I’m Not Going Back to Salt Lake City and This Was from Katie, So Africa…You Lose

Written 5/16/2008

Just when I was getting comfortable with Africa winning over and over again, today happened. Let me tell you about it.

So last summer before I left for Africa, I visited a little place called Salt Lake City, Utah. Bethany’s little sister Katie was coming back from a European choir tour and I just happened to be visiting Idaho at the time, so I went with the family on the road trip to Utah to pick her up from the airport. While there we saw quite a few things, but the most incredible had to be the Patagonia Outlet Store. So many things on sale and not enough money to buy it all. So I settled for a sweet mint green Capilene 3 long sleeve shirt. Potentially the best purchase in the world. Got it for $14 when it retails at $65!

So today, Bethany, Jarrett and I were at a restaurant called Paradise for about 6 hours trying to purchase our tickets for Europe. At one point though, I moved down to a different café called Kaldis to charge my computer battery. It was there that I left my mint green Patagonia Capilene 3 long sleeve shirt. I went about my day however not knowing I had lost such a prized possession. After hours of raileurope.com and easyjet mishaps, we finished two of three ticket purchasing goals and left to get a taxi home. On the way I decided that I would walk to a supermarket first to get chicken for dinner and that Jarrett and Bethany would just go home without me. So I walked to Fantu Supermarket only to find a barren freezer with no chicken in sight. Dejected, I made my way out the front doors and back to the traffic circle to catch a taxi. It was on the way there however, that I realized what I was missing. Relieved by my memory and the thought of getting my shirt back I made my way to Kaldis. I ascended two flights of stairs and went back to my seat to find nothing. After asking multiple waitresses if they had seen it, one said, “Lela so alle.” What? Another person has it? Why? Did he steal it? Did I just get my shirt stolen? Well…the answer was…yes. It had been stolen. Even more depressed, I left Kaldis with my head down and started the taxi finding process once again.

As I approached the circle, I lifted my head, not out of pride or an attempt to regain my patience, but to avoid getting hit by crazy taxi drivers. Head lifted, I caught a glance of a mint green shimmer about 75 yards away, oddly enough, back toward the store where I had just been to find chicken. MY SHIRT! I hurried quickly to catch up with this thief and regain my property. He veered off the beaten path a bit down into a depression in the dirt where some sewage construction was being done. I followed him down in and tapped him on the shoulder with a bit of force. He turned and I firmly stated, “Y’ene libs no.” Not as accurate as I would have hoped, but, “It is my clothes” would have to suffice. An argumentative response is what he gave me. So I repeated myself with a little more insistence. Along with his second response he gave me a strong step forward and a physically uncomfortable advance. With him heavily invading my bubble…which doesn’t exist in Ethiopia…I repeated myself and added, “Ishi, sent tifeligal?” But apparently he didn’t want money, so my asking how much he wanted was worthless. Strangely enough, he angrily removed the shirt and held it at his side, glaring intently into my eyes. Then surprisingly, with the shirt in his right hand, he forcefully held the shirt as if to give it to me. Shocked but pleased, I reached for the shirt with my right hand. Then, out of nowhere a looping left hook came out of the corner of  my eye and I moved just in time to reduce the blow and take it in the forehead rather than in the face! “Did he just hit me?” speedily made it’s way through my thoughts. Flabergasted and in a bit of pain, I held onto the shirt and tried to push him away with my left. Switching his grip on the shirt, he then slugged me in the stomach just left of my gut and again I turned the other cheek and tried to push him back. Grabbing my shirt where he had just struck, he pulled me toward him then quickly away. Letting his grip go of the shirt, I got my footing just in case. Again, he went for a left hook. Is he crazy? It’s just a shirt! As the punch came my way, I ducked just enough to miss the shot, simultaneously dropped my shirt, and then reacted. Faster than I could think, I finally retaliated with a cocked right cross to his upper cheek and every amount of strength I had within me. Instantly he collapsed to the ground and didn’t move. Did I kill him? Oh crap I’m going to prison!  He started to move a bit, so I picked up the shirt and slowly backed away. With a sizeable knot on my forehead and a pounding headache, I mad my way back to the taxi stop looking back every few yards to make sure I didn’t really hurt him. I found a Winnebago-esque bus quite quickly and hopped aboard. Watching him as we passed, I saw him stagger slowly to his feet and take a seat on a nearby rock. Thankfully he wasn’t hurt too badly. I don’t want to experience Ethiopian prison. They don’t have food there.

A little shaken up, I couldn’t help but think that I hadn’t been in a fight since 10th grade and it was nothing compared to this. I was just happy to be safe, shirt in hand and on my way home. My next thought, oddly enough, was that I still had not acquired the chicken for dinner. A few miles down the road though, there was another store that I could make the purchase. A mile later however, Africa tried again.

As I stood in the aisle of the bus, arms stretched to either side as braces, I felt something in my right pocket enter and exit very quickly. With my wits still about me, I reacted with a quick grab of the perpetrator’s wrist. His snake of an arm slipped out though just as I caught a glimpse of his face. Not in the mood for another fight I just shouted, “leba!” Having no tolerance for thieves, the men surrounding me on the taxi asked me to point out the thief that I had just called out. Eyeing the men in the back closely through the shadowed faces and sun light streaks of dark brown skin, I spotted the man nonchalantly gazing out a side window. I pointed with my right arm and instantly the bus came to a screeching halt and the men that were once my standing buddies had quickly become my henchmen. They made their way to the back of the taxi and with a bit of finesse, they pat him down, got my keys to me, and removed the man from the bus in the same way Uncle Phil tosses Jazzy Jeff out the front door of his Bel-Air mansion. Following the man’s quick exit, the men give him a short beating and then literally tag team threw him off the street and into the dirt. Back on the taxi, the driver thanked the men and we headed toward home. At this point, the chicken was the last thing on my mind.

The special thing about those keys…they were connected to a pocketknife. But not just any pocket knife. A genuine, red Swiss Army Camp Edition Pocketknife, with my name engraved into it, purchased by none other than Bethany’s little sister…Katie. Where did she get this pocketknife? Well…in Switzerland, on that same European choir tour that had led me to Salt Lake City to purchase a mint green Capilene 3 long sleeve shirt.

I’m just happy to have both in my possession and finally be able to say, “Africa loses this round.”

Ibuprofen Finally Kicking In,
Joshua

PS. Hi Katie!

Africa Wins Again

Written 5/15/2008

It’s been a few days since my last post. It’s been a good week thus far. Monday and Wednesday’s classes went better than I thought they would. My grade five and six classes are writing letters to America. They couldn’t be more excited about anything in the world. My little brothers’ classes are going to act as pen pals for my classes here in Ethiopia by writing letters back to us before the school year is finished. Jack (9) is in third grade and is really excited to be doing this letter project. He’s missed me a lot over this past year and I think this makes him feel a lot more connected to me. I’m glad he’s excited about it. Andrew (12) is in sixth grade and hopefully his teacher will be excited as well. I haven’t got an email back from him, but I’m optimistic that it’ll work out. Other than that, life has been pretty normal…well, as normal as it gets here in Addis.

Oh! One cool thing that I’ve gotten together at school is “The HOPE School Championship.” I’m organizing a soccer match between the HOPE Grade School teachers and the HOPE Vocational School teachers this next Friday. Everyone is pitching in 10 Birr so we can buy a sheep or two and slaughter it after the game is finished. Then we’ll have a feast to celebrate! Nothing like fresh meat.

Speaking of meat, Jarrett and I are going out in about an hour to hang out with Befekadu (brother…see post, “An All-Star Cast”). We’re going to this place called Elsa Bar. Basically it’s a bar, but they sell food also. The catch is…all they have is various forms of beef. You can get tibs, chekena tibs (same as tibs, just extra tender meat), kittfo (raw, seasoned ground beef) and tere sega (huge slabs of raw steak meat that they eat with burning hot pepper powder called mit mita…take a knife and dig in!). Also, they have pretty good draft beer there as well…half liter for 3 Birr, about .30 USD! We should have a good time. Bef really likes to hang out with the guys, so whenever he gets to hang out with me, he’s really excited and I am too because he’s pretty hilarious. Especially when we teach him words like, “Boo!” or “Give him an Oscar!” (used when Ronaldo flops in the box without being touched and then cries like a little girl to get a call). My personal favorite however, is “Duh!”

So… why is the title of this post, “Africa Wins Again”? Well, it’s become a new saying of mine. A friend of ours uses it with his son whenever things just don’t go their way here in Ethiopia. It helps to continue being patient through really frustrating things just to say, “Well…Africa wins again.” And it’s not like I’m keeping score or anything because that might get depressing considering I use the phrase about three times a day. So the question is…when do you use this handy phrase? I’ll give you some examples…

You’re taking a nice warm shower and you’ve just soaped up your entire body in an effort to get all the dust, diesel, and sweat off. You set the bar of soap in the soap holder and drip…drip…drip…drip. Out of nowhere, the city of Addis Ababa thinks it would be a great idea to shut your water off. How exactly do you get soap off your body without water? I guess you’ll have to find out. It might involve a bucket, a pitcher and 50 degrees of decrease in temperature. Well…Africa wins again.

You spend hours spraying the house with Raid to get rid of the thousand mosquitoes and other crawling things, go to bed happy and feeling successful only to wake up with 45 bug bites over the entirety of your body. Well…Africa wins again.

You’re walking along an hour and a half from home thinking everything is right in the world only to have something in your digestive system instantly drop from esophagus to colon and demand exit. You run to the nearest shop and ask if they have a bathroom. Nope. Next. Nope. Ten shops later you find a kind gentleman who escorts you to the restroom. However, his idea of a restroom is outside, and merely a ledge, which you are supposed to hang yourself over and let it drop. The catch is…there is a bustling market full of people just down the hill from where your hind end is pointing. They have a great view of your privacy. Well…Africa wins again.

So you’re at a bar having dinner. It’s only a five-minute taxi ride back home, so it’s no big deal when it’s time to leave. However, the largest rain, thunder and lightening storm you’ve ever seen just began and you have to stand and fight for taxi while getting sopping wet (normal occurrence). So a half hour goes by and finally all five of you fight your way onto a mini-bus. Finally. Safety from the elements and a ride back to a cozy home. So you pull off the curb having a good time continuing the conversation from dinner and WHAM HONK SRAPE HONK CRASH HONK BANG HONK SKID!!!!!!!! Your driver fails to look at all where he’s going before he pulls out and your side of the mini-bus gets hit by a Winnebago-sized bus and you get thrown into another car on your right hand side, scrape down the length of it, and come to a skidding stop. Everyone, thank God, is okay…but the taxi isn’t and you’re forced to get back out into the rain and fight for another taxi…but no taxi comes. So…you walk home the mile and a half in the pouring rain. Well…Africa wins again.

I think you guys get the picture. It’s just a way to brush things off that normally would make you extremely frustrated. What I’ve learned here is that there are so many more things that are outside of my control in Ethiopia than in the States. If I don’t come up with ways to be creatively patient, life gets to me. I start getting frustrated and intolerant of daily things that shouldn’t upset me. So…I use this phrase.

So, I hope that gave you a little insight into my life here in Ethiopia. I miss you all a ton.

59 Days left!

A Winner for Today,
Joshua

The Whiners Win It and Jarrett Was There to See It

Written on 5/11/2008

So I think I forgot to mention that last weekend, Maren and Sarah’s brother, Jarrett, flew in to Addis and is staying with us for three weeks. Jarrett is a pretty great guy and we actually lived on the same floor in college my sophomore (his freshman) year. It’s been nice having another guy around the house. The other night, I heard the phrase, “I agree with Josh” for the first time in about nine months…it’s a refreshing feeling to have someone around that realizes that I’m right. In all honesty, it’s just nice to have a guy around to relate with in a guy way…refer to sports history and have them know what I’m talking about and just be guys…not that girls are bad, just different.

Anyway, tonight was the last round of games for the English Premier League. Going into the game, Chelsea and Manchester United were tied in points and would decide the title with the outcome of each of their games. Chelsea was at home against Bolton and came up with a sad looking draw and lost their captain and central defender, John Terry, to a broken arm in the first five minutes of the game. The outcome of their game had no bearing on the outcome of the league given the fact that Manchester United came up with a 2-0 victory away to Wigan. The game was a little questionably called by the referee (missed an obvious handball in the box on Man U and then gave a weak penalty to them on the other end, thus putting Man U up 1-0 and taking the wind out of Wigan’s sails) and Wigan sort of fell apart in the second half. They had plenty of chances to put it in the goal, but never made it happen. So…not only did Arsenal not come through this season, the Manchester Whiners took the cup. Here’s the deal…I know that they have a bunch of good players. Actually, they have a bunch of really good players. Christiano Ronaldo is one of the best players in the world, but even still, his potential is wasted on flopping and whining. He had 31 goals this season, the most in the league by any one player. But in all reality, if he stuck with his runs, sucked it up a bit, stopped whining and looking for calls, and stayed on his feet, he could have probably 50 goals! I can’t stand players that think they are so good that they should just be handed calls whenever they think they should get one. That’s not what sports are about. Suck it up. Play the game. Let the ref be the ref and you be the player. Just because you’re a pretty-boy, Portuguese all-star who scores a lot of goals, doesn’t mean you should be treated any differently on the field.

Okay…I’m done with my rant…I just need to get that off my chest. Anyway, Jarrett came with Bethany, Maren and I to watch the game. He was pretty impressed at the amount of people they could cram in a tiny room and how much the Ethiopians are into British soccer.

Blessing of the night…we got a taxi all the way from downtown back to our home. That might not sound like much to you, but to us it’s the most relieving feeling in our humble normally slow-paced lives here in Ethiopia. Sometimes getting a taxi at night is more like 50 lions fighting to get a bite of one rabbit…except with people trying to steal everything out of your pockets at the same time. So it was a great feeling.

It’s about 9:00 now, so I should get to bed soon. Wow…with that bedtime, all I would have to do is start hitting up the 4pm Denny’s dinner special and I’d be a senior citizen. I guess life’s just different here in Ethiopia.

As I sleep, all you stateside folks have a great day, and those of you closer to my time zone, sleep well.

Ready for the week,
Joshua

Mommy and Daddy Return

Written on 5/6/2008

Well…in the late afternoon, Dasia’s mommy and daddy came home. That’s right, back to young adulthood without children. It was a fun time and Dasia’s actually not too bad for being two. We had a lot of fun, but will take some lasting memories from the experience.

The top five memories are as follows:

5.) “Come on vamanos! Everybody let’s go! You know there’s nothing to it! You know that we can do it! D-d-d-d-d-Dora! d-d-d-d-d-Dora! Dora, Dora, Dora the Explorer! With Boots their super cool explora loras!” Why do I know the entire intro song to Dora the Explorer? Twice a day ought to do it.

4.) Due to the fact that Dasia sees me more often, Bethany is also called Josh.

3.) SMACK! Followed by blood curdling screams as I open a door at a faster than normal speed only to find that Dasia’s forehead was positioned perfectly behind the door to absorb all of it’s impact.

2.) “Dasia! Do not touch the doggy’s poop!”

1.)    Bathtime. While I was preparing the water for Dasia’s bath, Bethany made the crucial mistake of prematurely removing Dasia’s clothes. A pint of pee later, I had to leave the room so Bethany could change her soaked shirt. Dasia just smiled and said, “Uh-oh!”

That about sums up our babysitting experience. Hope you enjoyed!

Done,
Joshua

Resurrection, Bräu, Bratwurst and a Two Year-Old Girl

Written on 5/4/2008

Hey everyone! Just dropping in to let you know I’m still here. It has been a pretty eventful last couple of weeks. Maren and Sarah’s parents were in town for about a week, which was a great visit. It definitely made me miss my family a lot more. But only 70 days left! So I think I can make it.

So let’s see…what’s new? Well, I know that Easter was almost two months ago, but here in Ethiopia, the church celebrates Easter a lot later…the whole Coptic calendar thing…so we just celebrated it again last Sunday. It was pretty cool because the orthodox families we know had been fasting from all animal products (eggs, milk, meat, cheese, etc.) for 55 days…way more hardcore than lent in the US…so they really go all out with the meat on Easter Sunday. The morning began with a sunrise sheep slaughtering. Fifteen minutes and the 16 year-old butcher had that thing flayed open and pieced apart ready to hit the frying pan. We had lunch at our family’s house. Way too much food. Then the next night, we had Ethiopian food again. Then on Tuesday, we had it again. Normally, the trend would continue that Maren, Bethany and I would spend the next week laid up in bed and continuously rotating in and out of the bathroom and exceeding our monthly budget of toilet paper. But not this time. We were smart, stayed away from the “difficult” foods and made it through the holiday safely. The week went by rather quickly because the Monday after Easter is a no school day and Thursday was national laborers day. It’s now Sunday and we have another holiday tomorrow! Ethiopian Patriot’s Day! I’m not sure what it is, but it’s a day off, so I’m not complaining.

Anyway, I am compelled to tell you about an incredible discovery that I made last night. It is called, “Garden Bräu” which I’m pretty sure means “Beer Garden” in German. Drew Kreeger can correct me if I’m wrong. Regardless, I heard a rumor that they had good German beer (anything’s better than the water they call beer here in Ethiopia), bratwurst and schnitzel. I was quite skeptical at first, but upon entry, all my expectations were exceeded. The night only continued to get better when I taste tested a cold .2 litre glass of Blondy fresh from the tap. Crisp, clean, smooth, not to thin, not too thick, but just right. The group proceeded to share a three-foot tall personal beer tower (with tap) as we dined on the finest of German cuisine. Some sauerkraut, bread, authentic German mustard and two giant brats later, we headed home to get a good night’s rest. The next three days would be fun ones.

Our friends, Damon and Heidi, have a beautiful two year-old daughter named Dasia (like the continent “Asia” with a  “D” in front). They haven’t had much alone time in about…a year, so Bethany and I volunteered to watch Dasia for three days at their house while they went to a resort about an hour outside of Addis. This morning, we picked up Dasia from the house and took her to church with us. That was a fun time and we had no hiccups along the way. It’s about 8pm now and to say the least…I’m tired. Turns out two year-olds need you to do EVERYTHING for them. They’re so dependent. But I guess that’s what they all are like. Bethany and I came to one conclusion. If you know someone who’s thinking about having sex, let ‘em take care of a two year-old for three days. That’ll change their minds. Someone could even market it to teenagers. Like, “Hey you! Thinking about having sex in high school? Think again. Baby’s are like leeches! Take care of this one for three days and see how it feels! It’ll suck all your life away!” Now don’t get me wrong on this, babies are incredible gifts from God. But as a twenty three year old…let alone as a high schooler…two year-olds are not all they’re cracked up to be. They basically, eat, sleep, poop and whine constantly about all three. You really can’t win. And the worst thing is…they’re still cute, so you can’t get mad at them. Especially when you’re trying to scold them for throwing their food all around the house and they look at you and repeat your playful words from earlier, “I’m donna det you!” with that cute baby face, that cute baby smile, and that devilish little grin that follows you failing in the scolding department. It’s great fun.

Only two more days. Then we can be childless again…for a long, long time.

Not ready to be a daddy,
Joshua