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.