Never Again

At first glance in Kigali, the capital city of Rwanda, one would never suspect that just 15 years prior the city and country were blanketed in bloodshed. The city was the cleanest and most beautiful city I've visited in Africa to date. The haunting genocide of 1994 that gripped the nation and seized the lives of 800,000 Rwandans was accompanied by an infamously disappointing lack of international intervention. Tribe against tribe, the Hutu tribe set out to wipe out the Tutsi tribe and finally the Tutsis fought back and ended the battle. For three months the rest of the world stood by and watched. The international aid that flooded in, postwar, to help rebuild the war torn country was perhaps an effort to redeem the initial failure to interceed? Outward renovation aside, the people still bear the scars. I spoke with a waiter at a restaurant who paused mid sentence as he began to describe the scene around him in the months from April to June of '94. He let his comments fade as if the recollection hit too painfully close to home, and we led the conversation elsewhere. I met a teenage boy sitting at the bus station who was orphaned as a result of his parents' brutal murder. If time heals all wounds, every day Rwanda is on it's way. The people seem to be heartily embracing the breakdown of a tribal divide and working towards a unity of the people. I asked several people which tribe they belonged to, the Hutu, the Tutsi, or the Twa and always received the same response. "I am Rwandan". A sign of progress. The words, "Never Again" repeated themselves at several points during my visit to the genocide memorial in the center of town. They were displayed in the historical exhibit along with a question of why these words were not lived up to after the holocaust? Why did the international community claim, "Never Again....will genocide live in our world" and then stand by as the killing fields ensued once again. Analysts agree that the troops that were used to evacuate diplomats and foreign workers in the country were enough, had they returned to defend and fight, to stop the violence. The memorial and museum told the stories of all acts of genocide in the 20th century from Cambodia to Germany, Namibia to Rwanda. When I finished the exhibit, I walked outside to the mass graves in which 250,000 Rwandan genocide victims are buried. There were a group of Europeans (I could not quite pin their accent) chanting prayers over the graves. There were fresh floral arrangements laid out across the top of the graves draped with sashes that read, "Never Again". Pledges once again.

Whitewater rafting at the Source of the Nile!!

I've never been whitewater rafting and have always wanted to go. So I figured, go big or go home...why not experience it for the first time in level 5 rapids (the highest commercially possible) at the very source of the Nile in AFRICA? I read about the experience in my handy dandy 'Lonely Planet' Travel guide and then booked with a company that was recommended at the guesthouse I was staying at in Jinja, a small, charming town there at the source. I was not sure exactly what to expect when I hopped on the charter bus that escorted me to The "Adrift" site. I arrived and went straight to the information kiosk where I was greeted by a guy that resembled "the Dude" from "The Big Lebowski" with his sunburned arms under his old ratty cutoff T-shirt, wild long head of hair, unkempt facial hair, and not-so-stunning shades. In his low, raspy, and surfer-like voice he explained to me the details of the trip and I then signed my life away on a voucher that insured I would be rafting at my own risk...da, da, da, da.......We had an hour or so before we embarked out on the open river so I sat myself down at a picnic table of American aid workers from all over the country working together in Uganda. They had been spending their weekends together on exciting excurcions, and rafting was next on the list. Adam, Jim, Ben, Krista, Ali, and later Rob would be my team on the rapids for the day. After exchanging the standard pleasantries and get-to-know-you conversations, we set out on the journey. In preparation for the day in the sun, we all lathered on a generous amount of sunscreen and then armored up in helmets and life jackets. Our guide, Tutu, we realized later, was the most fun and enthusiastic of all the guides and walked us through the standard procedures first on while still on land and then continued as we climbed into the rafting boat. I chose the 2nd out of 4 rows to stake my position. I did not want to be out in front responsible for the most strength in rowing and the highest possible danger zone, but I also did not want to miss out on the best action. We all went through the rowing motions as instructed to us by Tutu and learned the various skills to be applied at certain times during the trip, including, "Get Down!!!" At which point you would bend down into the boat and hold on for dear life. The beginning of the trip was mild as we meandered over a couple of level 2 and 3 rapids that offered a tiny bit of excitement but nothing to blog about. :) The entertainment included a few rounds of "Never Have I Ever", some psycho-analytic games, and Jim's famous would you rather------ OR take $$$(amount of money)questions which made for lots of laughs and instant bonding. Throughout the day, we encountered some 1 or 2 level rapids that offered up a mere, bump-in-the river experience. The level 3 and 4 rapids required our concentrated group effort to paddle through and stay on TOP of the water. The real action was during the level 5s. On these rapids, we paddled for a bit, and then all got down in unison into the raft in hopes that force of our weight at the bottom of the boat would keep the boat from capsizing. Twice, our efforts fell short and we flipped. The first time it was more a fun thrill than anything. We all toppled out near to the raft, had a few laughs, and successfully and smoothly swam back to the boat and hoisted ourselves back on. The second and last rapid we hit on the trip was by far the most dangerous. Tutu gave us the option to decide as a group how we wanted to approach this "king of the rapids". We could go for the level 4 zone that gave us a 50% chance of capsizing, or we could go for the level 5 in which we had about a 75% chance. Three of the group,were completely against taking such a risk and insisted we stay on level 4. The other four of us welcomed the challenge of such a low risk possibility of succeeding and went for the high risk, high reward option. So, we went with the majority, geared up, fiercely gripped our paddles, and put our game faces on. Upon arrival to the white water, Tutu instructed us to paddle intensely for about 5 seconds and then as the roaring water ensued, he shouted for us to get down and hold on! Two seconds later, the boat had flipped and left all 7 us to fend for ourselves against the violent rapids. I found myself in a swirl of panic as a felt the power of the water undercurrent pulling my body down as I struggled to gasp for air. When my head reached for the surface, I took the biggest breath I possibly could and unwilling took in some river water along with it. While I was able to capture some oxygen, I coughed out some water at the same time and went back under. As I was fighting my way back to the top, arms and legs working overtime, my next survival plan was to stick my hand as far out above the water as possible as a red flag for someone to save me. So I stuck my hand halfway out of the water, my face and body still submerged, and immediately I felt another hand grab onto mine. Before I even realized what had happened, I was holding on to the back of a rescue kayak and we were on our way out of the rapids. At this point, our boat had made it into the clear, and three other of our crew members were safe and in the boat. Tutu helped me back into the boat and we waited for the others to arrive. Thankfully, every member of our team made it back alive but not without an exciting story. Even though we all had considerable scares, we agreed that it was a good decision to chance the rapids, and the excitement of falling over and surviving might have been just as good as staying afloat.

Zion Project and Invisible Children

The War in Northern Uganda between the LRA (Lord's Resistance Army) and the Ugandan Government can be traced back 23 years and has been regarded as the most neglected humanitarian emergency in the world today and it has spilled over into conflicts in the DR Congo and Sudan. It is estimated that over 90% of the LRA were abducted as children leaving an entire generation left with scars and shattered lives. While I was in Gulu, the far North of the country, I was able to see and observe two organizations that are committed to being the glue to help piece back together the lives of these child soldiers. The first, Zion Project, was founded by an old friend of mine from Washington, DC, Sarita Hartz. When I met Sarita 6 years ago, she was working with underpriveleged single mothers and had a heart for the continent of AFRICA. Today, she is still working with impoverished mothers, some who have been raped by members of the LRA, and still other former female child soldiers. This time it's in Uganda. Her organization has a holistic approach to healing process seeking to provide programs that deal with spiritual, emotional, and physical restoration. On site at the Zion Project HQ I watched enthusiastic Ugandan ladies dilligantly piecing together gorgeous and colorful handmade necklaces. I also sat through Sarita's counseling classes that deal with getting to the root of the hurt, encouraging forgiveness, and empowering a move forward based in the shelter of the love of God. On a trip to the other side of the town, I visited the "Daughters of Zion" house where young girls below the age of 12 who are loved, counseled, and given a safe haven from the evils of their worlds. The girls were enthusiastic and jubiliant in their interactions with me and it was a true blessing to spend a bit of time with them. I am so amazed by the work that Sarita has done in the past couple of years in her work with these women and children and am looking forward to watching the progress of her vision unfold. During my time in Gulu, I was also able to pop over to 'The Invisible Children' Uganda headquarters to get a feel for the work they are doing. Invisible Children was started after a group of young filmakers from California produced a documentary on the Ugandan Child Soldiers and it spread like wildfire through the US and inspired a movement to make a difference in the lives of these kids. Through mentoring, advocacy, and now microlending projects, the organization has brought massive awareness and is effecting real change in helping to end the violence and bring hope to the nation. There were a couple of projects that they are undergoing that really piqued my interest. The first is a form of microlending that was adapted from a recent Nobel Prize winner's theory and has been proving to be quite successful for the parties involved. The way it works is that 20 people team up and add money to a "pot". From that pot, the individuals apply for a loan from their peers for a specific project that is then approved by the group at an agreed upon payback schedule and interest rate. The model has proven to be extremely productive and successful while the groups are within a 5 mile living radius from one another so they are able to meet on a weekly basis for support and accountability purposes. The other project that fascinated me is one that Invisible Children is teaming up with the UN on implementing in the DR Congo. The UN is providing a form of GPS technology that tracks the whereabouts of the rebel armies based on the ability to track the material of their uniforms. Towers are now being built all over Congo and the technology will allow for about a 5 hour warning window in which individuals will be able to evacuate, hide, and/or generally prepare for a possible attack. It may not be the best and most effective solution, but it is definitely a good start and a way for these otherwise defenseless victims to have some sort of a cushion of security to defend themselves and stay safe. With the work that both Zion Project and Invisible Children and others are doing to alleviate suffering in wartorn East Africa, there is hope for a brighter future.

Fountain of Life

I met Moses on a mission trip to UGANDA two years ago and I was excited to see the progress of his vision 'Fountain of Life Ministries' since then. He oversees 15 churches in UGANDA and works with 10-15 (plus) schools. He invited me to stay in Hoima and to speak at a couple of churches and a number of schools. Hoima is just slightly off the muddy beaten path and is a remote village outside of Kampala, Uganda, the capital city containing a few shops, small marketplace for the buying and selling of groceries, and plenty of mud huts and shacks where the inhabitants live. Needless to say this place is poverty stricken. I stayed with Moses for the week in his apartment with electricity but no running water. Each day I was served a wonderful traditional spread for both breakfast and dinner, a testament to the famous Ugandan hospitality. I enjoyed getting to know Moses' roommate, Immanuel, his sister Grace, and several of the church people. We spent our days visiting schools in the surrounding areas and loved to meet and play with the schoolchildren and was honored to have the opportunity to speak to them, sing with them, and play with them. So many of them are in so much need. Living hand to mouth day to day oftentimes they are forced to stay home and work to help support the family. Other times there is simply not enough money to pay for school fees, books, and uniforms. During my time in Hoima one of the local high schools was forced to shut down from lack of sustainable finances and the kids were left with inadequate direction and standardized test preparation, and were uncertain about their educational futures. We constantly hear the proverbial slogan, "Education is the Key", but there can be so many obstacles for these kids in the pursuit in obtaining the key. The few who are able to get their education are then faced with the lack of open doors in a nearly non-existant job market. These are problems that have existed for the ages, and while there has been some progress made, there are still many mountains to be moved. There needs to be strong corruption-free leadership in place and more creative thinking applied to help solve these problems along with a paradigm shift in the mentality of the people - a true belief that their dreams can be realized and that where there is a will there is truly a way.

Published!!

At the end of a tough assignment in Egypt ;), Dreamscapes Travel and Lifestyle Magazine has published my commentaries on golf, spas, and a pilgrimage up Mt. Sinai in their 2010 Fall-Winter Edition.

The 7th New Wonder of the World - Maasai Mara

The New wonders are separate from the conventional Seven Wonders of the world known for centuries and which are classified by UNESCO. The Maasai Mara and Serengeti and the wildebeest migration have recently been classified in this chosen few for its uniqueness of the area and the preservation it provides to so many species living in harmony and boy did I stay in wonder over all the the things I saw on my two day safari. We took off from Downtown Nairobi in a small tour bus. Our crew included a couple from the UK, an aid worker from the UK working in Malawi, a Kenyan from the Maasai tribe who had never been to see the Maasis Mara, an American educator living in Cote D'Ivoire, and yours truly. The long ride out, like most in my journey through AFRICA was both challenging thanks to poor road conditions, and extremely scenic. Very near to our arrival, we stopped at an amazing lookout point of the Great Rift Valley which stretches 3700 miles from Syria to Mozambique - a great photo op and pitstop. There is something about staring out upon a natural expanse that seems to go on forever, that calms the soul while reminding me of the greatness of God. On from there, we marveled at the Serengeti desert until finally arriving at our Safari camp. My two nights at Masaai Mara would be spent in a 'pimped out' tent that included a hot shower and Western style toilet (as opposed to African style squatty potties) with plumbing and electric outlets - my kind of camping! We quickly settled in and jumped into our Safari style van with a roof raising top ideal for viewing the game while standing and driving. The weather that day was most cloudy with drizzling rain throughout. We started our safari at the Maasi village near the reserve to learn about the people who inhabited the land. We were greeted by a Maasai warrior dressed in a traditional red patterned cloak who began to give us a tour of the small village which was lined with mud houses. We met the children and then about 10 men lined up for a show of dance. The dance included chanting and jumping and was a competition and show of strength. The man who was able to jump the highest was considered the most "able" mate. Next up were the ladies, and the four of us in our group were invited to join them. We participated in a series of hand movements while standing one next to another and circling about. We ended our one hour tour by visting the home of some of the villagers. We walked inside to complete darkness apart from some very slight light showing through a small window/opening and learned of the famous Maasai warrior right of passage. When a boy reaches the ages of 18-24 and he is ready to enter into manhood, he joins a group of 20-30 other boys to go on a lion hunt to kill a lion to bring back to the village. The boys cannot return until they are successful in their intention. So, they take their spears and head out into the wild. The boy whose spear is the first to pierce the lion is considered the winner. He will keep the lion skins for himself and have his choice of the ladies for his wife. The other boys will follow in assisting to kill the lion and when they return to their homes, they have now been endowed with manhood and will be able to marry. On our way out of the village, I purchased a Maasai blanket from one of the men as a keepsake of my time, and we all hopped back into the van to begin our gamewatching. Luckily, the animals were still out in full display despite the rain. First, a herd of wilderbeast caught our eyes, followed by water buffalo, ostriches, gazelle, and zebras. It was truly amazing to find all of these species cohabitating in peace so close to one another in a relatively small expanse. I was mostly hoping to spot a lion and I got my wish tenfold. The first "king-of-the-jungle" we saw was doing his afternoon stretching. He was yawning and contorting his legs in what almost looked to be a yoga session. Upward facing lion pose...now there's a new idea to implement for all the yoga lovers out there! Not far from "yoga lion" was another male and they eventually met up and walked away from our sight together in stride. It was a majestic picture. The next lion we saw was female and she was perched atop a small hill. We watched as she opened her mouth wide as a greeting to her onlookers. Finally, at the end of our time, we came upon a pride of lions. Here we saw about 4 mama lions and six cubs just lion around (pun anyone?). There they were relaxing in the middle of an enclosement of small bushes. Along with ours, there were about 5 other safari buses that had come upon the scene and were parked as people took photos. There we were staring at the lions and off in the distance thanks to the slight rains, was a double rainbow over Masaai Mara - truly breathtaking. As the sun started setting, the buses started leaving one by one. One of the vehicles that was parked very close to the lions containing a family with two small boys had become stuck in the mud and was the tires were spinning while while the driver was trying to create enough momentum to get out while at the same time digging himself in further. Our driver stayed behind to wait and see if there was any assistance that would need to be offered. Nobody would be able to get out of the vehicle lest they be eaten for dinner by a protective mama lion, and if another vehicle tried to push the stuck bus out, they were most likely to also get stuck. But there was no other choice, an attempt had to be made. So our driver reved his engine and drove towards the back of the vehicle. We were all left in suspense as our vehicle made contact and started spinning wheels and applying pressure. One minute later, the stuck bus started slowly moving and just seconds after we both found ourselves in the clear alive and in one piece! An incredible sightseeing topped off with an extreme adrenaline rush - truly a wonder of my world!

The Russians are Coming!

Mishka Babitchef was the very first Ethiopian pilot and was responsible for establishing Ethiopian aviation under the helm of Emperor Haile Selassie in the 1930s. His niece, his next-in-line living relative,Nadia a good friend of Winni's, and a new friend of mine, invited us to join in the festivities of the Russian government this day. Mishka was himself part Russian and part Ethiopian, the son of a Russian emigrant father and Ethiopian mother. Years after his death, the Russian government decided to honor his life and death as a Ethio-Russian hero responsible for establishing the Ethiopian/Russian diplomatic relations. The government had commissioned a team to produce a documentary around his life, his legacy, and his death memorial. The location of the filming and memorial this day was the graveyard of The Holy Trinity Cathedral in Addis Ababa the highest ranking Orthodox church in the country built by Emperor Haile Selassie and still affectionately called Haile Selassie Church by many Ethiopians. Buried in the grave sites around are important dignitaries and war heros including Mishka Babitchef, and buried under the church are Emperor Selassie and his family. Nadia, Winni, and I arrived at the church ceremony to a crew of photographers and a film team. Also on hand were the local television news crews. We got out of the car and were greeted by the Director of the Russian cultural affairs and Russian diplomatic attache. A number of Nadia's friends had also already arrived in support of her and the celebration and remembrance of her uncle's life. As we waited for the rest of the guests to arrive, I struck up a conversation with the Russian attache. He told me of his connection to Africa and how he was hired as a "professional adventurist" years ago to travel through Africa and report on cultural affairs on behalf of the Russian government. I asked him if they needed another one of these anytime soon to his amusement. I was dead serious. Oh well. When the ceremony was ready to begin about 15 orthodox priests suited up in their ornate gowns, hats, and holding their coptic crosses and incense bearing trinkets arrived on the scene. Their leader, Bishop Gabriel, conversed with the Russian entourage in fluent Russian. I had agreed to be Nadia's official photographer for the event so with her camera in hand, I began snapping photos. All of the friends and priests with Nadia in front gathered around Mishka's grave, cameras rolling. The priest began his sentiments, this time in Amharic. Out of language luck again. *Sigh*. Chants and incense filled the air in response to the Bishop's words honoring the famed pilot. Since I could not understand any of it, I decided to focus on capturing the event in pictures. The other graves were in the way of me gaining the perfect position but after a quick internal ethical battle, and watching the film and news crews crawl over the other graves on behalf of artistic excellence, I decided, over their dead bodies I would be left out. So I crawled over a few graves and perched myself and my camera right next to the cameraman from the Russian movie crew and continued taking photos. The Bishop was in the middle of a long monotone Amharic
prose and everyone was entranced when one of the priests next to him muttered something under his breath. Distracted by it, the Bishop stopped right in the middle of the chanting, turned to the priest, changed his somber face to a curious one and replied, "What?" It was so random and a completely awkward break that I could not help but laugh. Unfortunately, my under-my-breath intentioned laugh came out an outburst. Shocked eyes shot my way, and I quickly recovered to a somber face while the Bishop recovered to the somber prose. Oops, I'm sure that one will be edited out. At the end of the ceremony, candles were lit, tears were shed, hugs were exchanged, more photos taken, and we went on our way to the Russian cultural center for tea with Nadia and the Russians.

The Surma tribespeople of Jibba, Ethiopia

Arriving in Jibba village was stepping onto the other side of the world. Jibba lies on the Southeast border of Ethiopia and Sudan and we were instructed to bring along 4 armed guards with us to this remote and sometimes dangerous destination. Just a week prior a gentlemen was brutally killed by a Shifta guerilla fighter. On the bumpy way out to Jibba, the guards told us tales of deaths caused by both wild animal and guerilla fighter attacks - Not sure that this was necessarily the time or place to hear such stories, but I could bear to listen since they were each holding a large ouzi in their hand. Stepping out of the van, we were immediately surrounded by the village people giving us curious looks and long stares. Winnie and I made our way to the nearest general store to peruse the local jewelry. A bright friendly young man started chatting us up in perfect English. He introduced himself as Muluken and informed us that he worked in Jibba for the government in cultural affairs and it was his mandate to help preserve the Surma people's culture by encouraging the practices and educating Ethiopia on all that made the Surma people unique. He explained the piercing practices and the showed us several people who had lip and ear plates. Surprisingly, the people seemed enthusiastic to show us their unusual body art. During our chat we started talking music and I showed him the jewelry I was wearing in shape of a carar, an Ethiopian guitar. His eyes brightened and he grabbed my hand and as we walked he explained to me that he owned a carar and would like to play me a song. About 30 of us gathered around the tree stub just outside Muluken's apartment and he began to play his Amharic love song. As is typical in Ethiopian/Amharic music, his voice flucuated up and down the scale quickly with touches of an interesting vibrato. The melody had many minor notes and sounded a tad dark but soulful. Even though I could not understand the words, I felt the passion of the lover's heart in the music. When he finished, we responded with grateful applause. He then handed me the instrument and told me that he wanted me to have it to remember the Surma people and culture. I let him know that it would be difficult for me to haul it around for the rest of my journey but thanked him for such a generous offer. We conversed a little longer before he left for work and we said our goodbyes. As I walked further down into the village I noticed a couple of guys playing ping pong. As ping pong is one of my favorite sports I felt an urge to jump in the play. They graciously agreed for me to play the next match and so I dusted off the ol' ping pong skills and put them to shame. As we played, and I dominated the table (*wink*), a bunch of kids gathered round to watch and cheer for me. I knew I could spend hours playing, but wanted to be on my way exploring the rest of the village, so I handed my paddle to the next in line and went on my way. The town of Jibba itself was typical of a small one in Ethiopia. The dirt road is lined on both sides with metal makeshift shacks one next to another and each with it's own purpose - a home, a small, shop, a restaurant...I walked down the muddy road to where a large group of the villagers were gathered around a big tree that seemed to be in the middle of the town. I walked up to a couple of the Surma women who were adorned with all the tradition of their people. They were naked with purple robes that were draped on them like an ancient Roman robe. The top of their arms and breasts had tiny bumps in circular designs where there skin had been punctured with a hot needle. Their bottom lips had gaping holes from where a clay plate had once lived and the remaining lip skin hung and swung about like an old shoestring. Several of their bottom row front teeth were missing as well as casualties from the war with the growing clay plates for space in their mouths. Their ears held many earrings - some hoops, other beaded circles all up and down the outer portion, and the lobes had the same look as the lip with the hanging skin and gaping holes. Their faces were tattooed with different black tribal designs even more pronounced with their bald heads leaving the attention to be drawn to their faces. We both scanned each other's appearance inquisitively for several moments. One of the girls pointed jokingly to my breast and I knew what she was referring to. I responded, "I like to wear at least a couple of layers over them" and I received several giggles from the onlookers. I pointed to their tattooed faces and then showed them my colorful tattoo on my lower back, and then to their ears and showed them where I had holes from former multiple ear piercings and a belly button ring. They found the belly ring hole a shocker as it that is not a customary piercing area for the Surma...more giggles. Worlds apart, perhaps our practices weren't too far apart after all.

Chapter in a Jungle Book

We loaded up into the Toyota Landcruiser early in the morning ready to hit the open road. Each of us on this trip had different aims but one common goal, reaching some of the rarest and most beautiful lands in all of Africa. Thomas, our driver, was on another tourguide job, Immanuel and Wendyfro were government officials on agricultural and geological assignment and doubling as bodyguards/guides, Winnie was exploring the territory for another possible school project, and I was along for the ride. The beginning of our journey was scenic and smooth as road construction has vastly increased thanks to the recent Chinese infrastructure investment across the country. Getting out of the cities and into the countryside offered a glimpse into the true Ethiopia as over 90 percent of the 85 million (plus) residents live in the rural areas. The landscape is strikingly green laden with a plethora of different types of plants and vegetation ripe with the evidence of seasonal rains. Along the road, vendors offered up fresh fruits and we were sure to indulge - bananas, oranges, passionfruit, papayas, etc. The homes scattered throughout the countryside were the traditional circular mud huts with grass roofing. People labored along the roadside, some carrying goods atop their heads, others atop the donkeys they led. The children played mostly barefoot and some unclothed, yelling enthusiastically when they saw me wave out the window, "Farenge!" Farenge is the term given to light-skinned people in Ethiopia. Every once in awhile I would get a "China!" reflecting presence of Chinese infiltration/investment in the countryside. At one point along the way we hit a roadblock. A clan of monkeys were chilling out on the road and on both of its sides. Being my first monkey sighting of the trip, I naturally asked Thomas to stop immediately so that I could revel in the monkey-business while snapping photos. The astute creatures, hairy and human-like, pranced around aimlessly caring little for our presence in the road. I started throwing crackers out the window in an effort to engage them, and sure enough they took the bait drawing closer to the car. Now I had the whole car joining in the feeding and soon all of the monkeys were crowding around to partake. All of a sudden, a significantly larger-than-the rest apish monkey emerged and we all knew we had encountered the leader of the pack. The other monkeys sheepishly cowered in his presence, stepped away from the vehicle, and patiently awaited his next move. He stood there chest puffed out and staring us down with self-assured dominance almost as if to let us know who was boss. We found it fascinating watching the interplay. He let us snap some photos and then went to an elevated spot on the land where his lady joined next to him and they both stared steadfastly at us. All the rest of the clan stood frozen. Both path in the road and message of the monkeys were now clear. They wanted us to swing along to our next destination and leave them be. So we hit the road once again. We arrived at our 1st leg destination 8 long hours later and checked into our hotel in Jimma. It was pitch dark and we were all ready to hit the hay and catch some shut-eye so that we could be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for the remainder of the gorgeous journey to our second leg destination, Mizan. The next day there was more of the same breathtaking scenery, scrumptious fruits, and much more challenging road conditions, but alas, we made it in one piece frazzled but in awe of all our eyes had taken in. The following morning we awoke like kids in a candy shop (landscape eye candy that is) ready to take on the adventures of the day. We hopped in our Landcruiser and headed to the local police post to scoop up our armed guard that would be accompaning us around the Mizan countryside. Our armed guard was outfitted in a khaki colored ensemble complete with an Ethiopian ouzi in hand. Standard practice in the area for visitors, after getting permission from the local government to explore, was to be accompanied by one or several armed security police officers in case of a wild animal or guerilla fighter attack. Straight from an action/adventure film, eh? We headed out onto the open expanse and into the rainforest surrounding Mizan of Jaffa region. Loads and loads of green vegetation fresh with dew made up our backdrop. The fields around were ripe with coffee and tea plants. The Jaffa region is the region where coffee originated and the home to arguably the best coffee on the planet. The coffee plants are a beautiful forest green and they line the fertile red-brown soil with grandeur. The farmers in the fields are many and they pick the fresh beans from the plants in steadfast preciseness. When we reached a row of homes within the village surrounding,we stopped at one of them that seemed busy with life. Outside a mother holding a newborn baby; surrounding her were about 10 kids under the age of 10 and off to the side, the woman's husband, a coffee farmer, held a freshly picked bag of beans and discussed with a couple of other gentlemen in what looked to be a possible business transaction. When I walked onto the scene, the kids started pointing and yelling "Farenge". Following their acknowledgment were fascinated stares as they seemed to be hanging on my every word and move. They giggled as I spoke English to them and asked them get-to-know-you questions. Some understood and answered in English and others looked onward in curiosity. Winnie was engaging the mother in Amharic conversation asking about the area and the current state of education and health support. As I was leaning down conversing with the children, one of the girls, Baraket, grabbed a strand of my hair and started feeling and brushing it with her hands. All at once 5 others joined and before I knew it my hair was being pulled and felt in all different directions to the childrens' utter delight. The hair incident was followed by all of us creating a circle and singing an Amharic song while clapping and dancing together. We then said our goodbyes and prepared to continue on our journey. Baraket followed me close behind to the vehicle and then asked me in Amharic to take me with her. My heart sank, I kissed her on the cheek, and said a prayer that perhaps I would see her one day again. Further into the rainforest we treaded until we reached an opening where we came upon a waterfall. We climbed out of the car and spent the next half hour staring at the rushing waters and taking photos. What an amazing place Mizan is, what rich land the people live upon. I wanted to see more of this beautiful place and find out more about the peoples' lifestyle so we headed back into the main town area to grab some lunch to recharge our energy levels for a hike into the village in the hills. The hike began at the foot of the hills where a stream flowed peacefully and we found many swimming and others bathing. As we made our way to the beginning of the ascent a large group of uniformed school children joined us with books in hand. I began speaking with several of them and asked one young girl to show me her schoolbook. As I perused through the table of contents, I found topics like, "Ways to prevent HIV", "Prominent African Women", and "Roles of Men and Women." I flipped to the the 'Roles' chapter and found a short cartoon. In the first block, the question is asked, "Can girls play football (soccer)?" The answer is "Yes". The picture showed a girl kicking a soccerball. The next cartoon read, "Should boys help in the kitchen?" The answer is "Yes". The picture was of a boy stirring the pot over a stove. Amusing. I closed the book and trudged upward into the hills the kids surrounding. As we made our way to the top we greeted many outside their mudhuts along the way. The view from the top was another amazing one. We sat on a tree stump and I thought about the people who surrounded me and their simple way of natural life. Perhaps I can take a lesson from their book.

Cheetahs, and ostrich, and zebra, Oh my!

When most think of the continent of Africa, surely images of wild animals roaming the countryside come to mind. The safari is a treasured adventure drawing tourists from around the world to the continent. Having been on two of them in my travels to Africa - one outside of Johannesburg, South Africa, and another on the border of Uganda and DR Congo - I am well aware of the appeal. I had been spending most of my week in Djibouti poolside or inside partly because the country of less than 1 million did not offer much for exploration, and mostly because temperatures were well into the 100s. When the receptionist at my hotel informed me there was a small safari/park an hour outside of the city, I was more than ready to venture out into the wild albeit the scorching temps. The road out to the park from Djibouti city was less traveled and full of wide open spaces. I almost expected a tumbleweed to whisp across the road while old country western music faintly played in the background of this ghost country. The only scenery along the way was sadly trash piled in the street and the occasional herd of cows. When we got to the game park we were greeted by an upbeat French gentlemen who gave us a quick orientation and sent us on our way. The first stop was the cheetahs. The cheetahs, for good reason, were hanging out behind a fence. Two of them were large and majestic and paced back and forth around a small shed which I assumed was home to their feeding trough. I snapped some photos but spent only a few minutes, as I was ready to see the animals who were fence-free. About the time we were leaving the cheetahs, a small baby antelope roaming free began to approach. I bent down and in my best baby talk/antelope wooing voice asked the adorable little fury to come to me and let me pet it. Sure enough, I was able to pet it's soft fur and was delighted by it's willingness to interact. As we went on our way, our new furry friend followed close behind. Next on the scene were the East African black mud turtles. It was feeding time for the group and the park attendant had placed 3 large piles of greens and veggies on trays on the dirt for all to share. Watching the turtles eat was like a live version of a teenage mutant ninja turtles huddle up. They were all gathered around the tray in circles peacefully enjoying their meal. As the food began to disappear, tensions rose, and the turtles started pushing one another out of the circle with their large shells in an effort to have exclusive access to the grub. A few of the shelled creatures decided to leave their tray in search for more food on one of the other trays and it was quite entertaining to watch them try to force their way into the circle of feeders. Some were successful with their slow and steady approach and were able to have a hearty lunch. On down the dirt road we came upon an East African ostrich often called the Masai ostrich. It stood about 6 feet 3 inches tall with a long neck, pink beak, and a plethora of beautiful fluffy feathers making up it's flightless wings and coat. I petted it's wings a couple of times and it cocked it's beak my way. As we walked a little further along, the ostrich followed closely behind me. At first I was pleased by it's apparent affection for me, but then I began to get a bit annoyed and just a tiny bit scared as I do not claim to be an ostrich expert and therefore do not understand it's capabilities good or bad. I know I'm all for an ostrich burger, and was not completely certain that a Katy burger was out of the question for this gargantuan bird. I'm sure he sensed my fear and then pecked at me a couple of times. I shouted for the guide to get the ostrich away from me and he grabbed the bird and pushed it in another direction. The last and certainly not least wild animal we saw grazing in it's natural habitat was the zebra. I love their stripes and the wild nature of these African horses and could not wait to touch and snap photos with it. Luckily the zebra we came upon was thoroughly engaged in it's lunch of hay that was hanging from a tree. Otherwise, I'm not so sure I could have touched it or taken photos with it. While petting his striped body, he did express discontent and lifted his rear leg in a kicking motion. I knew my time was up. All in all, the Djibouti safari/park experience was a good starter as the first of I hope several safaris on my trip.

Freedom Fighters

It was September 11, 2010 - A day in America for somber remembrance of lives that were lost as a result of terrorism against humanity. I started the day in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia when my friend Andualem Arage picked me up in a cab to take me to the notorious Kaliti prison where he spent 18 months 5 years ago. It was New Years Day, 2003 in Ethiopia according to the Ethiopian calendar and Andualem wanted to support his party leader Birtukan Mideksa who is currently serving a life sentence in Kaliti. Andualem is the Secretary General of the UDJ (Unity for Democracy and Justice)and Birtukan Mideksa is the party leader and consequently the first African woman in history to lead a major opposition party in Africa. We arrived at Kiliti and stepped out of the cab at the gas station across the street from the entrance of the prison. I wanted to snap some photos and Andualem suggested we snap them from afar so that suspicions were kept at bay. This is the world Andualem and his party leaders live in. One where they are constantly looking over their shoulder in fear they are being followed or watched and constantly under government harassment. Most of the people of Ethiopia feel they have no true freedom under the oppressive rule of Prime Minister, Meles Zenawi, and the few who have the courage to fight for real democracy pay the price with their lives. A few minutes after our arrival Birtukan's mother, Almaz Gebregziabher and her 5 year old daughter Halley arrived by cab dressed up in the finest traditional Ethiopian dress to commemorate the New Year. Halley had a small drum with her so that she could play her mother a song. I greeted both of them with the customary three kisses on the cheek, introduced myself, and handed Almaz a small bottle of perfume to pass along to Birtukan, as only her immediate family is aloud to visit her despite the rights of the prisoner according to the Ethiopian constitution -- business as usual. We all walked over to a row of benches right outside the prison gate where several soldiers stood watch. We were joined by a small group of people waiting to visit their loved ones and awaiting their turn to be called by the guard to enter. As I sat in support, Andualem told me his stories of when he was imprisoned at Kaliti -- the horrible conditions, and his experience that drove him further into his desire to fight peacefully in hopes he would see the day of democracy in his beloved country. Immediately following the 2005 elections, Birtukan, Andualem, and 21 other members of their party were thrown into prison accused of trying to overthrow government order and were all sentenced to life in prison. The party believed along with most Ethiopians that the election results had been rigged. After 18 months of negotiations and pressure from the international community, the prisoners were released. Birtukan was delivering a speech in 2007 in Sweden about the unconstitutional way in which their release was handled. As a prominent and experienced judge, she knows the law well, and is well qualified to deliver such an opinion. Unfortunately, the hammer of injustice slammed down hard on her again and as a result of her comments, her life sentence was reinstated and she was thrown back into prison. Her party is committed to fighting for democracy on behalf of Ethiopia through peaceful struggle. In the words of Andualem Arage, "So long as we are not free, we have to fight. We have to have the courage not to kill, not to hate our brothers, but to fight for our rights. We need to organize the people and be committed to the point of death. They cannot kill everyone. When the people have the courage to fight for their freedom and are committed even to the point of death, that is when the democratic system here can start."

Rainbow to Ethiopia

This video was shot two years ago during my visit to Ethiopia. Today in the village of Derma Musa there is a new school, 2 new soccer fields, a well, a garden, a guesthouse for volunteers, and an auditorium being built. There is still much more work to be done but I love seeing a vision come to fruition!

A day in the slums

I have been somewhat involved with the work of RHCF, my friend Winni's NGO for the past 3 years. RHCF includes food, education, and health aid to roughly 150 impoverished children who live in the slums of Addis Ababa. I met some of these children two years ago in a classroom setting. This time, I was able to go to their homes to see there living conditions in hopes that I could bring some encouragement (and gifts) on their New Year's eve. Betty and I met with the administrator of the organization, Fasika, at the entrance to the village/slum to begin our visiting journey. The homes are made of sheet metal and each are about 100 square feet in size, lined up one next to one another. There is a rock pathway that takes you downhill through the village that offers the only outdoor space to the inhabitants. Our first stop was at the base of the village. As we climbed down the path, we were greeted by people sitting in their doorways or standing outside curiously watching our decent. In my travels to AFRICA I have always had the chance to see real poverty, but it never ceases to shock me. We walked into darkness in the first shack. Inside, the flame that heated a burner warming a pot of tea above, was the only source of light and warmth. An elderly man greeted us with a large toothless smile and motioned for us to sit on the makeshift couch (old ratty cushions on the ground and against the wall). We then introduced ourselves to each member of the family. Buton, who is the only current child sponsored by RHCF, 4 years old, her sister, Beza, 8 years old, their cousin Aster, 17 who is currently playing the mother role and their grandfather. Beza and Butons parents are passed away from AIDS and the grief was apparent by little Buton's somber face. I tried some smiles, tricks, tickles, and a Snickers bar to get a smile from her to no avail. As we spoke together partly in Amharic (Betty translating my English) we talked about their interests and hopes. I learned Beza did not currently have a sponsor so I decided that I would take that small monetary responsibility in hopes that it would make a lasting positive difference in her future. After 30 minutes or so, we exchanged hugs and kisses, took photos, and left to our next home. The next home was Salams'. She is 10 years old, has aspirations to be a doctor someday, and lives with her grandmother and sick uncle as her parents have passed away from AIDS. This was another heartwrenching visit as I learned her uncle has been sick and bedridden for 18 months with week lungs. He has had limited access to good food and nutrition and medicine, and the little he has received has been as a result of the village members pitching in small amounts. In America, with his condition, he might likely be back to health after a few weeks of rest and antibiotics. Here in Ethiopia his condition meant months of suffering, bed rest, and monetary loss for his family as he is normally the primary breadwinner. We visited three more families all that had been touched by AIDS through their current condition or through the loss of a close relative. The day in the slums gravely reminded me of the vast need of this place and made me so thankful once again that I somehow won the genetic lottery by being born in America. I never want to forget these people and their plight as they serve as a reminder to stay committed to giving back in any small way as I have been blessed with so much.

A day in Ethiopia

I woke up in GetNet Guesthouse to the sound of roosters crowing and the bright sun shining through a small window onto my bed. One day before I arrived via Ethiopian Airlines from Cairo to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, the capital of the country. I woke up refreshed from a long night of sleep and stoked to be back in a familiar and cherished country of mine. I rolled out of bed, threw on my kicks and running gear, and headed out into the village for a morning jog. I have been slacking in my runs and I figured there is no better place to prepare my lungs for a Kiliminjaro climb than the altitudes of Ethiopia that have produced many world class distance runners to boot. As I jogged along the red mud roads, I was greeted with bright smiles and "Hahlos". About halfway through the run, some kids caught my attention and I stopped for a break. We each introduced ourselves and exchanged handshakes and high fives. The kids giggled with delight as I spoke some broken Amharic (the official language of Ethiopia) and they tested out their broken English on me. One boy had a contraption that made the sound of a firecracker when he snapped it against a brick wall nearby, and he was tickled pink to watch me laugh as he popped it again for a reaction. Shortly after our exchange some young men walked up and inquired about my visit to their country. To their appreciation, I told them that I had been to their county two years prior and was glad to be back to visit a place that I loved. They assured me that if I needed any help at all, I could find them around the village and they would be more than happy to assist me as they love America. We all said our goodbyes and I was back on my run. When I got back to the hotel my appetite was worked up and I was more than ready to indulge in some traditional Ethiopian food so I grabbed my bag and headed for the main road five blocks away. I walked into a small restaurant with four tables inside, two outside, a few women working behind the counter, and an Obama calendar on the wall. As I was eating my meal in peace, a couple of young boys walked in the cafe and sat down at the table next to me. One of them eagerly asked, "Where are you from? Do you speak English?". I replied, "I am from America". A huge grin landed across his face and he enthusiastically replied, "I love American and Snoop Dog! Please, come visit my shop down the road. I have many traditional dresses and perhaps I can give you a gift!" His instant generosity warmed my heart and reminded me of the Africa I know. We spoke a few more minutes and I realized I needed to get back to my hotel as I was expecting someone to pick me up. That someone was Jambo, the nephew of my dear Ethiopian friend from Los Angeles, Winni. Jambo was planning to pick me up to be my host during my stay. I was pleased to meet a smiling face and a family member of the Shiferaws, many of whom I have met in previous years and have had the chance of knowing and loving. Jambo was with the family chaffeur Mashrusha who I knew from my previous visit and we exchanged a warm hug and were then on our way to Gourmet Cafe, the Shiferaw's restaurant in Addis. When we arrived at the cafe, I was greeted by none other than Fikru, Winni's brother who I also knew from LA. I sat down at the round table outside, ordered a Macchiato (for which the Italians and Ethiopians are famous), and began to catch up with Fikru. The cafe is a post for all types of people -- Africans and Westerners, businessesmen and women and humanitarians. Travlers and natives. The decor is charming and the food is top notch. As I looked around the cafe, I was energized by the diverse exchanges taking place all around me. I sighed with satisfaction. Fikru and I discussed my desire to see the National Museum and the University of Addis museum and he agreed to accompany me. So Mushrasha, Jambo, Fikru, and I went on our way to take in some Ethiopian history. The national museum is small and a bit run down but it was a great welcome to the country. The exhibits included the history of culture, politics, and science. What I found most interesting was the display of fossils. The Homo Sapien Idaltu was discovered in 1997 and is 160,000 year old. The discovery of the fossil skull, according to scientists, made huge breakthroughs in the understanding of the history of mankind. The brain of this specimen was more advanced than previous specimens and close to the development of the modern homo sapien. This along with another display took the visitor along the timeline of the archeological findings of significant ancient human fossils most of which were discovered in Ethiopia and dating back up to 10 million years. Food for thought. I made my way through the museum's displays, purchased a book on Ethiopian philosophy, and we headed on our way to the University of Addis Museum. This museum is in the heart of the campus and is the former home of King Haile Selassie, the last reigning monarch of Ethiopia. This museum focuses largely on cultural customs, religions and art. There are 83 tribes and languages so with that comes quite a diversity in customs and religious practices. At the end of the brain dump, we ended up in the former King and Queen's bedroom which were consequently separate. The Queen's room was approximately 500 square feet with pink, white and gold walls, and white carpet with pink flowers. On display were several of her ornate costumes and dresses. The King's bedroom was much smaller at about 250 square feet. On display was his bed, with a lion wearing a crown on the headboard, his photo on the wall, and the famous painting of Jesus praying at the garden of Gethsemene. After a long afternoon of information gathering we were all ready for a meal and headed back to Gourmet Corner Cafe for some dinner. This time walking into the restaurant, I was greeted by Bzork, Winni's sister and we exhanged 3 kisses on the cheek as is custom. We talked for some time and then Betty walked in. Betty is a young woman who previously worked with RHCF, the organization I came with before. Betty used to teach the kids every Saturday and was still involved in a small way. I was happy to hear that she would be able to accompany to see the kids of RHCF during my stay. Betty like alot of Ethiopians has beautiful bone structure and facial features, clear skin, and looks at least 10 years younger than her age. It was good to hear about Betty's life and to see yet another familiar face. The day had whipped by and evening fell upon us. We were all ready to sleep so we went on the way to the place I stayed prior in the Shiferaw family home in Debra Zeit, a town about 45 minutes north of Addis. The home is beautiful and peaceful. When you enter the gates that open up in front of the dirt road, you are greeted with a beautiful flower garden and several welcoming barking dogs. The living room and dining room is decorated with fine art, china, and gorgeous furniture, a true blessing to be staying here on my visit. That night and all nights the maids serve us Ethiopian tea, injera (the native bread) and shuro (sauce) to cap off the day. After a full stomach and happy heart I made my way to the guest bedroom for a long and restful night of sleep.

Alexandria the great

Traffic is always unpredictable in Cairo given the 25-30 million people who inhabit it and so I arrived at the train station literally 20 seconds too late. After running into the station from the road, I watched as my Alexandria bound train headed off into the distance. After talking with the train customer service in broken English and realizing the next train would not get me to my destination until evening, I decided to hire a driver and make the trip by car. The drive North took longer than hoped and I arrived in Alexandria just after 2pm and headed straight to the Library. At the entrance, the security guard informed me that the library closed at 2pm during Ramadan and would not open back up until 10am the next morning - just my luck today. Feeling strike two, I headed a few blocks straight for the beach, in this case, the Mediterranean Sea for some solace. Looking out onto the coast of the sea took me back to California in my mind. I took in some fresh air and strolled along the coastline taking in the scenery. Feeling zen once again, I hailed a taxi and went on a mini tour of the town. Along the way, I took photos and spoke in the few Arabic words and phrases I knew, and he spoke to me like Arabic was my native tongue - ah, frustration. The tour ended at the Four Seasons and I could not have been happier to meet an American who was the manager at the spa. Anne, originally from New Hampshire, had been living in Alexandria for the past year and shared with me her observations and experiences as an expat in Egypt. When she first arrived, she felt like an alien and had a judgmental eye towards the culture and religion and in particular, the woman's role. But after observing and living among the people she now has a new found respect and appreciation for Egyptian ways and sees that the men regard their women as sacred creatures who they cannot live without...in her opinion. It has been interesting to see the dominance of men in the public here in Egypt. It was rare for me to see a woman working in the storefront or at a restaurant or in any other day job for that matter. Most women stay at home with the children and allow the men to take care of monetary responsibilities. When questioning the Egyptian woman about the head to toe dressing, they seemed totally comfortable with the custom and eager to please their men who encourage the dress in an effort keep other men from looking at or desiring their women. Culturally ingrained Egyptian men seem to have a self-proclaimed jealous and possessive nature but at the same time, in accordance to the Muslim religion, a desire to be the best husband they can be in nurture and care of their wives; A different kind of respect for women than the American way. After the tour I headed one of the cafe's there at the hotel, Fresca for a relaxing dinner overlooking the peaceful Mediterranean. I ordered a panini and once again indulged myself with Turkish coffee while overlooking the sunset through the palm trees.

The Pyramids: Ancient Wonder, Archeological Mystery

The wisest of scholars and most experienced of archeologists continue to remain baffled by the Ancient Egyptian pyramids. From the first, built in 2750 B.C. to the largest, built in 2560 B.C. the precision and craftmanship involved in constructing these ancient wonders was beyond even the technological advances we have at our fingertips today. When considering the largest pyramid Khufu, with 2.5 million limestone blocks weighing an average of 2 tons and rising 42 stories high, the construction just does not seem to work out logistically or practically. Many theories exist including they were built by extra terrestrials, but regardless they stand as a true work of art and man's innate desire to create and in this case, create something grand. The pyramids were built in the efforts of the Pharoahs to assist in their immortality and as a passageway to the gods they believed they would rule and reign with in the heavens.

I chose to see these mystic structures by camel course so I hired my guide, Ahmed and he chose his camel Moses to lead us around the pyramids. As we sauntered around each structure, I was completely awestruck by their magnitude. Trying to picture 5,000 years ago, men hoisting blocks weighing two tons was truly a stretch of my imagination. It is no wonder that these are the last standing of The Seven Ancient Wonders of the World. There is a proverb that says "Man fears time, but time fears the pyramids". In primitive times, mankind was able to design and build these masterpieces that have stood the test of time. Incredible. Being at the site of the pyramids and looking upon them was to look upon greatness and mystery.