought that we might go all the way through Benin to Lagos, but the visa for Benin was only two days, and cost 10,000 Togo dollars. Although unable to confirm our assumptions, we would most like need to pay again at each border to cross back through. While in Lome we visited the Ghana embassy and secured our 30 day visas. So, instead of paying $150 USD each at the Accra airport for a 30 day Ghana visa, we paid a total of $91 USD ($20 Ghana transit + $8 transportation to Togo + $20 seven day Togo Visa + $40 Ghana visa from the embassy in Togo + $3 in required visas photos that we forgot to bring with us + $8 transportation back to Accra) each. The excess of almost $60 paid for our hotels, food, and general fun in Togo. Accra is more expensive than Togo, so we made out pretty well.

VISA AND MASTERCARD
If you happen to be traveling with a Mastercard debit card, almost none of the banks will accept it. EXCEPT Stanbic Bank! We were delighted to figure this out halfway through our trip. The branch we used was on Ring Road, behind Asylum Down.

LOME, TOGO
Lome has a few hotels to choose from, we definitely feel that we found the best one. Hotel Patience is very close to the BTCI building on the main boulevard, two blocks toward the ocean and one block heading down the boulevard. Just ask, people know where it is. We got a room for two, with private bath (cold water shower), cable television (with three channels, all in French), outlet, and an ancient but powerful standing fan for 4,500 Togo francs ($9 USD). Friendly staff, great location, only downside is the sometimes-raucous and late-night church choir across the street at Zion (we made the mistake of staying there the first night - same price, but the Friday night music rattled our room ALL night).

BTCI is a major bank in Lome and the only one that would accept one of our Visa debit cards. All of West Africa is without (to our knowledge) Mastercard facilities. Take cash to exchange or ensure that you have a few Visa cards on hand.

In Lome, motocycles are much less expensive than taking taxis, assuming you can handle the thrill. The drivers are generally extremely good drivers and don’t poke fun if you ask them to slow down. The price for motos is 100-250 Togo francs.

ACCRA
We really enjoyed our stay at the Times Square Lodge in Asylum Down. Not too many foreigners around and it was within (courageous) walking distance of downtown and other fun neighborhoods. Our room for two was 20 cedis per night: large, spacious room with ceiling fan and outlet. Very clean shared bath and shared tub/bucket shower. Pleasant and friendly staff. Good deal in a city where you can’t find a hotel much cheaper….we looked.

OUTSIDE ACCRA
The beach in Accra is kinda gross. Better to take a bus 2 hours west and spend a few days in nearby Winneba. This University town has many hotels, but a visitor quickly realizes that many of these are rented out long-term to students. There are a few options right on the lovely St. Charles Beach, our recommendation is Manuel’s: 20 cedi’s a night for a rather nice room, fan, quiet, bright white sheets, private bath, two beds.

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Land Cruising

After three wonderful days in Kemba, we departed in the afternoon for Arba Minch, some 90 kilometers away, and the closest point for catching public transportation for our return journey north to Addis.

Our visit to Kemba occurred during a “green-drought.” This southwestern region of Ethiopia continually battles nature: the ground is arid and dry, and the eucalyptus trees that are planted for their sturdy wood and rapid growth serve to leech water from the earth in selfish quantities. The rain is unpredictable, even in the rainy season. Ethiopians hurriedly plant crops when the first rains come, but have no assurances that the plants will bear produce before the rains cease and the land dries up again. It’s a cycle of ongoing hard work with occasional gain. During our visit, the land was lush and verdant and the people of Kemba were well-fed.
The morning of our departure was foggy and drizzly, with occasional torrents of water cascading from the sky. The ochre paths winding around the Action Aid compound were slippery and sloppy. All along and among and around the paths are planted gardens: maize and sugarcane and apple trees. With the strong rain, they seemed to grow inches overnight. I made Indian chai for breakfast, rich tea blended with raw cow’s milk and a hefty spoonful of sugar in each cup.

It was cozy, sitting with the Action Aid group and listening to the rain pattering upon the metal roof and sipping sweet tea. It reminded me of home: that wet and lush Willamette Valley. Cambric tea and a woodstove. It seems that the rain will never end, that the sky will never clear, that the moisture will last forever.

But, as in Oregon, the rain did cease. For a moment. Midday, we went to visit the Kemba women’s co-op group. A total of 60 women have joined together to form a lending-program and the leaders invited us to their weekly meeting. Action Aid assisted with the organization of the group, bylaws, technical assistance, and the initial capital for lending. Each woman pays monthly dues, which helps to increase the total lending principle available for use. The ventures are very different: one woman used the loan to purchase two calves which she is raising to sell when they are grown. Another woman used the loan to build a strong barn for her animals so that they can be healthier and thus, garner more profit. The ten leaders of the project consider proposals based on outcome, goals, and level of need. Each woman is allowed to borrow no more than 10 times the amount of her savings: $10 will allow for $100 in loan. The project seems to be working very well. The women shared some of their feelings and thoughts with us, many centered upon their feelings of accomplishment and achievement. They are grateful to Action Aid for these opportunities and are committed to helping other women have the same experience that they have. They spoke about their increased levels of power and control in the homes. They are proud and involved. It was an absolutely inspiring meeting.

Quick dash back to the compound for lunch and packing, and then left for Arba Minch by 3:30PM. The rain had momentarily ceased, but the land was still very wet. The road to Kemba isn’t exactly smooth. Buses cannot travel there; most people walk and a few ride horses. The terrain is rocky and steep and the road climbs through and over and around beautiful hills. The hard work that is put into building and grading roads is foiled every year by heavy rainfall. However, Ethiopia is a very rocky country, so even when the soil washes away, there is enough rock remaining for the Landcruiser to lumber up the steep inclines and grab purchase on the descents.

We bounced through the afternoon, slipping in some places, sliding in others, but always remaining on the road. The Action Aid driver was magic and amazingly adept at his job. The pace increased as the sun sank lower. Ethiopians do not drive at night. Ever. The country roads are dangerous enough during the day; the population is terrified of being out on the road after sunset.

Just as the sun was setting, still 30km from Arba Minch (but on a mostly paved road and easy road which might be plausible to traverse at night) we reached a river. Now, we had already crossed a few rivers, but none higher than the hubcaps. This one was bigger. And powerful. And surging over large boulders that had washed down the hillside. We all got out of the car and slipped over to the muddy scene. We surveyed the water and talked about the possible depth. We threw in rocks. N waded in a little ways and really freaked everyone out. Darkness set in and we remained indecisive.

Suddenly, the darkness was lit with flashing lights: an ambulance skidded to a halt next to our vehicle. Although I don’t speak or understand Ahmaric, the guys in the ambulance said that they were crossing the river and that we could follow them. We (westerners) are inclined to trust in emergency vehicles and I was delighted by their enthusiasm and assurances. They charged right into the water, full speed ahead. Halfway through, their Landcruiser lurched to a stop, lodged upon a boulder. They tried reverse, they tried gunning it, and the truck only slipped deeper into the water. In the dim gleam of taillights and headlights, I could see exhaust fumes bubbling up from beneath the murky water. Soon a few Ethiopians, stripped down to undies, waded into the water to try to move the stones that prohibited a smooth crossing.

N remarked that at least if someone was hurt in this crossing, there were plenty of paramedics on hand. Mr. B looked at us strangely. “You know, because they are ambulance drivers?” He laughed. “They are working on an election campaign, they aren’t ambulance drivers. They use anything they want when an election comes up.”

Thanks to our fantastic driver, we had remained on land, instead of following them directly across (or to the middle as it was). With a puny rope doubled up and tied between the vehicles, we pulled them back out. After a few moments of assessing motor sounds, tires suddenly squealed and they surged across the river, petal to the metal. They made it across and disappeared up the dark road. We stayed behind, choosing to wait until first light, when our understanding of the crossing would literally be illuminated.

We circled back to a spot on the road where we had passed some heavy machinery, grader and tractor, knowing that the security guard assuredly on duty would give us a bit of extra protection on the lonely empty road. N and I pulled out our trusty sleeping bags and nested down in the back of the Landcruiser. We each ate our dinner: an apple from the Action Aid yard. The headlamp was in action as I pulled out my book. The Landcruiser floor was ridged and pocked with exposed staples. The night was long and uncomfortable. But as the sky lightened, we set off down the road, to see whether the water level had changed in the night. It appeared to be the same, but a safe crossing was easier to see in the daylight.

Mr. B hopped to an island in the middle to assess the depth. He gave the signal. The Landcruiser bumped across without a hitch. Mr. B got a piggyback ride across on the back of a kind shepherd.

We arrived in Arba Minch an hour later, very ready for breakfast.

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The Benin Border

written by Nathan

 

On the border with Togo, we will not go to Benin. We have come as far as Aneho, the capital of Voodoo religion in Togo and apparently West Africa. People here have symmetrical scarification on their faces. There are goats and chickens a plenty; but we have not found that there are botanical shops or idols being sold in the street as advertised on Lonely Planet or other tourist info sites. What we are finding is that the people are very pleasant. We exchange all the French pleasantries we can think of on the spot, ‘Como c’est va? C’est va bien? Bon soir.’

As our taxi driver told us, voodoo is common in the villages. Actually, he said pueblos. The most unbelievable set of circumstances, you are not going to believe this, put us in a taxi with a Togolaise conductor who spoke perfect Spanish, (Brittany is getting REALLY annoyed here, in French speaking Togo, at my habit of mixing Spanish/English liberally with my tiny French vocabulary). But, the crazy part is not that Ignacio was so completely fluent in Spanish, the crazy part, super crazy, super loco to be mas exacto, our Togo taxi driver had learned his Spanish in Colombia!!

If any Voodoo spells were cast on me I have worn them well, while I sputtered and complained for more than an hour after choking on a fish bone at lunch, I was given a smart cure of swallowing large bites of Fufu (pounded yucca flour porridge balls?).

If you are not ECOWAS Community of West African States citizen, all of these countries are hard to visit on-the-fly. Benin, which was one of the most exciting conceptually to visit (especially since we will not make Gambia - close on the map of Africa - but really five countries north from here). Benin offers a 2 day Visa at the border ($20 US) which is fine if you plan to stay a while because you can ‘renovate’ your visa in the capital. But, this was an impossibility for us when coupled together with the fact that we are on day two of our 7-day visa to Togo. Actually, I have never been in countries before offering such short Visas. We had thought China’s 30-day Visa a Communist Era aberration.

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Ethiopia for Travelers

Ethiopia is wonderful, but heavily impacted by foreign influence, NGOs, and tourism. We spent nearly one month in Ethiopia (March - April 2010) and traveled as far north as Gonder and Lalibela, and as far south as Arba Minch and Kemba. We also spent one week in Addis. Please note that this is not intended to be a comprehensive travel guide, but is limited to our experiences and some tips that we think might be helpful for travelers.

Overall, I would say that the north is great for those who love tourism-packages, churches, guided tours, etc. The south was much more up our alley. The effects of tourism were less, the people seemed more genuine, and the presence of other foreigners was greatly reduced. But that’s just us. The north was beautiful and incredible and the stone-hewn churches of Lalibela were spectacular. But Lake Tana was a drag (rather expensive and not especially incredible), and most of the other tourist-towns were overwhelmingly tourism-focused: nearly everyone you interacted with had an agenda or something to offer: a guide, a translator, a coffee ceremony, a hotel, it was hard to just “make a friend.”

In a culture that has been so impacted by foreign-influence, aid, and tourism, I think that it’s important to be educated and responsible about giving. Although each person is entitled to their own opinions and ideas on this, we have written a few blogs about aid and giving. Check them out here and here and here if you’d like.

We traveled exclusively over-land while in Ethiopia. The buses take a loooong time. When you are given an estimate of how long the bus will take, double it and hope for the best. The roads are bad, the buses are ancient, and the livestock just can’t resist wandering in the middle of the highways. Plus, the buses make frequent stops to pick up travelers and items for transport. But, aside from the discomfort of eight and nine hour bus rides, it’s a great way to see Ethiopia. Also, we never found that the minibuses arrive at the destination much faster than the large buses, so keep that in mind when you are comparing prices.

Addis Abeba
Tsegereda hotel - Assefashi kinfu Kidane (Piazza behind Cinema Ethiopia)***
Tel - 011-157-4755
Very good service. Really a beautiful Garden Patio. Chilled-out vibe during the daytime transforms into loud music and “ladies and gents of the night” in the evenings. Shared bath is absolutely awful, best to use the chamber pot. Shower situation was questionable: staff told us that we could use the showers at the National Hotel next door, but it was much easier (and nicer) to use the Taitu hot showers next door. Honest. Helpful. Smiling. 40 birr night is a great price for Piazza, even with the negatives.

National Hotel (next door to Tsegereda and several doors up from TaiTu). Best coffee in Addis - rich, dark, divine. The mokiato and sweetened steamed milk are also good bets. Best to go early in the morning and get a fresh biscuit: lightly fried twist of buttery bread with a few rye seeds cooked within.

Baro Pension 125 birr, clean w/ Private bath, tours. **
tel. 25111155, 011-1574157
Email abenet@baro.com.et

Wutma email wutmahotel@yahoo.com **
tel. 251-111573163 Mgr Chernet Agonafer
105birr Priv Bath, Restaurant, book exchange

D.S. Guesthouse, across from Axum Hotel. (tel 001-6-18-92-00, mobil 09-11-64-08-54)
Following some notes from our friend Benson’s Lonely Planet Ethiopia, we took a minibus from the airport to a hotel called Debre Damo in Addis Ababa. We were thoroughly disappointed with the place: 240birr for a crappy hotel where all rooms led onto a concrete parking lot. Even through our plane-related and airport-sleeping delirium, we hit the street trying to find a better option. We were delighted to find the DS guesthouse, just a few blocks away. It was a world different, and SO worth the 60 birr upgrade. A shared minibus from airport should be less than 10birr per person to DS. Peaceful, serene, very kind and gracious family, private bath, hot shower, cable television. Kitchen available for guests upon request. Breakfast is included. 300-400 birr/night. One minute walk to minibuses that go all over Addis.

A.A. (Addis Abeba) Women’s Association Café, Piazza. On the second floor of a large restaurant and shopping mall right in the midst of Piazza. Excellent food, very fair prices, very friendly and sweet staff. We went there more often than was appropriate, and usually ordered the Tibes with Spagetti with spicy tomato sauce. And plenty of Ambo.

Lalibela
Blulal Hotel: Lalibela. We got our hotel room for 50 birr per night for two with shared bath and shared hot shower. Shared bath was for three rooms upstairs. Hotel also has rooms with private baths and hot shower for 150 birrh/night. Beautiful views of the mountains from two large windows (that even opened!!). Sophie (the owner) is especially gracious and friendly, and has a restaurant (Chez Sophie) on the first floor. Perhaps a bit noisy for some, as the nightclub two doors down can get a bit raucous on the weekends.

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Action Aid in Kemba

Our trip to visit Action Aid Ethiopia’s field operations in the town of Kamba proved fruitful an rejuvenated our feeling for work taking place in Ethiopia. There, more than 70 projects display their commitments to useful, harmless work that improves the life of entire communities. They work diligently with few resources and smaller staffs to produce results that have social, political, and economic ramifications and should yield even more sustainable and long-lasting results far beyond their mission.

Their entire plan has no footprint except to honor and empower the community they are serving. While I found it awkward that they also aspire to affect cultural norms, they are careful to only tentatively, and with great community ‘buy-in’ take on what are termed by the NGO and the Ethiopian government as “Harmful Traditional Practices.” Some of these which were described to us go against the grain of western norms: wife and child beating, excessive slaughter of livestock at occasions of deaths, female castration of girls, all are much too violent and nonsensical to weestern minds and values but are actually very ancient tribal rituals here.
Action Aid’s staff is superb, from Birhanu the District Manager, to Markos (guard, farmer, general labor & resident dad). They employ locally as much as they are able and when they post positions for professionally qualified managers they receive 400 applications per position. This is a privilege of being ferenge (foreign) ngo’s and is also a burden of responsibility to make certain the right persons are selected to enhance their programming and teamwork.
Action Aid also has an affirmative policy of preferring women and other marginalized groups and classes (making their policy operational beyond secretarial, cook, or household positions is problematic, however, due to Ethiopia’s limited and recent history of allowing women’s education to exist; much less be encouraged).

We were truly inspired and amazed by our trip to Kemba with Action Aid; many thanks for the incredible experience and wonderful friendship.

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Lomé, Togo: West Africa

We are lucky to have arrived just a few days before the auspicious occasion of the 50th anniversary of Togolaise independence. But, luck in this instance is a learning experience to further our understanding and impressions of Africa, to get a slight interpretation of the massive affects of 400 years of colonial rule, and to explore, for ourselves, the ways that Togo has had impacted our lives in unanticipated ways.

Lomé, capital of Togo, is home to more than 2/3 of the country’s inhabitants. It is a sleepy slow city, at first impression, milling and humming on boulevards by motor bike, constantly avoiding the heat of day. Like most tropical cultures, though, Lomé comes to life after sunset, with visiting, cooking, partying, and general merriment that occurs until the wee hours of the morning.

Lomé is not impressive. There are perhaps a half dozen buildings over six stories scattered across its horizons. It has a port; but the port seems mostly to be set up to import basic necessities such as oil. It had (or has still?) a railroad. It has two perpendicular transit routes, one 56 km across its coast, another north all the way to Burkina Fassao.

Lomé is a history that encapsulates Africa’s suffering and injustice. The current president is the chosen son (among dozens) of the recently deceased one who ruled Togo for nearly forty years. It is a democracy in name only. Recent elections handed the president a resounding victory (monitored by U.N./E.U observers -who paid for the observations and then paid the observers who apparently treated the elections as a tropical vacation, were paid, and created a perfect economic loop before returning their opinion that there were not ‘enough’ irregularities to call the election a farce), while 80% of the population supports the opposition. Of course, the opposition is divided and unsteady.

While Togo is poor, corrupted, bureaucratically vile - the government is not the people. They are kind.

The manners are like home (the US South): everyone responds with greetings on the street. Children and old folks are so happy to speak to us. Like our discovery of other countries, people want the same basic necessities - quality life and economy, opportunity and hope, education and self-sufficiency, pride of culture, freedom of movement and expression, better lives for their families and neighbors.

Having just been in Ethiopia, it is easy to draw comparisons of what democracy has not done for Africa: Empowerment of elites and oligarchies; Replacement of colonial powers with neo-colonial entrenchment; Ruination and vast degradation of environments and natural resources. None of this, however, should be any reason not to visit. If anything, African and ‘3rd World’ democracies do envy most western democracies - in their worst sense. Entrenched oligarchic rule benefits elite and self-centered powers that have little interest in the people suffering under them. Participatory democracy may not herald better times; however, honest reflection on history seems to point to one unjust and corrupt government being swept away and replaced by something similar. As our friend said, sometimes the opposition just prefers the ‘devil you know, to the one you do not.’

While these themes of graft and corruption prevent progress and democratic participation, the heartbeat of West Africa is strong. As visitors and ambassadors of the western power structure we can show our solidarity in visiting; we can explain and measure the poor performance of government and ‘true’ democracy by sharing some of the failures of our own histories. We can enjoy and engender new forms of trust and affection between our peoples.

***

See “Zeitgeist Addendum” a movie on world monetary systems

1% of the world’s populations own more than 40% of its wealth.

50% of the worlds citizens survive on less that $700 U.S per year or >$2 per day

Think of an item that you spent $700 on. We spent almost five times this on each of our ‘round the world’ tickets. Is your item worth it? It is a question worth pondering….

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Ghana Visa

To friends and family who are more interested in our travelogue, my apologies, for this post serves only to get some information onto the internet. When I searched for relevant and current information on the subject of a Ghana Visa one month ago, there was an extreme deficient of information. Now I can add our experiences and inform others in similar situations.

The moral of this story is: while you can certainly get an emergency visa upon arrival in Ghana, it is quite expensive. But totally do-able and may be less time-consuming than the traditional route. My experience is with an American passport.

We did try to get our visas in advance, but it just didn’t work. The Ghana Embassy in Ethiopia was not only unhelpful, but verged on unfriendly as well. So we arrived at the Accra airport with passports, a small amount of cash, and hopeful smiles.

Although we debarked quickly from the plane and sped to the counter, we were the last to be helped at the Visa on Arrival desk. The staff were courteous, though filled with criticisms about our decision to arrive without a visa. Why do you have a desk here then?

An “emergency visa,” or visa on arrival for Ghana costs $150 USD. Rather expensive. We opted to get the 48-hour transit visa, only $20 each. In fact, this was all that we could do. We had $43 USD, and all airport ATMs were visa (we have mastercard). So, there wasn’t really an alternative, aside from booking a flight elsewhere right then.

So, we are here in Accra for 48 hours, and then we plan to catch a bus to Togo…beaches! When we informed the Visa on Arrival desk of our intentions to travel to Togo, they thought that it sounded like a good plan. They also mentioned that the Ghana visa is a great deal cheaper either at the main embassy downtown, or in Togo.

Since we have made a conscious decision not to travel with a guidebook, we aren’t really sure where we are going, aside from East, to Togo.

update: April 30, 2010
With our two day transit visas, we traveled to Togo by bus, which is only 2-3 hours by bus, and 5-6 cedis per person. Upon arriving at the border, we obtained a seven day Togo visa which cost us 15,000 Togo dollars each. We thought that we might go all the way through Benin to Lagos, but the visa for Benin was only two days, and cost 10,000 Togo dollars. Although unable to confirm our assumptions, we would most like need to pay again at each border to cross back through. While in Lome we visited the Ghana embassy and secured our 30 day visas. So, instead of paying $150 USD each at the Accra airport for a 30 day Ghana visa, we paid a total of $91 USD ($20 Ghana transit + $8 transportation to Togo + $20 seven day Togo Visa + $40 Ghana visa from the embassy in Togo + $3 in required visas photos that we forgot to bring with us + $8 transportation back to Accra) each. The excess of almost $60 paid for our hotels, food, and general fun in Togo. Accra is more expensive than Togo, so we made out pretty well.

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Coffee and Ethiopia

written by Nathan

 

Another quick note on coffee loving and Ethiopia. For those who love coffee, Ethiopia is your Jerusalem. Not only is this birthplace of humanity also the origin of wild ‘Arabica,’ our coffee ancestor still growing in forests here, Ethiopia still produces the meanest Cup o’ Joe that I have practically ever had.

For those readers who know that I proudly decamped (½ time) for Colombia almost ten years ago, this comes of course as a shock to all of us…. Especially me. Not that I did not love or know coffee before Colombia, café culture is a pride of my childhood new Orleans and Francophile Louisiana.

Of course, we have not found Starbucks or Dunkin’ Donuts even trying to compete with this 1000 year old coffee culture. Not that you can’t get a soy double latte here, just don’t ask for sugar substitute. Soy lattes are called ‘macchiato fasting’ indicating refrain from drinking cow’s milk (2-4 birr or less than 30c).

*** As we try and cull what themes come from our blog as it moves abroad (now transferring our content again subjects from East to West Africa the North Africa this next month), obviously travel - it's thrills, chills, strains, and magic moments of discovery - always rings true.

Focusing on aspects of each place, we are aligning our experiences with what we think other travelers may be interested in; and, writing more reviews.

Look for our 'Picks and Pans' list of favorite spots we have found along the route thus far in upcoming blogs.

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Famine, disaster, and inequitable dependencies

written by Nathan

NGO’s are growing up. NGO’s are growing up like the modern teenager - awkwardly. With little family or moral grounding, materialistic, and unaware of consequences grave and perilous. Ethiopia is seeing a new questioning of purpose for NGOs. Since the 1984 famine that toppled the socialist Derg government, NGOs have seen Ethiopia as a proving ground for their efforts or beliefs. Lately, though, conversations have shifted to sustainable, locally-managed projects.

In my opinion, the damage done by NGOs in Ethiopia has surpassed any positive intentions. Looking around, a first impression of Africa, through the lens of Ethiopia, we are viewing the powers of western guilt. It is manifest in the International NGO here. On the surface, belts and socks, coffee shops, government, shoe shops and hair salons, are the industry of Ethiopia - all powered by accessible minibus transportation systems. Darting in between the tuk-tuks and minibuses are the logo-emblazoned SUV’s of NGOs.

Why does the UN need a $80,000 tricked-out SUV to serve Africa’s underserved children? Do ‘Save the Children,’ USAID, and other NGO compounds need concrete buildings and barb-wired parking lots to ensure effective operational success? How can we as citizens and benefactors raise questions and illustrate opportunities within our own cultures that will foster more locally-owned and culturally relevant stabilizing and sustainable democratic actions from our power and resources dispensed abroad?

NGOs like UNICEF talk a lot of talk. Talking is good, but actions are better. When UNICEF uses 96% of all of its annual budget to overhead and only 4% make it to projects, why should we support them? Should UNICEF accept its role as advertisement and propaganda only? How do we steward our giving? Should we not be responsible before, during, and after making gifts an be active proponents for actionable change and responsible budgeting?

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Impressions

We do not know Ethiopia. We have been here but a few days, and we only have some small impression. This is a kind place, friendly smiles are everywhere. As our journey progresses, we will have a fuller impression. Thus far, we have left Addis Ababa and traveled north, staying one night in Debre Markos (Church of St Mark) and spent thee days in Bahir Dar on Lake Tana.

Impressions are useful and hard to get over. There useful side can provide comfort (people in Ethiopia are honest and friendly). The hard to get over aspect of impressions are mostly negative. Ethiopia in my lifetime came into focus as a mass starvation of the 1980’s. Apparently, this is when it came to the world’s attention also. The millions who died in then Ethiopian famine left a legacy which is hard for us to face. Yet, this legacy is pervasive in the identity of what we see in Ethiopia today.

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Pause in the Middle of the Road

written by Nathan

 While I have written about travel types lately, as we have found them - often at the end of roads - finding the middle of our road is serving a purpose: The purpose of pause, of renewing, and of reflection.

Sometimes, our path finds its way through the middle, or, finds the rest in the middle. Or, our journey takes us from getting somewhere to being somewhere. This is a journey that feels human.

“As the hand held before the eye conceals the greatest mountain, so the little earthly life hides from the glance the enormous lights and mysteries of which the world is full, and s/he who can draw it away from before his/her eyes, as one draws away a hand, beholds the great shining of the inner worlds.”
-Rabbi Nachmann of Bratzlav 

What is life without any roadside fences? Where are our commons today? Where are our shepherds?

“…days and months are the travelers of eternity. So are the years that pass by… I reached the summit, completely out of breath and nearly frozen to death. Presently the sun went down and the moon rose glistening in the sky.”-
-Basho, The Narrow Road to the Deep North 

Thanks Guruji! You told us that we should come back. We should visit the Himalayas. You will point us the way. Thanks to all the world travelers, you make the world more humane through your willingness to travel to distant and unknown lands. See you in the middle of the road.

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Beautiful Skin

It’s wonderful to be in this Afro-centric land, birthplace of the human species. Africa is beautiful and proud and strong.

In India, at least eighty percent of all television commercials advertised methods to lighten your skin. How to look whiter. Models on billboards and in magazines were of European descent. Media was filled with tricks and tips and products for lighter skin.

The Indian women kept saying to me, “ah, you are so beautiful.” No, I’m just different. And I told them that in the United States women (and some men) spend excessive amounts of money to darken their skin: tanning beds, creams, and baking their bodies on tropical beaches both at home and abroad. “I wish that I had lovely dark skin like you,” I said. They laughed, how could that be possible?

And yet, in Africa, men and women are proud of their African hair and faces and bodies. They flaunt their gorgeousness and revel in their heritage. It’s delightful.

At times, the beauty found in the people of Ethiopia stops me dead in my tracks, gaping at extraordinarily beautiful women: exquisite and elaborate hair braiding and bright smiles and impeccably arched brows.

Ethiopia is good for interacting with people. And it’s a wonderful place for people who enjoy and appreciate the tourism-package: hotel with restaurant and bar, guide and translator, transportation, and meeting other foreigners. But for people like N and me, who like to be off the beaten track and carve our own path, Ethiopia has been challenging. Tourism is pervasive and foreign-influence has left a large impact.

However, aside from the tourism-related negative aspects of Ethiopia, the people are unforgettably warm and kind. The landscape is awe inspiring. And the African pride and culture is amazing.

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We Do Not Know Ethiopia: Shashemane

written by Nathan

 

We have now traveled Ethiopia from as far North at Gondar to Arba Minch in the cultural south. We have tasted so many climates, met so many different and friendly people, seen many a mountain and valley. Much to the contrary of our preferred travel style, we have crisscrossed central Ethiopia covering more than 1500 miles in four weeks.

Ethiopia has left us with a sense of awe: Awe of its diversity of flora, fauna, and culture, awe from its poverty and humility, awe from its kindness and piety.

Ethiopia did not open itself to us instantly; but did so slow and sweet as our beloved night blooming russian olive flowers of home, subtle with both pungent and soft fragrances of life and evening, easily caught on breezes, to be discovered shading very public roads and boroughs - at once everywhere, nowhere.

It would not be easy to pin down current affairs of Ethiopia, even if we knew Ethiopia better. It is a mixed history, proud and sad, gentle and savage, intellectual and serene..

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Bridges

written by Nathan

One thing we got right, even in Africa and Asia, we are best suited working with our own people.

This morning, we said it again to one another as we joked about the caravan of “Save the Children” SUVs posted in front of a fancy sweet shop, ‘If we used all our eagerness to save other peoples within our own communities, the problems in the global south would work themselves out.’ Simplistic truth. As we travel further afield, our local encounters are building bridges across nations. Yet, our work turns constantly inward, toward home.

Our friend Tony Lowe’s father Vin might come across as cynical. Yet, his words of experience ring truer today after a couple weeks in Ethiopia. ‘All aid,’ he says, ‘should be cut off immediately. That will free the nations.’ What he means, I think, is that aid is a form of control in conceit. Aid is corruption contrived.

But, I have seen a better world. I have seen local communities with local leadership. I have seen inverted pyramids of leadership. I have seen collaboration and new role-modeling. I have benefited from exchange.

As the world moves closer together, we feel our options growing. I have thought about my class reaction to an inverted paradigm I offered at a national training of leadership in D.C. last December before leaving on this trip, ‘Instead of Think Globally - Act Locally, try Think Locally - Act Globally.’

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Sunrises in Ethiopia

We have seen so many sunrises this trip. Every one is unique, often their setting tells a new story. One thing new that we have gained from sunrises of Asia and Africa is a desire to live life near a mosque - to hear daily the Muslim ‘call to prayer.’ Sunrise, sunset and prayer fit. Song and chant, bellow and howl fit the breaking and closing of day.

People are pious here in Ethiopia. Calls to prayer last a long time.

Most places, the singing verse and howls of prayer signify day break and the waking of a city or town. There are few other sound save the crow of the cocks and the blurting of donkeys. Addis Ababa if different. Addis mixes prayer with the end of night.

If my hometown, New Orleans, was half Muslim like Addis, it would likely wake up the same as this city does - mixing Imens’ howls with a muffled drone of fading dancehalls and occasional street crackles from the last patrons’ revelry. As night haunts wind down, mixing pulses quietly provoke the early dawn light along with mosques and church bells, nudging ladies and gentlemen of the night back into the wastes of last night’s streets. They spill out in conversations where fear of the brightening sun sends them scurrying home toward their private shadows at a crack of dawn.
---
As I write this, I am reminding myself what a city person I am. I have loved being in small towns. I love other places, rural places, too, where morning prayers wake up first roosters, rising cantonances with the holy sounds until the mutual efforts of guarding the earth sweep out above the mountains and across valleys in dulling muted harmonies. Cadences when so muted, whisper of our lot shared together. Why does the image of Jesus on a cross have this rooster crowing? What about our rooster causes no alarm?
---
Here in Addis, in the heart of this Ancient country’s hundred year capital, as the prayers whirl into a morning din that is mixing bus engines, wild birds, rising human movements, and early conversation, I am always being reminded of my natural embrace of urbanity.

This morning, like most mornings, I think of other people like me. I remember friends and family when it occurs to me what they might like, what they would want to see, how differently we might approach a place. One of my favorite people to think of these past months as we pass through all these capitals of human urbanity is David, my stepfather.

David and my Mom would both wake up like me before sunrise, before the call to prayer. My mother would wake, greet anyone else awake, then energetically push off for one or two hours of hiking the cities. She would go everywhere and greet anyone - up the hills, around the ports and seashores. David would sit here in this bench seat - observing, smiling, watching and listening.

Public sound, public actions, public behaviors - for society we should engage fully and heartily in each. When night people and church people, roosters and donkeys, bird song and tree breeze come together as public routine the world is happier and peace is more easily achievable. Work for peace.

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Encountering Poverty while Traveling or as a Tourist

Poverty is just what you imagine if you see Ethiopia from the most common western perspective or media. Poverty is pervasive here. Throughout our travels, we refuse to give money to children, adults, or anyone else who approaches us begging for monetary gifts. But we do try to carry around food as gifts. What can we do to have a real impact?

The easiest gift you are brought up with is money: it’s simple, it’s easy, and really, what’s a birr to us (less than 10 cents). And when you can obtain gratitude and a smile for only 10 cents, why not? Because money comes with responsibility, and by distributing cash, one contributes to the cycle of bad tourism. Is it responsible to hand out money to children? As soon as you do, their behavior is reinforced, and their actions continue. They come to expect that every foreigner they meet will give them money. They spend their time on the streets asking for money, rather than going to school, spending time with their families, or learning sustainable and valuable skills that might someday allow them to be successful and independent people. This just doesn’t seem fair; it doesn‘t seem that money is much of a gift after all. Giving money is not really giving at all, it’s taking. While traveling in impoverished lands, it’s hard to determine how individuals can help. From our experience, cash is seldom a help. When you donate cash, you must be responsible; you must do research and determine that your donation is going to an organization that is truly helping to alleviate poverty not reinforce it.

While in Ethiopia, I have been amazed at the effects of foreign tourism. Children in Ethiopia know two words: “You,” and “Money.” I have watched beautiful children skipping down the street with their friends, all smiles and laughter. The moment they see us, a performance begins. Happy faces disappear and are replaced by sadness and desperation and pleas for money. It’s an act, and it must work on many foreigners, otherwise they wouldn’t try. We shake hands with them and talk with them and tell them that our friendship is free. But no money.

People like to help. Often times they help because of their innate kindness; sometimes they help because other people are watching. Sometimes their help has not a shred of altruism and exists only for personal gain. But how do we make our donations last? Donating resources is a huge responsibility, not to be taken lightly, for without thought, cash donation can be detrimental. It may cause waste and new suffering. It can perpetuate cycles of corrupt bureaucracies that do not truly provide the assistance being declared.

There is good help, and there is bad help. There is help that is lasting and sustainable, and there is help that is simply a quick-fix. There is help that has wellbeing of beneficiaries as the foremost tenet, there is help that seems to lose the good intentions along the way.

We have created a note which we hand out notes for begging or speak English. “Do not become dependent on foreign toursitm ($).” it reads, “work hard fro yourself. Build Confidence and freedom. We will not give money to children who beg in the street. But we give you our friendship and friendship is precious. Free Africa. Ras.” Children are surprised by our notes. They take them as they are, as gifts. Many times they respond quickly having gotten some jist. Some ask, “What is this?” “It is a note to help you practice your English And it has messages which we use to make us stronger. You are welcome to keep it or give it back.” I instruct them. They have all kept it affectionately.

But it is a challenge to find ways of helping that are positive, especially as an individual. How do you help people? Perhaps you have experiences that can help us and others to give in positive ways? 

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Ferenge

Sometimes I am overcome by the exhaustion of being a foreigner. Of always being different and new and unusual. In the lands through which we have thus far traveled, there is no hiding our foreignness. Even if we do not speak, our faces and our eyes and our bodies and our skin speak for us. And we follow in the paths that similar shapes and colors have already laid for us; oftentimes we haven’t the option of choosing a different path, it has already been chosen for us.

First impressions are always based upon appearances, it is human nature. It is human nature to utilize past experiences and knowledge and information to make quick assumptions and presumptions about the people inside of those outward appearances. Humans are categorical by nature, it’s how we make quick decisions that historically perhaps meant life or death: dangerous lion / harmless marmot, boiling water / shade under a tree, armed enemy / smiling friend.

But is it innate human nature to put people in categories of “us” versus “them?”

“Us” versus “them” has proven to be a common thread in our travels, partly because we are crossing such great distances and visiting such different lands. And always there are assumptions and presumptions and sometimes blame or solutions placed on “Them.” But how can this language be bypassed? How can you speak about “the people of Ethiopia” without automatically speaking about “them,” for they are a different people that “we are.” Or are they? More and more I find myself amazed by how un-foreign some of our destinations have been. Have I grown numb or non-plussed by the ability to communicate in my language? Or has it to do with the fact that so much of the world is now connected and shares so much of the same general information and habits? Or is the fact that we are all just people? The world is shrinking and I am wide-eyed with the realization that my comprehension of “us” versus “them” is fragmenting. It seems silly. People are the same. People eat, drink, love, feel joy and sorrow and apprehension. People have friends and families and want to lead happy lives. People have memories and dreams.

Yes, food is different, faces are different, customer service is different, climates are different; we can expound for a lifetime on the differences between people and places. But really, can you believe it, they are incredibly superficial differences. Mostly, when you get right down to it, food is the same. Whether using chopsticks, forks, or your right hand to eat, the food is still the same: your belly rumbles when you are hungry, you look at food, you put it in your mouth, you chew, swallow, and the food nourishes your body. What’s so different about that? Sometimes our tongues and eyes seem stronger than our rational thinking.

But who am I to be a critic. I turned down Sheep Brains Masala at a nice Indian restaurant. I tried my hardest (with no guarantee as to my success) to avoid ordering dog on a Chinese menu, and my entire self recoiled at the story of eating juicy chunks of raw meat stripped from an Ethiopian cow moments after it had been slaughtered. But give it enough time in each of those places, and I might be devouring such delicacies with relish.

People change. People assimilate. Cultures are refigured and forced to evolve, for better or worse. Someday, a ferenge will walk down the streets of Bahir Dar and be as invisible as I wish I were. It seems inevitable. And I bet that foreigner will wish that she were a bit more foreign, that she were a bit more special.

But maybe, at that future point, the world will have shrunk so far that “us” and “them” do not even exist as concepts any more.

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The African/Asian Universal Understanding

written by Nathan

In Asia and Africa, life is based on a fuller sense of universal understanding. Each is different, complex, and individualistic by interpretation. Each is complete in itself. Taken together, however, these universal belief systems and acculturations demonstrate core human values which we are all affected by. 

In China, we gained first hand appreciation of the wisdom of Chinese peaceful social cultural norms and their power to organize and direct large populations. The grace of Chinese interactions can be seen in its tea ceremony. The commonality of life’s necessity can be understood in a common enjoyment of green tea. 

Chairman Mao famously wrote proverbs including many which still are present in the work and family edicts of the Chinese. “A man tells his sons one morning: Sons, I cannot move this mountain alone with my hoe; but, together we can move this mountain.” And, they did. We have met many peoples who planted trees with the idea that they would never know its majesty, but that their grandchildren could enjoy the tree. And, the tree lives a thousand or two-thousand years and is used by a village and is revered. 

India balances China’s productivity with its long history of political reason and discourse. Much influence of British rule left many lingering educational influences. It is a gentler land of equitable dignity with total inequity of power. 

In India, Ghandi’s generation left a legacy of peaceful democracy. Both countries have had the least enfranchised benefit in socialist, capitalist, and communist forms. Both have newly combined wealth, existing powers, corporate military industrial complexes, democratic educational systems, raising enormous new middle-classes. All of these leave their marks as mass physical appropriation of resources accelerates. 

In Ethiopia, there is a mesh of peaceful religions. there is a pathway to families of shepherds and priests. Impacts on the 19th to 21st centuries are less. Religious belief is everywhere. Yet, Ethiopia experiences Africa’s history of ‘development through total impoverishment’ by behaving in acts of colonialism on its neighbors and its own diverse populations. The largest natural and human disasters here are entirely preventable, yet persistent. But, their overarching philosophies carry only worry from growing season to dry season and from day to day. 

Ethiopia being Africa balances the Asian history with its own biblical ages…history again stretches into sandy footsteps of time. Instead of social or economic capital, Ethiopia has practical experience and righteousness, carried with the pride of a lion heart. 

There are modern dilemmas facing all these grand countries that each hold origins and histories of the world. Each has been affected by dangerous physical development. Each has vowed to create a healthier, more sustainable natural world. All are vastly different. 

Ethiopia, India, and China need plans to achieve cleaner development while also increasing their living standards. What they don’t need are lectures on social thought or universal understanding. 

If we could mesh the economic power of unified China, the common cause and social decency of India, the proven spiritual agedness of Africa, with the practicality and rationality of the western mind, perhaps we could produce cleaner thoughts and science. 

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Call To Prayer

 written by Nathan

We have seen so many sunrises this trip. Every one is unique, often their setting tells a story.

One thing new that we have gained from the sunrises of Asia and Africa is a desire to live life near a mosque - to hear daily the Muslim ‘call to prayer.’ Sunrise, sunset and prayer fit.

People are pious here. Most places, the singing verse and howls of prayer signify day break and the waking of a city or town. Addis Ababa if different. Addis mixes prayer with the end of night.

If my hometown, New Orleans, was half Muslim like Addis, it would likely wake up the same as this city does - mixing imens’ howls with a muffled drone of fading dancehalls and occasional street crackles from the last patrons’ revelry. As night haunts wind down, mixing pulses quietly provoke the early dawn light along with mosques and church bells, nudging ladies and gentlemen who are night people back into the wastes of last night’s streets. They spill out in conversations where fear of the brightening sun sends them scurrying home toward their private shadows at a crack of dawn.

---

As I write this, I am reminding myself what a city person I am. I have loved being in small towns. I love other places, rural places, too, where morning prayers wake up first roosters, rising cantonances with the holy sounds until the mutual efforts of guarding the earth sweep out above the mountains and across valleys in dulling muted harmonies. Cadences when so muted, whisper of our lot shared together. Why does the image of Jesus on a cross have this rooster crowing? What about our rooster causes no alarm?

---

Here in Addis, in the heart of this Ancient country’s hundred year capital, as the prayers whirls into a morning din that is mixing bus engines, wild birds, and rising human movements and early conversation, I am always being reminded of my natural embrace of urbanity.

This morning, like most mornings, I think of other people like me. I remember friends and family when it occurs to me what they might like , what they would want to see, how differently we might approach a place. One of my favorite people to think of these past months as we pass through all these capitals of human urbanity is David, my stepfather.

David and my Mom would both wake up like me before sunrise, before the call to prayer. My mother would wake, greet anyone else awake, then muster out for one or two hours of hiking the cities. She would go everywhere and greet anyone - up the hills, around the ports and seashores. David would sit here in this bench seat - observing, smiling, watching and listening.

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Napkin Granting

A new friend of ours in Ethiopia shared an interesting and informative tale that centered upon on her past work in Sudan. 

Working for “X” Embassy in Sudan, “Suzie” arrived April 1, 2006 on an 18 month tour. One of her first tasks was to disperse aid. She requested submissions for projects that would fit with government goals: providing aid to sustainable projects that would improve social and economic development. 

During this period, Sudan was in time of war and crisis. Because of this notoriety, it was a poster child for aid in Africa. Suzie was there intending to make a difference. She wanted to uphold the values of her home country in Europe. 

Suzie received many proposals. In May, 2006, representatives of some of the highest profile aid agencies in Sudan came calling. They were polite. They asked her to business lunches. At lunch, they wanted to discuss the progress of review for their proposals. “Your predecessor Tom always approved our projects.” they told her. “We are counting on the Euros this month if our programs are to continue.” they insisted. 

“How can you tell me you have always received this aid,” Suzie replied, “our aid program has only existed since 1992.” 

“Well,” they would reply, “Tom always got us our money by May. He knew how critical this support was.” 

“I am not Tom,” said Suzie “and my program says responses should be finalized and aid given out by October. I plan to review each proposal and make decisions based on their quality of sustainability.” 

The representatives of the NGOs went away very upset. They wrote letters to Tom, the Embassy ambassador, and staff asking for insight as to who this person was and whether she was qualified. 

Suzie went back to work. She carefully reviewed each of the two dozen proposals she had received. In October, her decisions were final. None of the four big NGOs would receive any aid (Tom consistently gave 500,000 euros to in each of the previous four cycles). 

Instead of making easy, expected decisions about funding, Suzie gave aid to mostly new and innovative small grassroots organizations that proposed very small windows of need for assistance. He favorite example was a farm cooperative that was moving into butter production, their plan was to become sustainable and she awarded them 10,000 euros. Their proposal was written on napkins, but she gave them aid because they qualified and because their plan had the goal of becoming independent of the giving. 

Suzie also funded small water purification enterprises. These were quasi non-profit micro-lending enterprises where the aid would go to a credit union… they in turn provided micro-loans to small entrepreneurs who would buy water purification systems and sell clean water at half the asking price in in cities, towns, and small rural villages. She also funded a gun buy-back program in which the guns were decommissioned and melted down to create pubic art. Her biggest grantee was the Swiss Red Cross which had an 85% aid distribution program which impacted over 50 sustainable projects. They got the maximum allotment of 500,000 euros. All of this meant a great deal of extra work for Suzie. She spent many days traveling to hard to reach, forbidden, or even ‘godforsaken’ places. But, she always found the visits empowering and motivational to her work. 

Word got back to her superiors back home of her unorthodox granting. Suddenly, everyone who she worked with was upset. She stopped being invited to the polite business lunches. Suzie got calls from her state department back home. “How can you fund these proposals,” they asked? “These are written in tribal languages and Sanskrit! We even have one here that was submitted on a napkin!” Suzie had her answer: “there was never a request for penmanship or materials needed for submission. Their submissions were simply the best qualified and met all of our requirements. That is why I rewrote summaries, mission statements, measures and outcomes in our language. When we ask for proposals for a program in other countries at home, we don’t ask that those proposals be written in another language, do we?” 

Suzie left a lot of people stumped. She had not dispersed even one third of her allotments of aid. “Of the qualified projects, I only gave them what they were asking for or the maximum award qualified. The other projects did not even qualify, so why would we award them?” She was right. 

As the year progressed, Suzie was requested to meet with the Ambassador, the Embassy CFO/COO, and to conduct extensive accounting interviews. Suzie went to her meetings prepared. She had done her research. Of the major NGOs who had applied for aid, only one had overhead costs of less than 80%. Most had overhead in the mid 90th percentile. Tom, her predecessor, it turned out, had not liked to travel to follow up a required by the Embassy. He had conveniently worked only with those agencies that produced regular and detailed reports with photographs and all accoutrement required to submit his reports. Therefore, he could not have possibly worked with the type of organizations that Suzie chose to grant. 

Suzie got a big promotion. She is now chair of the committee for aid distribution to sub-Saharan-East Africa. This year, she will give a keynote address to the Conference on African and Asia Economic Development at the Hague, Netherlands. We hope she makes a big impression!! 

Tom, Suzie’s predecessor, also got a promotion, he is in charge of international audits at the home office. Too bad.

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Land Travel in Ethiopia

Ethiopia isn't all that big, about twice the size of Texas. But most tourists take private landrovers or use Ethiopian Air. But if you know anything of us, you probably expect that we choose a different mode.

However, we understood the benefits of private and air travel on our very first bus ride. After missing the 5AM bus to our original destination of Bahir Dar, we hopped the next bus north: destination, Debre Marcos, about 250 kilometers away. Our bus was the local one, big and lurching and stifling unless you score a seat crammed against a window. As we have recently learned, Ethiopians have a superstition against bird: the draft that attacks the back of your neck. So, the window is a mute point, aside from the view.

So, the bus was fine. For the first three hours. Then we descended into the Nile Gorge: airless both inside and out. By this time, windows were being cracked. A smidgen. Barren, dry, not a speck of water, with occasional cacti breaking the stark terrain.

This first bus trip, covering 250 kilometers, took a total of eight hours. That's an average of about 30 kilometers an hour. Metal roof of the bus sending radioactive currents into my sweaty head. Children crying with discomfort. But we made it, and Debre Marcos was wonderfully real and far from the tourist path. And there is a sense of comradery among people that share uncomfortable situations. There wasn't the communal clapping that sometimes follows a disconcerting plane landing, but the sighs of relief upon arriving in Debre Marcos were in unison.

Road conditions are difficult in Ethiopia, and the quality of your bus seems to be luck of the draw. The double-price minibuses don't seem to be worth the price. From Gonder we did join a group of six foreign teachers on vacation from their school in Kenya, all hell-bent on making the two day (local bus itinerary) trip to Lalibela in one day. A flight, though incredibly overpriced, takes 45 minutes. An initial estimate of seven hours on the bus turned to nine, then ten, then twelve as the scalding pressure of the interior bus radiator continued to seep steam, occasionally blowing off the cap and nearly scalding passengers. 

We met many villagers that day. Our bus was a traveling circus troupe, the locals just didn't know what to make of us. During one of the many pauses, our traveling comrades all climbed atop the minibus for a A-Team photo-op; the locals were hysterical with laughter. We are grateful for the kindness of the Ethiopian villages, and the opportunities to provide unfathomable entertainment.

Winding roads, section of loose gravel, ancient buses (until yesterday, I hadn't heard the sound of a tape deck eating the tape in a looong time), poor pedestrian etiquette, and a menagerie of large and small, horned and hoofed, furry and fast, humped and ornery beasts wandering back and forth and along the road. A long break occurred on our bus yesterday when a troupe of CAMELS casually blocked the entire width, chewing meditatively and paying no heed to the blaring horns.

With only one month here, sometimes we feel that we are destined to see most of Ethiopia through the windows of a bus. But that's better than seeing it from thousands of miles up in the air. But I say that because today we are only six (or nine or twelve) hours from Addis.

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A land of handholding and coffee!!

written by Nathan

Ethiopia is a delightful culture. Beautiful smiles are everywhere here. Public hugging and holding hands is commonplace. A certain happiness, contentment, and familiarity rings from all corners.

In some ways, culture forms building blocks bringing us together, giving a sense of 'belonging," making us feel comfortable. Culture is pervasively public in Asia and Africa.

For many years I have probed the subject of what makes a great culture. There is no shortage of answers easy or complex. So, for brevity's sake - this is my exposition of simple traits of great cultures….

Many years ago I came to a personal discovery of what makes great culture: coffee and bread. Part of this comes from my pride of being a New Orleanian. If we have given the world Jazz, Creole culture, American food, Franco-American opera and the like, what you cannot get in any imitated form outside of New Orleans is its coffee or 'French' bread.

After a bit of travel, I concluded that the places which felt most cultured to me in the best sense of the word had these two defining characteristics embedded deep in the cultural soul: good coffee and delicious bread. Paris has the bread and coffee culture. Buenos Aires has it too. Ethiopia ranks happily on this quality culture list.

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Brotherly Love

When, over a month ago, we first arrived in India, I was astounded. Of course, my awe was a result of an entirely novel and culturally different place: new experiences came at every turn. New faces, new foods, new smells, the whole package was so new. I remember being absolutely delighted by the openness of male homosexuality; everywhere I looked, men were holding hands, arms were wrapped around waists, and tall figures were sitting on laps with long legs intertwined. With a real absence of women in the commercial and street life, I hoped that the same tolerance extended to the homosexual women that appeared to stay predominantly behind the closed doors of their homes.

Oh the never-ending foolishness of foreigners….does it ever end?

India is a land of brotherly love. My eyes did not deceive me: men were certainly showing outward and blatant physical affection. But I quickly learned that my assumptions were created by a land of minimal public affection in the land I am from. When you see two grown men holding hands, walking down the street, what do you think? If you are from a Western culture, you may have made a similar, and equally incorrect, deduction.

In India, and in Ethiopia too, men who are friends hold hands. They cuddle. They snuggle. They drape their bodies around each other while sitting. Public affection is commonplace, personal boundaries are minute, social stigmas around homosexuality are different. How different? I can't profess to be an expert, or to have any real knowledge.

Does it have something to do with the extreme sexual repression that permeates the male population of India? Pre-marital sex is absolutely taboo and match-making services (many now use online services) are a popular topic in everyday conversation. Women rarely walk the streets unattended and there seems to be limited opportunities for unsupervised interactions between the sexes. All of this, combined with the staggering and devastating numbers of female infanticide, sati, and deference shown to men, means that the gender balance is

highly skewed. Perhaps some of the physical affection displayed by men is a substitute for the oftentimes unattainable female partner? Perhaps there is indeed a large population of homosexual men? I don't have answers to any of these questions, only speculations.

Now, I can't speak to the actual prevelance of male (or female) homosexuality in southeast Asia or Africa. I didn't seek out this community, or see much to support the likelihood of its widespread existence. My usual course of action would be to "ask google" and fill in this blog with research information; however, the deficit of

internet access here means that I will have to save any theories for the future. Maybe the next trip.

Or maybe you know?

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