Monday, Nov. 19th,
The last few days have been a little difficult. I am frustrated by my inability to communicate effectively, and am also troubled by the fact that almost everyone I have met has asked me for money- and sometimes a rather significant amount.
The stories are sad, but you can’t help everyone and also we have our own debt to consider. Perhaps it’s a cultural thing, that it’s ok to ask for help and for money from friends or people you know. And, maybe it’s because of my own cultural baggage that it’s so off-putting to be approached in that way for that reason- pull yourself up by the bootstraps, don’t rely on help, and certainly don’t ask for handouts.
But I also think that people here see us and think “money.” Often times, just walking down the street, people will call “money, money” “give me money” “give me a pen” “give me _____,” often accompanied by “faranji, faranji, faranji!” at first this wasn’t so much of a problem but it has started to become quite off putting. It’s not that we’re dressing richly- t-shirts and casual pants, and often I have been wearing the local head covering/shawl, which seems to earn me slightly better treatment. I just think that, with television and perhaps also the legacy of US AID in Ethiopia (it’s a common sight to see a building with a US AID sign, or bags of food at the market labeled likewise (also it reads ‘not for resale’ but this is in English and not in Tigrinya, and it gets sold. There are often US AID tins that have been made into decorative items, or into coffee containers or other types of kitchen ware for sale in the market.
On the one hand, this aid has certainly helped a lot of people and as a result Ethiopians generally love the United States. They generally have only positive things to say about our country and I believe they deeply appreciate the aid. On the other hand, they also associate westerners with AID, and just assume that we have plenty of money, more than we could possibly use, and so it wouldn’t be a problem to ask.
I can understand this, because they see us and the fact that we bought plane tickets to be here, that we’re staying in a hotel (one that is infested with rats and has sporadic water availability, dingy, stained carpet, is sorely worn with holes, mildew, but is still a far cry better that the living situation of those living around the hotel in dirt floor shacks with metal roofs and no toilets). And, I understand that many of these people are paid one, maybe two dollars a day (or less), and that any point I have in my pocket the equivalent of an entire month’s pay (or more).
The guard from our hotel is a person who is paid about a dollar a day, and he sits in front of our stairwell, taking his work very seriously, and giving us a gap-toothed smile that stretches across the entire plane of his weather worn face.
We are rich. We turn our water faucets on and water streams out, in such a quantity that it never occurs to most Americans to wonder where such a miracle comes from, or what they would do without such incredible luxury.
I think that living in a hotel is also a barrier in some respects to my research. My relationship with Tamrat is a bit strained after not being able to buy him clothes.
Part of the problem is that in Ethiopia there are no ATMs, nor, outside of Addis Ababa, is there a way to get a cash advance on a credit card (and in the capital they charge a steep minimum fee on top of a 6% commission). So when you travel here, you have to budget in advance and simply take your cash with you, in some combination of dollars and traveller’s checks. The point is that even if I did want to buy Tamrat a new wardrobe (and I’m not entirely sure that I would…its hard to think about buying new clothes for someone who already has decent clothing when there are so many that have more holes in their shirts than threads) I don’t have the available cash to do it if I want to eat and pay my hotel bill.
Perhaps if I somehow had a different living situation, perhaps renting a house like the Italian NGO people or the Doctors of the World guy, it wouldn’t be as much as a problem.
Then last night, a medical student who we have gotten to be friends with, and have bought dinner for several times, asked each of the medical students individually if they would sponser him for $100/month for three so he can finish school (right now, he is supporting his family (his grandmother is paralyzed on her right side from a stroke, a common problem here). He is working as a nurse for a few months until he has enough money to go to school for a while, a process that will take him a decade instead of three years.
They don’t see or understand that we are all in so much debt ourselves- med school and grad school isn’t cheap!- one day that will be different, but right now we just can’t do that.
The other thing is just that there are so many sad stories. It’s difficult to know how to best help. I think, like Dr. Carl, we had some naïve ideas about coming to Africa “to help.” That somehow, just by wanting to, just by being here, you can make a difference. I still think that being a doctor or a teacher here can do a lot of good
topics for later:
Eating lunch with Kibrom at his home.
Single room- eating, sleeping, talking
His time in an Eritrean prison

November 18th
For the past two nights we have been dealing with rats. Sightings have been numerous and frequent- and I have located the entry way to their layer, which I suspect is widespread and expansive. I have seen black ones, gray ones, and white ones, and they are not small.
To save money we have a little stock pile of bread, peanut butter (not exactly JIF) and other little things to eat. With a live and let live attitude, we attempted an improvised bear-bagging system (in Africa backpacking skills come in handy even in hotel rooms) but inevitably there are crumbs lying around, which makes for an awful lot of scurrying during the night.
Last night I could not sleep because of the constant scratching and scurrying noises emanating from underneath the bed (which is actually only slightly above the ground itself). Apparently our system failed miserably, because upon further inspection, the rats had somehow (I still don’t understand how) retrieved crackers from somewhere, which were then pulled underneath the bed and stockpiled in the very center. There is ring of rat excrement surrounding the prize.
So, we drew a very artistic likeness of a pointy nosed creature with a scaly tale, and took it to the reception. I caved, despite J's assertion that should "live and let live. I packed my things up and asked for a different room. Now we are two doors down, but at least there isn’t a hole providing direct access to our room and crumbs, and I was finally able to get some sleep.
Also, J thinks I might have giardia. I’ll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that when an informant offers to take you to a tej beat (honey wine bar described in a previous note) to talk about Ethiopian culture, just say no. The tej we had left over that was poured into a plastic water bottle is expanding daily, which confirms the idea that we had that it is chock full of active yeast culture, and so our natural flora is, er, adjusting.
Sunday morning looking over the balcony of my hotel room (the new one two doors down) I stood in the sun, trying to warm up, and realized that what I thought was a storage shed for the hotel is actually someone’s home.
There was a metal shack with a US AID tarp for a front door, and someone came by and “knocked” then reached behind the tarp to shake someone awake. He rolled over, pushed the tarp aside, and rubbed his eyes. He reached over and put on his shoes and then, wearing the same clothing he had slept in, got up and left for wherever his life is taking him today.
Then I realized that actually, a whole family lives there, and I watched a girl with pink rubber shoes use a cement block to boost herself into a little crawl space.

Tej Beat- whole new world
Talking with Kibron, we asked about the local honey wine they call tej, and Kibron promptly offered to escort us to a local beat (bar). Mostly our time in Mekelle has been spent more or less on main, wide roads, mostly because of navigational issues, but also because most churches, hospitals, and generally the types of places we go to have been on main roads.
Kibron led us through alleyways just beyond the main road, and we entered a different world entirely. The center of the path was full of large rocks, making a crude irrigation system. The smell was strong- most people simply place their garbage and waste in the street (it is washed away during the rainy season). There were impromptu business, mostly fix-it shops or vendors of assorted goods or foods, and it seems like these often double as homes for the owners. Other little holes in the corrugated metal walls were peoples homes, the front door a hinged piece of scrap metal swinging in the Mekelle wind.
The looks on most people’s faces were of surprise- it isn’t very often they see a white face come down their street. For the most part, though, we received smiles, and the tone of “faranji” was more of curiosity than the harassing/accusing tone sometimes heard on the main streets.
We walked into the tej beat, which had no sign to speak of, just another metal box lining the street. Inside was packed from wall to wall on long, picnic style tables. Many of the men were older, and holding canes, ____ (white wrap….find the name in the journal…) flung across their shoulders.
The flasks containing the tej were large large and globular on the bottom, and narrow to a long, cylindrical neck at the top. Tej is the only thing available for purchase in the beat- those seeking food or a beer need not enter.
Waitresses, the only women in the joint, wear crosses and walk from man to man, filling flaskes with the thick amber liquid. Bees fly around overhead, looking for their share of the sweet stuff.
I felt odd being the only female patron, and doubly self conscious because of my skin, and not without reason. Every head was turned towards me.
Once Kibron had a taste of the tej he had to drink two more (he later said three is too much but four is enough), and over the course of an hour and a half we discussed Ethiopian culture over sips of fermented honey.
He invited us to his home on Monday to see how he lives, something I am very much looking forward to.
It made me nervous to see the procedure for cleaning the flasks- the waitress scoops up empty glasses then cursorily dumps water (where it comes from, I have no idea) in and then out again, and fills it with tej for the next customer.
Climbing up the mountain to the church
Today we went back to the orphanage, where Connie had prepared a feast for us of tuna fish canned in water and toast.
It was wonderful to have crunchy warm bread and a nice lean protein for a change. This was actually very sacrificial of Connie, who explained that typically you can only find tuna canned in oil here, but every once in a blue moon you can find it canned in water.
After lunch she assigned one of their workers (the older orphans under employ for the orphanage) to take us up the nearby mountain to see a couple of Orthodox churches.
It was wonderful to stretch our legs (Ethiopians are very conservative in dress and although Ethiopia is famous for its runners I have not seen anyone jogging, and certainly haven’t seen any women wearing shorts. Therefore my only form of exercise has been a little yoga and walking around Mekelle, so going hiking was absolutely wonderful).
When we reached the church, I was a little disappointed that there were no priests around that we could find (I was hoping to find some of them and perhaps learn a little of the history behind the churches and take photographs inside- the light was really hot (2PM) when we got there, so the pictures of the hilltop churches aren’t that great.
However that little disappointment was easily compensated for by the amazing view. Perched up on the little summit we could see Mekelle in its entirety.
Game etched into the big stone
Kindness of the young men who were our guides

November 14th, (4th of the month in the Ethiopian Calendar)
Every seven days in Axum, the town gathers around the sycamore tree by the ___ church (the church of the four beasts, which are cow, man, bird, and lamb) for the candle ceremony, to ask for a good harvest and give thanks.
At 4:30 AM we left the Africa hotel

November 12
Sometimes it is difficult , I want to write but I’ll just stare at this screen and I don’t know what to say.
Ethiopian greetings: When two people know each other in Ethiopia, usually they greet each other with big smiles, a warm embrace, and then at least three kisses (kisses in the air next to the cheek), alternating from cheek to cheek.
Sometimes a person takes another’s into both of his/her hands, and accompanied by a slight bow. Other times a person draws another closer and reach with the left hand behind the back and across to the right shoulder.
Greetings are often accompanied by “sister” or “brother”, “my sister”
There are over 120 rock hewn churches in this area, only about 35 of which are frequented by tourists, and these only rarely. Many of them are thousands of years old, and each has a priest who holds the key to a church. Sometimes it is difficult to locate a priest, as he might be working out in the fields, or may be at market.
Many are located in remote mountainous areas (many churches are completely monolithic, while others are semi-monolithic, the point being they are carved directly into the stone itself, which translates arduous climbs to even reach some of the churches. Of course, a guide is needed to do this type of thing. I’m not sure how much it would cost.
Churches Fisseha recommended that I see:
St. Mary of Tsion: there is an old one, and a new one. The old one is rectangular in shape and a good example of traditional architecture. It was build by Emperor Fasiladas (founder of Gondor) in 1665.
There is a chapel here in which many Ethiopians passionately believe holds the Ark of the Covenant. Women are not allowed inside.
There is also a new St. Mary of Tsion church which was built by the Emperor Haile Selassie, and would not be considered traditional architecture.
I’m told that with a guide it is possible to see 3 churches in a day (of the rock-hewn variety).
Abba Garima Unfortunately, women are not allowed inside. It was founded by one of the nine saints in the sixth century, and known for its collection of religious artefacts including Ethiopia’s oldest manuscript (dating to the 8th century).
The other churches I have not yet been able to find any information on, but their names are 1.2 Debre benkol
1.3 Debre abay

Fisseha told me he would be by today “this morning” but it is now 10:00 AM and I have yet to see him. I suppose I’ll go give him a call now.
What would be a really awesome project would be to get a grant to write an English book about the rock hewn churches.
I would love to do this type of study but it would require at the minimum having a translator (or spending at least a year learning Tigrinya) and a vehicle to drive around quite frequently, which could get to be quite expensive. I would love to go see more rock hewn churches and spend more time at them but unfortunately I just don’t have the cash.
Here I also think an expense is paying people for their time for interviews. People are so poor here I think it’s the right thing to do to compensate people for their time.
Why do beggars stay by churches? Is it because they think that is the most likely place to be given a few birr, or because they know they will at least be fed there? Or do they feel like being close to god is the only thing that makes continuing to live bearable?
There was one beggar in particular that I saw outside of the rock hewn church, sitting on the cool dirt, back slouched unconcernedly against the stone wall of the church,knees drawn to stomach, his chocolate brown bald head cast downward nearly to his tucked in tired legs (in prayer? In desperation?) shoulders and body shrouded in ratty, coffee with cream colored shawl. Human camouflage against the light tan stone. Forgotten.
Yet even this man, when it was time rose and lifted his hands toward heaven, and when he was done knelt and kissed the holy ground of the church.

Taking Photographs in places of worship:
I didn’t anticipate feeling badly or guilty about photographing people worshipping. I feel like I am stealing something, like the moments are too fluid and important to be stopped in time- but I want to show other people what worship is like for other people, I want to see for myself, and to remember.
Although I had permission, people were still curious and craned their covered heads to peer at me from behind their shawls- I felt like I was distracting them from their connection with God.
Is it worth it?
Silence in the Churches:
In other churches in the Anglo traditions, and I’ve been to several of them, there is more than just the preacher doing talking. There are distracted children writing notes to one other, chewing bubble gum, checking the second hand on their watches until the obligatory hour is done with.
Not so in the rock hewn churches of Tigray.
Church isn’t a once a week social obligation. There are certain days which are more important than others- the main service is held on Sunday, and there are special saint days which always draw more people and prayers.
But, there are services everyday, in the morning and evening. Throughout the week, large groups of people come to pray, or to be counseled, or to worship.
Often the services are come and go- people will come, bown, kneel, pray, chant- and when they are done, they leave. In fact several people opt not to go into the church at all, sometimes because they feel that their actions over the previous days (or weeks) have made them unworthy to do so.
Or, maybe it’s because no one is looking at you. People might notice if you’re standing next to them, but there are so many people, and services are generally crowded, and every one is clad in the same white head coverings (differing only in the hem of the garmet, which sometimes posess elaborate designs). No one is completing a roll card.
Everyone is utterly silent except for the priest, unless it is time to chant, in which case the entire congregation lifts their voices heavenward.
This learning process begins very early, while practitioners of the Orthodox faith are quite young. During the week, after the 5 o’clock service (at least this is the case with Tekla Haimonut church) are taken to a separate area of the church in which there is a singing teacher who demonstrates the various chants. The two main ones I have observed are St. Yared’s chant and a Thank You chant. I have not been able to find someone who is able to translate these songs for me yet.
Frustrations! I called Fisseha, who is supposed to come by and talk to me about the church today, at 10:30 (he very generally told me yesterday that we would talk tomorrow morning, which is today, damn it!) and he said that basically he would see me this afternoon. So all freaking day I have been waiting for this contact (because in the past I have missed him because I wasn’t in my hotel room and because he is the director of Tourism, speaks excellent English, and is potentially my most important contact, especially in terms of future possible research! So I have to be here when he comes, only now it is 3:30 and STILL he has not shown up and I’m just wasting away the day in the hotel room debating whether or not I should call him again (I don’t want to irritate him) and dwelling over how many churches I could have photographed this morning (one of only a short few here in Axum!!) IF HE HAD ONLY TOLD ME AFTERNOON INSTEAD OF MORNING< Y E S T E R D AY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I suppose I did edit photographs and work on some writing, and read a bit about the history of Axum, but the day still seems lost to me. I know the medical students encounter similar occurrences working at the hospital. The whole attitude seems to be, don’t worry, it’ll happen. Like the foundation that was built for a new school room but hasn’t the money for additional building materials (or teachers for that matter) or the hospital that was built 10 years ago and is just sitting there, wasting away, unused, becoming dirty and dishelveled from a decade of neglect. Maybe it’s an attitude of faith that more funding will come along? Is this in anyway linked to religious beliefs? I don’t know.

November 11th,
Axum is a holy city, full of stelea and obelisks inscribed with thanks to God in three different languages. Today was spent visiting the stelae fields. We also went by the St. Mary of Zion church, which is the location of a holy pilgrimage to take place shortly after I must leave to the states. Sisay said that the whole fields are crowded with pilgrims, camping and sleeping amongst the tombs, waiting for the day.
It costs 60 birr to go in, and I am debating whether or not I should pay it. I probably should, and might do so tomorrow , depending on what Fisseha has planned or how much time he has to talk with me.
It’s quite frustrating to not be able to speak the language. I’m just relieved that I finally have a few good pictures to show for my efforts.
Fisseha came by our hotel today and I am going to meet him tomorrow morning to talk some about the churches here. I specifically would like to know more about the church structure.
There are so many children here working….selling Kleenex “soft soft soft soft” I don’t know what to do to change it, to make it better.

Demographics: I have mostly observed slightly more females than males at church services, although the clergy is made up entirely of females.
They seem to be the poorer spectrum of society- there aren’t a lot of suits at services, and there are always beggars present- crippled or blind (usually from a treatable bacterial infection).
Physical actions- sometimes during the chanting members of the congregation bow, but there are varying degrees of bowing- some are merely an exaggerated nod, while other times people are bent over at the waste. I do not know what precipitates what degree of bowing.
There is a section of the chanting that is marked by a slow forward descent to the ground, knees tucked under the stomach. The upper body is lowered gradually until the forehead touches the ground, and sometimes the ground is kissed first.
When priests are seen walking down the street, it is common for a person to walk up and touch their forehead to the cross, and then kiss the cross.
When entering the Tekla Haimonut church, the wall is kissed three times (reinforcing the trinity) and then the sign of the cross is made.
Concluding the prayer you take one hand in your other and touch each of the three sections of your finger (marked by knuckle creases) and repeat ‘father, son, holy spirit’ each time, and then repeat the process saying ‘st. mary, st. mary…..’
I’m not sure if I can videotape a service or not. I’ll have to talk to Tamrat when I get back to mekelle.
How does tourism, trade, population patters affect church services, music?
What are they saying??
What symbols? Does the chanting, the circular, continuous nature of the chanting, help people enter a meditative state that helps them detach from normal, everyday state of consciousness to an elevated one that helps them communicate with God, or helps them feel they are communicating with God, or are in a suspended state between earth and God?

Saint Yared- Ethiopia’s patron saint of music- often in the murals, shown holding a sistra, drums or prayer sticks. St. Yared’s chant at Tekla Haimonut- is this the same everywhere?

Nov. 10th
We approached a rock hewn church A.A. outside the town of woxu, barreling up a red dirt road in a van, three smooshed into the back, knees knocking, backpacks stuffed whevever a part of the human anatomy wouln’t have fit normally.
The church itself is situated up a staircase made of thick slate steps so wide that you need to take a few steps before you even reach the next one, so steep each stair required a greater than normal effort.
After winding around the thick side of the hill we saw the church , which by itself is not so impressive- it doesn’t strike one as a grand achievement of architecture with elaborate carvings in stone, not so tall you have to arch you neck back to see the spires. Instead it is smaller, a red soft cube protruding from the stone of the mountain behind it.
There were great rock archways fitted with ancient wooden doors, and seemed to me that there were tinges of blue in the wood. Tucked in between the door itself and the archway was a beggar, who pointed to a sore on his leg then reached up to us with a cupped hand.
A priest stood at the entrance, clad in long, ankle length white flowing cloth, just meeting his bare feet, and calloused toes. He had rivers of wrinkles in his face miles deep, and hard eyes, and a graying beard. He did not seem overly excited about a group of faranjes (foreigners) visiting his church, and impromptively decided on an admission fee of 50 birr, a ridiculous sum , especially since people were entering and leaving freely, without charge.
We decided to have just one person go in (which actually turned out to be a good idea, because the inside was quite small, and six foreigners would have greatly altered the mood and would have just been generally crowded.
Because my project deals with the churches, I was the one to go in. I took a tentative step towards the entrance when the priest snapped incredibly loudly while lowering himself to my shoes- I had almost forgotten to take them off before entering holy ground!
I untied my tennis shoes and left them standing in a deep pile of red dust, which surrounds the exterior of the rock hewn church.
Gingerly, quietly, I entered the thousand year old church, immediately engulfed in chant and surrounded by a completely different environment. Colorful rugs lined the floor, so many that they overlapped each other, woven from a straw-like material into geometric, diamond designs similar to those found on the hems of the head wraps. There were a few pillars inside, all hewn from the same rock. The walls were painted brightly with biblical scenes, one wall with black, white, and brown, the back with all types of colors.
Like in other orthodox churches, at the front of the church there is a section closed off by a curtain, inaccessible to anyone but the priests. Although I have asked what is behind the curtain, the reply remains”no one is allowed back there”
I was standing in the center of the church, trying desperately to find the balance of respect, unobtrusiveness, and the responsibility to record what was happening. In between the curtain and myself there was a priest chanting and holding a cup full of heady incense attached to 3 golden chains, which he swung back and forth. To my left there was another priest who alternated with the chanting priest by swinging a thick metal bell slowly, ra-ring, ra-ring, several times back and forth.
Behind me, in the back section of the church, were several drums similar to the ones I have seen in the bigger churches, tied with goat hair, with skin membranes. The sides of these drums had been decorated with beautiful green and white patterns.
Three more priests were seated behind the drums and also behind a stand which was holding a rather thick book, presumably a bible. When the chanting and bell ringing were done, one of the priests began to read from the book, and I was struck by the beauty of the rhythm he used while speaking, almost as if he was singing without a melody. His voice reverberated off of the hollow walls, bouncing back sound waves of scripture off into everyone’s ears.
The congregation was come and go, but always the interior of the church was crowded, this time full mostly of women.
Also like in the bigger church, there were special times during the chanting in which everyone knew to kneel, and touch their foreheads to the dirt, hands outstretched in front. Some kissed the dirt.
I was able to ask the priest a few questions with the help of a translator, but the exchange was difficult and I’m not sure I learned much. I do think I got some good photographs (finally, thank goodness) and also was able to film a little bit, and of course I recorded the whole thing.
It really would help if I could speak Tigrinya. Not only would it help in getting answers to my questions, but it would earn me instant credibility and elevate my status beyond simply another faranje. Sort of the same principle with the wearing traditional dress.
The surrounding community was very poor, even more poor than in Mekelle. None of the children had shoes. When they saw us, at first they were shy, staring, a few whispering “feranji, feranji!” (I should point out that feranji isn’t necessarily a derogatory term, it just means foreigner, which means anyone with a different color skin.
Eventually though their curiosity overpowered their initial shyness and they walked up to us, and these children, unlike those in Mekelle, did not ask for money- instead they asked for pens. One in particular was asking me. He was dressed in a ratty green cotton sweatshirt, covered with dirt and full of holes, and pants in the same condition. I reached into my bag to get my extra mechanical pencil and the little boy’s eyes lit up and scurried away with his newfound treasure.
Two girls caught on and brought us hand fulls of fossils they had found which they proceeded to sell for one birr each. I bought them, and also gave them stickers.
After we visited the church it was time to take a tour of other hospitals in the area, which was a wonderful experience for the medical students, and it let them really get a better idea what the health care system is really made of in Ethiopia.
First we went to a smallish health post in Woxu.

Nov. 7 and 8
On the 7th Tamrat came over again and we talked some more about the Orthodox church. Then I went with him to Tekla haimonut to observe a children’s class seeing a “Thank You Song”
Laptop stopped functioning properly and so for today the ethnographic record is mostly field recording and paper notes.
Nov. 8th
J&J performed vascular surgery on my laptop by cutting a section out, splicing the silver and copper wires separately, then taping each with electrical tape. Laptop seems to be functioning again (for the time being!)
At 5 PM went to the Bible Society Building to see some other traditional instruments. Gebre is recording the New Testament onto CD for people who aren’t able to read the bible. Spent a few hours here. Most of it was discussing the project and this was done in Tigrinya.
I did see how Ethiopian music relies on the pentatonic scale. There were a few handmade flutes made from bamboo and another stringed instrument looking like a cross between a harp and a guitar.
There was also an electric keyboard which was brought, a yahmaha from America that had to be used with a power converter. The musician selected a flute sound and played the melodies to the prayer chanting using the C pentatonic scale. There was generally a fast turn on C-D-C and then back down the scale (cdc a g f)
I also learned that most of the chanting is word for word from the bible, just set to a melody. The drum is used to mark the beat.
For dinner (8:45) we went to Geeza Galarsey were there was traditional dancing and a popular style of music.
The female dancers wore long white dresses with the hems lined in colorful (red, yellow, black, green) geometric patterns. They also wore layers of big beaded necklaces, which became a percussion instrument when they jumped and shook their necks to the side.
A big component of this type of dancing is jumping in time and also moving shoulders to the back and the front. There is much more upper body dancing (not necessarily arms, but upper body) than in any other type of dance I have seen. The dancers don’t really use their hands or fingers in any type of intricate gesture, but instead move their shoulders back and forth quite quickly, further subdividing the beat.
The males changed dress for many of the different dance numbers, but one outfit they wore several times was a silk white shirt and pants. Quite simple.
The clothes are oversized and flowing, and patterned scarves are also used frequently as extensions of the arms, and because the clothing flows so well it looks quite beautiful.
One song in particular was about how in Tigray there are 5 ethnicities. This song told the story of how a man had fallen in love with a girl from a different ethnicity, but his parents would not allow him to marry her. He talked about the pain in his heart, but there was something he could do about it, and at that point the music began to get louder and the dancers began to jump higher and shake faster.
(translation by Daniel, an Ethiopian).
Nov. 9th.

The water turned back on today (yay!) so I got to take a shower and it was marvelous.

Impressions:
Kids saying “soft soft soft soft soft” selling Kleenex.
Coffee Ceremony!!

Friday November 9th
Talked with Kibron and set up an interview for next Thursday, when he is available. Heard that his room where his wife and three children live (a 15X25 ft. place) was rented for 250 birr (~$30/month) to 280 birr, and he’s now looking for a new place since he can’t afford the increase.

Watching a story on TV about Ethiopian runners and how they train- some actually have to pay to train on a real track, so many run in the mountains instead.

Kids playing tether ball with a old frayed rope and sand filled sock.
Brown juice bars. No water. (tinish, whatever that means)
The guard who stomps his foot and salutes us and gives us a high five.
Girl with snoopy backpack being teased and chased by the boy. Gabe and Connie and how kind they are.

November 5th
Today was not the best day. Woke up and taught at the school. Mostly working on superlatives, and we’re trying to explain to them the exceptions, because their book doesn’t really explain them.
At lunch we had a garlic soup- very tasty but probably not the best thing to eat while living in close quarters- but it was one of the only non-meat items.
There are two fasting days per week in which there are vegetarian items available, but the rest of the days, good luck! Even in the most meat heavy restaurants, you can ask for a fasting menu on Wednesdays and Fridays, which is just another way of how religion is integrated into every day life here.
I am not doing so well with the food and the stomach issues- I’m not sure what it is. I was sick today-nauseous and tired with all of the usual stuffy head, nose, and sore throat. Probably a combination of latent jet lag, dehydration, new foods, and also being around dozens of school kids every day. Like everyday, a dozen kids or so followed us the mile through the fields, many barefoot, carrying water in plastic jugs, using plastic bags or pieces of cloth for backpacks, and took turns holding our hands. We love holding their hands but we are also careful about it because, as Connie put it, you don’t know where their hands have been.
There are so many people working in the field on the way to the orphanage. They have a half day school system so that the children can work in the fields in either the afternoon or morning, and each week they rotate. Because we are here this week, we start a couple hours early and the kids come to work on their English before their regular day, which shows how much these kids want to learn. When one of the orphans (I feel badly that I cannot spell his name and hardly pronounce it) walks with us to school he constantly asks us questions (What is a conjunction? What is a preposition?).
I feel a little bad that they are having to learn English. I think it is good to learn other languages, but it just seems, I don’t know, a little unfair that they have to learn English to even go to high school. On the other hand, Gebre from the orphanage really wants them to all learn English so that they do have opportunity.
After we got done at the orphanage I was very tired and not feeling well and so I took a nap.
Tamrat came over at 5 as promised and I interviewed him for about an hour until he had to go back to the church. It was slow going what with the language issues but generally we talked more about the structure of the church, and also his life history.
At one point JM and D came in to listen as well (and I think Tamrat enjoyed the attention). He pointed out that since they were both single, that they were free to marry each other. They just kind of laughed, so Tamrat repeated this idea for their benefit.
He told us that the congregation at the church was very happy that we had come on Sunday and that several people even left comments in the comments box saying how happy they were that we came to visit them.
At about 7 PM or so we went to eat dinner at the home of some Italians who are part of an NGO working to get better education to Ethiopian women and also to help them avoid prostitution, which is very prominent in Ethiopia. It is almost viewed as an acceptable work for women who are trying to put themselves through school.
The medical students have seen the corollary of this in the hospital, where there are many STDs and and fistulas.
At any rate on of the Italian students is working on his thesis concerning the Ethiopian transmission to democracy. They had internet at their house and so I tried again to get onto Blogger or Wordpress, and Marco saw and explained that all blogging sites have been banned by the Ethiopian government.
The Italians fed us pasta and salad washed in clean water with potatoes and beets and carrots and tomatoes and it was wonderful. Unfortunately, we (I guess I should say “I” because I think everyone else was happy) kind of got stuck there (they live in dark area and I wouldn’t have been able to find my way back and so I had to wait for everyone else to get a group taxi) until pretty late and so I didn’t accomplish much in the way of writing or ethnography.
November 6th
I’m feeling a little better, but still achy and sore throat and stomach issues. But on the whole better.
To get to the school we are driven as far of the orphanage and then we walk the mile to the school. Many of the students walk several miles.
Today we talked about Animals, mostly about chimpanzees. The kids are warming up to the idea of raising hands and responding. I think it helps that we’re completely willing to make total idiots out of ourselves in order to get the kids to laugh. We bump each others hips and have a lot of fun playing charades to help them understand the meaning of new vocabulary words. Stickers continue to be a big motivator- I’m about to run out though, so I’m thinking about what else I can use. Maybe give away pens? Candies? (is that a bad idea?) or maybe by then they will just be used to participating.
The younger children crowd around the doors and windows while we are teaching and sometimes it gets so crowded that we have to shoo them away, just because it gets loud. So today at the end of class I pretended to be a monster and really scared a few of the kids, then they realized I was playing and we started to play a little game of chase, which they loved. They are SO fast though, I can’t catch them.
Then the director came out and didn’t look too happy so I felt bad. Today even more kids than usual followed us back to the orphanage- at least 20, maybe more. One carried my notebook for me so I gave him a couple birr for it. Now I probably won’t ever be able to carry my notebook again.
At the orphanage we tried to help Connie for a little while and she made us tuna sandwiches. She is always feeding us, every time we go, even though she claims she can’t cook. So far she has made us blueberry muffins, roasted corn from her fields for us, and now tuna sandwiches. The woman is a saint.
Then the driver for the orphanage took us back. He wants to take us on a tour of the museum in town and also show us a tour of the SOS children’s village, but I’m not sure when we will have time- we are leaving on Saturday for Axum.
On the way, we plan to see rock-hewn churches and we will be with a driver who will be able to hopefully translate for us with the priest.
I am a little sad about leaving my contacts here in Mekelle, because I was just starting to develop relationships with them, especially Kibron and Tamrat.
I am looking forward to meeting Fisseha, though, who just arrived in Mekelle today (Fisseha is one of the main people I was in contact with prior to arriving in Ethiopia- director of tourism in Axum).
This afternoon I went back to the church- there is an evening service every night, but tonight there were far fewer people. Only about 20 or so.
I took some notes during the service, with Tamrat sitting next to me and translating for me. Afterwards, Tamrat showed me the Sunday school area, where they study the bible. I pointed to a drum that was in the room, and Tamrat picked it up and I was able to video them singing a song about St. Yared. Afterwards Tamrat escorted me back, but I am going to go back to the church tomorrow morning around 6AM to see what it is like on a fasting day to see if it is any different.
Apparently, in the mornings, people go only to pray; there is not a service like in the evenings in and on Sunday mornings. Tamrat also said he would allow me to take pictures of the church so that I could come back and show people what their church is like.
Also, Tamrat asked for help buying new clothes. I have noticed that he wears the same clothes every day (and actually, so have I, for the most part). I want to help him, he has helped me so much, but I’m not sure what would be appropriate. He sleeps in the church, and doesn’t have any income (his work involves praying with people and preaching, making announcements at the end of the service and talking with people about God, and counseling people if they ask). I know he does a lot of good things for the people in the church and he of course has been a great help to me, but what he asked for (when I asked for a specific number) is quite a lot (500 birr or a little over $50, which here is quite a lot) to buy clothes and I’m not sure what I should do or if it is appropriate for me to do so. I have already given some birr for seeing the church and always put some in the offering box (not necessarily a lot, but a little every time I go to the church). I also bought some recordings of church music from him, the same one they raffle away (everyone gives one birr and writes their name down, then one name is pulled out of the box and the cd of church music is given to that person).
There are a lot of ethical issues involved that keep coming up (should I take a photograph, should I film, should I give the church money) and while I want to help, I don’t want to be taken advantage of, and the short time frame makes it really hard to learn all of the ‘rules.’ I also want to help all of the kids that walk to school with us, and I want to buy them all shoes and a good bag for their books and buy books for the kids who don’t have one, but it’s just impossible to do it for everyone, so what do you do?
I explained to him that we are all students and that we only brought just enough money with us, but that I would talk with my husband and do what I can. He seemed to accept that we would try and help, and said that any help would be appreciated, but he also didn’t seem to believe me that 500 birr would be a little difficult for me. But I also feel like a jerk because the people here don’t have much, but what they do they are so generous with. We have been treated with such great hospitality and I have seen the hospitality in others.
To conclude the service tonight Deacon Tamrat showed me the prayer which involved saying “Jesus Christ, Lord” while holding your right hand with your left and sliding two fingers over each of the three segments of the four fingers on the right hand (not the thumb). Maybe the three segments are the trinity? (Tamrat stresses Father, Son, Holy Spirit, ONE GOD, quite a lot). Then you repeat the same thing, just saying ‘St. Mary, St. Mary.’
It is a little strange observing things like this just because it is very different from what I grew up with. I am trying to just record and observe exactly what happens to try and understand how they think about religion, or just to understand exactly what their worship consists of.
Tamrat also motioned to me at the end of the service, when the preacher was over, everyone stands up and faces the church (even the priest turns around) and everyone prays together, I believe it is the Lord’s prayer) Then everyone kneels, touched their forehead to the ground, then kisses the ground.
When the priest came up to me I was able to touch my forehead to the cross then kiss the cross at the right time.
People still have to fix my wrap for me, but they are very happy that I wear it. Tonight on the way back I got a lot of “good clothes” comments.
I think it actually makes me the center of MORE attention, because people in Mekelle are used to the occasional faranji (foreigner) but a foreigner wearing the wrap makes me more interesting, but in a positive way.

Something else that I have noticed is that Ethiopians for the most part really love America and seem to have positive feelings about George Bush. I just thought that was interesting given the general anti-Americanism in most foreign countries.
Today one of the Sunday school teachers (one of the ones I was able to videotape) asked me wear I was from and when I said Texas he said “George Bush, yes? Very good.” When he first said George Bush I was a little worried he might have a negative connotation but it was entirely positive.
He was actually one of the fewer number of people who knew right off exactly where Texas was.
Other observation: There is seriously music playing EVERYWHERE here, all the time. People just blast whatever they feel like out of boom boxes on every street corner. Usually it’s Ethiopian music, but occasionally it’s hip hop.
Beyonce came and gave a concert right before we arrived and the Ethiopians LOVED her. It was a really big deal and that’s what I say now when people don’t know where Texas is (it’s where Beyonce is from) and they generally are pretty excited about that. Apparently it was front page news and was broadcast on television everywhere.
Anyway, about 10PM is when the music finally starts to die down, but there’s a club nearby our hotel and so we hear music until midnight at least on most nights. But honestly the only time there isn’t music playing is on the walk to school, or in between songs at church. It’s amazing.

November 4,
Starting at 5AM, and hour before dawn, white robes began to filter through the traffic circle beneath the balcony of our hotel room, all on their way to the Tekla Church. There were many beggars sitting around the circle and I was impressed at the frequency in which a person would stop to give change. I was able to video tape this.
About 6:30 (:30 ethiopian time) we headed down the street to the Tekla Church where Deacon Tamrat had invited us. Kibron was waiting downstairs to take us; he escorted our group to the church.
Walking up to the church on a rocky dirt road there were many crippled people begging, and many others dressed in beautiful white scarves on their way to church as well. Lining the road were women trying to sell vegetables and herbs.
Approaching the church I began to hear chanting, which is produced by a megaphone attached to the front of the church. The yard surrounding the church was full of people clothed in white. Circling the round church is a tiled, porch-like area. One side is for women, the other for men. Kibron showed us where to stand, but the men in our group didn’t realize that they were on the female side, and had to be moved back over to the mens’ side.
Since we were on the porch and very close to the church, we took our shoes off, which is what all the Ethiopians had done. The church is too sacred to allow shoes to be worn.
The other 2 girls in our group didn’t stay long and went back to the hotel. I understand why; We couldn’t actually understand what was being said, and there are so many rules that we do not know (which is further compounded by not knowing the language- we can’t ask!)
I stayed, though, and an elderly woman who was standing next to me adjusted my head scarf in the proper way (to represent a cross) and then helped me know when to kneel, lift hands, touch your forehead to the floor.
There would be chanting, and then a different section of the chant would begin, marked by either a different singer, cadence, or an increase or decrease in rhythm. At that point, the church attendees knew when to kneel, touch their foreheads to the ground, or join in the singing.
The woman standing next to me also motioned to me to touch the pillar of the church (which I was standing by). I noticed that many women were touching some part of the church- I believe this is done for the same reason as when people walk by the church and kiss the gates- a sign of respect and recognition of holiness.
There was also a priest or two walking by with a golden Ethiopian cross, which he would press to the forehead of a person’s face, then bring down to their lips for the cross to be kissed.
After about an hour and a half, Tamrat the deacon came up to me, took my shoulders, then kissed the air next to my left cheek, then right, then left again, which is a traditional way of Ethiopian greetings.
Then he asked me where the rest of the group had gone, and I didn’t know what to say- he was a little concerned because he wanted us to go to a coffee ceremony with the chairperson of the church at 8AM.
I should say at this point that although Tamrat speaks English, he nods a lot when he doesn’t actually fully understand what I am saying, and sometimes this causes miscommunications, like for example what time he wants me (or in this case the group) to be someplace. But he tries extremely hard and has gone out of his way to help me.
He asked me to go back to the hotel and get the rest of the group, and he repeated “Don’t Late, Don’t Late” several times. So, I walked as quickly as possible to the hotel, but the group had already changed clothing and thought that Tamrat had said the ceremony wasn’t until 9, so they weren’t very quick about leaving, even though I told them about the “Don’t Late”
So, we ended up getting back to the church about 20 after 8 (our time, 2 Ethiopian time) and the first question Deacon Tamrat asked was “Why Late?”
He seemed upset, but as soon as the boys apologized, Deacon Tamrat said, that’s ok, don’t worry about it. Then he proceeded to give us a tour of the church. He walked us by the women’s section, and then through the men’s, and eventually he led us into the church after he placed all of our shoes in a box by the entrance.
Surprisingly(to me), the inside of the church was not even half full, although outside people were packed around and crowded from the church to the gates, which was a much larger area than the inside of the church. There was thin brown carpet lining the floor, and a few wooden pews- two columns and about 10 benches on each side.
The benches face a circular structure that is also round. This is called the temple, and there are three red curtains. I asked Tamrat what was inside, and he said, “The covenant” but no one is allowed to go inside of the curtains except for the priest.
The priest on the inside was also wearing white robes with silver thread scrolling, and he wore a back hat.
Tamrat took us around the church, pointing to the painted wooden panels that make up the temple and explained the biblical scenes depicted through the paintings.
The biggest point that Tamrat expresses is “Father, Son, Holy Ghost, One God.” He said this quite frequently and with great excitement.
The scenes were quite similar to the types of scenes depicted in stained glass windows in Europe, but the painting is much brighter and the shapes of the faces are different, with darker, wider, and more almond shaped eyes. Mary is shown in blue robes.
There were scenes depicting beheadings, satan (which was a big gray demon with horns, slanted eyes, a dark red tongue and pointy teeth, as well as the first miracle (water into wine) and several scenes depicting Paul, John, James, the Virgin Mary, Jesus, and others.
After the tour of the inside of the church, Tamrat escorted us to the benches in front of the church. There were people already sitting there, who probably needed the bench more than we did, but Tamrat insisted and so we all smooshed together in front of the church and listened to the preaching of the gospel (in Amharic). The preacher acknowledged us and welcomed us through the microphone he was using to preach to the crowd.
After certain pauses by the preacher, the crowd would make a high pitched “ee ee ee ee” call, which I think might be a type of acknowledgement.
He preached for about an hour and a half, and the priests we were sitting between explained from time to time what was being discussed, which was basically about how God would do great things in your life and how he could heal people, and also that you could only have one wife, not two, and you could not get divorced.
Then we all stood and faced the church (which means we turned around) and a prayer was sung, and the entire congregation (right word??) joined in. I got a recording of this. I also got a recording of most of the preaching, but the preaching lasted 3 hours and my recorder only lasts about 2 and a half.
Then announcements were made, and then a theology student who spoke English (slightly better than Tamrat) told us again how welcome we were and that we were their honored guests, and that Christianity reaches beyond borders.
Afterwards it was a matter of shaking hands and embracing the many priests (9 in total) and deacons. Tamrat then escorted us to the office of the clergy for another coffee ceremony (our second in two days!). The woman serving the coffee put three huge scoops of sugar into our cups (our cups are rather small).
We were also brought cups of water. Tamrat and a priest joined us and shortly afterwards three very large rounds of thick bread, wrapped in newspapers. The bread was torn in half, a half given to each group of people (the clergy, J&J, me and D). The bread was so big and so filling it was difficult to finish it, but the priests kept encouraging us to eat more.
The priest seemed concerned that we didn’t like the coffee, so we reassured him several times saying “Good! Good!” The priest does not speak much English.”
We talked a lot about Ethiopian culture. Tamrat said, “You enjoy Ethiopian coffee. Ceremony is part of culture, it is good.” And we explained that to us Ethiopia had shown us so much hospitality that it was difficult to accept, because where we come from, you are supposed to do things for yourself.
The priest asked us all to write our names down, and he was very happy that we all had Christian names. Then he asked us if we had any children, and when we said no, he asked (and was translated through Tamrat, who was also curious,) “Why not? What is the reason?” They were also surprised to find that D and J were unmarried, and again wanted to know what the reason for this was.
Then the priest told us (through Tamrat) to wait until we got rich to have children, because in Africa people were always marrying and having children and having more than 2 children makes them poor. So, he told us to only have 2 children.
The priest spoke for about 5 minutes and when Tamrat translated I think we only got a small sliver of what was actually said.
Frustrations:
I wish I spoke Tigrinya. I am loosing a lot of information that would be very valuable.
Also, my computer power cord was chewed by a puppy the night before I left and I have to spend several minutes fairly frequently adjusting the cord to that power can get through.
Also, while I don’t think anyone in the hotel would steal anything, they leave the keys in a box on the floor while they are cleaning, and it just makes a little nervous with my laptop and research all in the room.

On the plus side:
It makes people very happy when we wear the head scarfs. The lady in the market below our hotel (Seti Market) pointed to me and said “Good” and I have had that reaction from several people, from the receptionist to just random people on the street. Also they have been very nice about adjusting it for me.
I got some fairly good recordings, which is good, and I didn’t do any flash photography today, which is also good. I’m going to try and talk to Tamrat about possibly having him escort me while I take just a few photographs, if I explain my purpose is to show people back home what their services are like. I’ll respect his answers either way.
The other person at the coffee ceremony was a monk, according to Tamrat.

Tamrat explained that the church directly adjacent to Tekla church has been there for over 150 years, so that even though they built the new church (which took 5 years to build) they would never destroy the old church, because that would be a “Treason.”
5PM
Went back to church for what we were told was the English version. It was not in English, but what a wonderful experience.
Tamrat let us to a special bench at the front of the church (the older church), and the priest welcomed us all and the audience clapped. The priest spoke for about an hour (I wish I knew what he was saying!) until about sunset. Tamrat, true to his word, gave us about a 5 minute recap of what the sermon was about, which was basically ‘father son and holy ghost one god” and also the differences between the protestants and the Orthodox Church.
Then singing began (I think I got some really good recordings!)
There was a drum strapped around a musician’s neck. One end was very large, the other small, with heads stretched across both sides so that one end was a deep sound and the other more highly pitched. The drummer would hit the deep end once, following by two faster hits on the higher pitched head.
After some time there was also the bell instrument which was shown to me earlier when Tamrat was giving us a tour

When it became dark, a priest walked around giving everyone a tiny strand of wax that was a candle, and each person used their neighbor’s candle to light their own. Tamrat told us that the fire is supposed to represent Heaven.
Audience participation increased- there was clapping, and also the high pitched “ee ee ee ee ee ee” cries at certain points in the chant. People also began to sway from side to side, and the musicians and singers formed a circle and began to walk around in a circle around the drum. The audience joined in the singing at this point.
When the song was close to being finished, a priest came by and collected the remainder of the candles. People began to file out of the church doors, and dozens of children ran up to us and we kissed the air next to their cheeks and shook all of their hands.
Tamrat wants to come over to our hotel tomorrow at 5 o’clock to talk some more.

November 3
This morning I woke up about 5 AM to get ready to go to the church with Kibron, the taxi driver. He had told me he was going to show me around, but he had to pick somebody up from the airport, but he took me to the church and walked up the hill with me.
At the base of the hill, an Ethiopian woman motioned to me and she put my prayer wrap over my head and both ends lifted and placed securely over each opposite shoulder. This is intended to represent the cross.
The wrap that Kibron selected for me is very simple and traditional, and very similar to what most women were wearing. The basic design is a long white cloth that resembles cheesecloth, with a criss-cross stitch connecting two panels. Along the hem of one side of the longest side, there is embroidery with traditional crosses or arrow shaped motifs. Generally, the wrap covers your head down to the knees. Some women’s designs are much more elaborate and colorful, others had a plain white cloth, but in general the idea was the same.
Many men had their heads covered as well, but there were no women without a wrap.
Climbing up the hill were hundreds of similarly dressed people, covered in white, because today is St George’s day, and coming to St. George’s church on his day will help to grant you a wish. Because they are making a journey to a specific church on a specific day, for spiritual reasons, which they might not have otherwise done had it not been St. George’s day, I am going to call these people pilgrims.
There were also many beggars, as well as people selling crosses, prayer books, even vegetables on the sides of the hill.
Inside of the church there was a cloth laid out with a pile of dirt on it. People picked up a piece of paper or a leaf, and placed the dirt on top of it, then placed the dirt in their mouths. When I ran into Kibron later that day, he showed me that he had about five or six different little packets of dirt in his ashtray in his taxi, all from different churches. He explained the purpose of the dirt , which you can either place on your tongue and eat by itself, or you can mix with water and use it as a drink, is to cleanse and heal the body, or just make you feel better. He told me that you should take your medicines, but afterwards you should eat some dirt from the churches.
The chanting in the morning definitely comes from St. George’s Church, which has a megaphone attached to the front so that people outside the church can hear.
Generally the pilgrims at the church faced toward the front, although several turned around to stare at me- I was the only white person there. Kibron had to leave for the airport to pick someone up, but after he initially left, I just was standing there, not knowing exactly what to do, but then Kibron came back and told me, “Sarai, do not be afraid, it is alright, go in the church.” Then he walked away.
So, I put my sandals into a plastic bag and went to the front of the church. Most people were standing outside of the church, and the people who did go in knelt on the ground and kissed it before entering. I just went in a little way, then looked around, and came back out. I was very self conscious, and I still don’t know how exactly I’m supposed to act or what I’m supposed to do. I don’t want to offend anyone, especially in their place of worship.
Then, disaster struck. I now know why James Spradley writes about ethnographers who hide out in their hotel rooms for weeks before they begin to get any work done. At first I didn’t understand it- after all the anticipation and work leading up to a research trip, how could you get there and suddenly want to hide out? Now I know why.
I was looking at a sea of people cloaked in white, raising their hands and alternately kneeling, and there was a small child wearing a brown dress and white covering who had twisted around and was staring at me under the arms of her mother. I thought I could discreetly take a picture by just peeking the lens of my camera out from under my cloak, but although I thought I had turned off the flash, I PUSHED THE WRONG BUTTON. My camera flashed. People turned and stared. I. felt. Like. An. Ass. (and I was one, in that moment).
I was also having trouble fumbling around with my recording equipment, and after listening to the recording, I’m pretty disappointed with the quality.
Anyhow, so I walked to the back of the gated area, behind everyone else, and just watched for about an hour. THIS IS WHAT I SHOULD HAVE DONE IN THE FIRST PLACE. Just watch. Observe. Learn.
That way, when you make an ass out of yourself, at least you probably did some things right, first.
I feel like I fumbled this one and made just about every mistake possible. That’s ok. I probably won’t be going to St. George’s church again- I just wanted to go to it today because it was his day. Saint George is actually the patron saint of Ethiopia. Sometimes, he is depicted as the king of saints, or other times as a great dragon slayer on a horse.
Tomorrow Kibron has promised me to show me around the Tekla Church, which is the one closer to my hotel and also the one where Timrat is the deacon and I have met the priest.
I feel like maybe I should just get over the not wanting to disturb anyone and just take my pictures. I mean, I’m already getting stared at, and maybe if I just walked around, shooting like I had a purpose, then people would understand better what I was there for? But then part of me just makes me feel even worse. I mean, how do professional photographers get some of those shots without being completely insensitive, especially with this type of subject matter, especially with their large camera equipment? Any suggestions???
I truly wish I had gotten some photographs, because it was truly a beautiful seen, all of those people gathered to worship God, some standing, arms outstretched, others kneeling, kissing the ground, all clothed in white cloths, a cross around their necks.
On the way back I had to find my way back to the hotel, since Kibron had left. A little while later Kibron found me walking back (guess I’m not hard to spot in a crowd, even while attempting to blend in by wearing local clothing) and picked me to drive me the rest of the way. He didn’t even charge me. He told me I was brave for going by myself. It will be nice to go with him tomorrow so I having someone to follow/mimic.
12PM
Yesterday afternoon about 2:30 we headed over to the Orphanage to play with the kids. Gabre met our group and he wanted to show them his plans.
He spent a little more time with them talking about his vision for a clinic one day, and also showed him a garden where they grow medicinal plants. Artemesia is grown to cure malaria, and J later showed me an article he had printed off of pub med that demonstrated that in fact the plant does in fact help to treat malaria. They have several other plants growing and I hope maybe one day Connie can show more of the garden to me.
Gabe took us inside and talked to us more about his vision and how it had come to be so far. When they first came here, it was to see their roots. Gabre had been born in Tigray, but moved to Addis Ababa when he was a boy with his parents. This allowed him to get an education, and also this is where he met his wife, where they were high school classmates.
He then moved to India where he received his degree, then to New York where Connie was. After the communist government was overthrown, he said they were able to come for a visit, but when they did, they saw so much need that they knew they wanted to help.
They came here without the funding to build an orphanage, but soon donors heard of what they were doing and began to give. They have one Jewish businessman in particular that has given over 110,000 dollars.
We asked Gebre how much more he would need to finish the rest of the place, and he said about $250,000. When we heard this figure, we were so surprised, because this will buy a school, a dairy farm, chicken coup, a second building for AIDS orphans, and the multi-purpose hall. It is a lot of money, but it just seems like such a small figure for so many good things.
I am continually impressed with how thought-out his plans are- the sections of land not being built on right now were planted with corn so that ‘the rainy season wasn’t wasted” and the future septic system for a second building is currently being used as a rain collector. The land is situated between two mountains, funneling the wind, and he has plans to harness the wind to power the orphanage.
We were sitting in the living area of the orphanage while Gebre was explaining all of this to us, when Connie peeked her head through the window and asked us if we would like roasted corn. She had torn fresh ears of corn from her garden and roasted them outside for us. We all accepted and plucked the kernals from the ear of corn with our fingers- delicious! We eventually had to ask her to stop roasting more ears, because she just kept bringing more!
Gebre also is a fascinating storyteller, and he told us much of the history of Ethiopia. He better explained the entire situation with Eritrea (from an Ethiopian’s perspective, of course). He said that the Eritreans know where the border is, but the UN drew a random line (he said something like “I’m telling you, if that line was used, houses would be split in half!) He said what should have happened was that elders from each side should have been gathered to show officials where the line actually was, because everyone knew where the “real” border is.
He also talked about the Italian aggressions of the 1890s and later in WWII, and how it had drained the countries resources. He is very proud that Ethiopia is the only country to not succumb to colonization by a western force , and was also quick to point out that Ethiopia could never be called an aggressor by any country, that anytime they had engaged in any military moves, it had always been reactionary, and that they had taught many countries good lessons, because they had never been defeated as a country.
He said that even tribes who were fighting with each other would drop their quarrels in order to help fight for Ethiopia.

Playing with Children:

1st Coffee Ceremony:

November 1st 2007
Weather in Mekele is quite nice, with lows in the high forties or low fifties, and warming to mid seventies during the day.
Eating has been an adventure, to say the very least. I do have a phrasebook of Tigrayan and Amharic and am learning the various words and so I can generally avoid very spicy foods, but I am not a huge fan of Injera bread, the sour spongy utensil-bread.
Communication is difficult but not impossible. I have learned the very basics (hello, good morning, thank you (I pronounced this incorrectly numerous times and it always gets me laughed at; I’m wondering if I’m saying a word that means something more like grapefruit than thank you).
In Mekele, the sun rises at 0 in the morning, which is 6AM on our clocks, to what sounds like calls to prayer. There is a mosque here, but is fairly far away and I don’t believe in the same direction, and so I am wondering if it is actually the Orthodox Church prayer chanting. Out of the balcony I have observed numerous white robed people walking directly to the Tekla orthodox church near our hotel, and this makes me think it might be the prayer chanting.
I really want to go to the church tomorrow morning and find out. Today is the third day in Mekele- the first morning I was incredibly fatigued with jet lag, and the second morning I was unsure of what type of dress or manners I should bring with me to the church (especially since the women’s heads were covered, and so I didn’t think it would be wise to just roll in dressed with my American clothing among the worshippers without first having spoken with more people about what exactly was expected of me.
Gebre, the orphanage director, put me in contact with a Taxi driver yesterday named Kibron, who speaks very excellent English. On the way to the orphanage this morning Kibron answered many questions I had about the Orthodox Church. He told me that I could definitely visit the churches, and told me a little bit about the protocol, which includes taking your shoes off, and told me that I needed to get a scarf for my head before I went.
He told me that he would go with me, but that he had done some ‘not so good things’ lately and needed to confess before he went back to church. He went on to say you should not go to a club one night and the church the next morning. But, he said the next time he saw me he would take me somewhere to buy the appropriate scarf.
He also told me that on Saturday there was a special celebration at one of the churches (not the Tekla church, a bigger one on top of a hill) because it is St. George’s day this Saturday. He said to give him a call on Saturday and he would pick me up and take me to the church (I have made friends with the receptionist Tigist and she lets me use the hotel phone whenever I want for free, but she won’t let me dial the buttons myself).
After that, we went to the orphanage where Gebre had one of the orphans escort us on the approx. 20 min. walk through fields full of workers harvesting tef and wheat and flaxseed with small scythe-like instruments, collecting water, and taking care of cattle. Then we arrived at the school. We asked Gebre what the best way we could help would be, and he asked us if we could help teach English for a couple hours a day to the 8th graders, because they have a national exam coming us and they always do poorly because they do not have a good teacher, and without doing well on this particular test, their options for high school are then limited (as I understand the situation). So of course, we said yes.
Gebre also asked me if I would contribute to the website with my pictures, and I said that yes, I would, and I am have also written a profile piece about him that I am going to send to the Daily Toreador and see if they will publish it. If not, I will at least let him use it for his website and also post it on my blog.
He has been so helpful to me, showing me around Mekele, and explaining so much about Ethiopian history and culture, that I am more than ecstatic to help in anyway I can, and still it seems insufficient.
When we walk to the school, young, barefoot children follow us the entire way. Many students use newspapers for their notebook paper, and over 70 children are packed into a single room with one teacher and three to five students sit to a desk. There is not light, the room is dark, and I think it would be very difficult to try and read the chalkboard from the back of the room.
The children were all incredibly (INCREDIBLY) well behaved and respectful, and stood up when we entered the room and all had plastered big smiles on their faces. Many of them are very hungry to learn-in fact the young man who escorted us pulled out his textbook (a small paperback the size of a coloring book) and began pointing to words he did not know and we would try to use charades to explain. He did the same for us with Tigrayan.
When we left small children followed us and happily practiced “Hello, how are you!” “What is your name?!” “How old are you!”
The way back was unescorted and I got a little lost in the open fields in the mild between the orphanage and the school, which includes a couple of small river/creek crossings, and many large bulls. But, I eventually found my way.
Gebre is truly a visionary. After returning to the orphanage Gebre gave us a tour of the orphanage and the many ambitious projects he has planned for the land, then we returned to the hotel.
That afternoon, I went to the Tekla Orthodox Church where people would walk by and kiss the gates and form a cross over their heads. Many people continues walking, and didn’t actually enter the gates, and this made me hesitant to do so, unsure if perhaps one was supposed to enter the church only at certain times.
There were actually two churches, a newer one, and then directly behind that one an older church. I was hesitant to go inside the gated compound of the church, because of the people walking by not going in the gates; I didn’t want to offend anyone. People stare at me quite a lot, which is understandable since I stick out like a sore thumb.
The Deacon, Timrat, saw me looking hesitantly at the church and came out to tell me he was the deacon and if I’d like to see the church, he’d show it to me. He speaks English fairly well, but has a little trouble understanding my accent.
He took me in the outside area and introduced us to the Father, the priest, who was tall and wrapped in white. He held a gold ornamental cross and another white wrapping around his head, similar to a turban but not as large and more compact. He nodded to us while Timrat, who speaks more English, told me a little about the history. He told me the church was not ready to enter at that moment, but that when it had been prepared, it would be a better time to enter.
The church was closed at that time so he told me that, at this point, I could either give the priests a piece of advice or some birr, and I gave him some birr. Timrat wants me to return to the church on Sunday at 7 AM (one o’clock on the Ethiopian clock), where we will listen to the service . Afterwards, Timrat promised to explain more about the church, and he invited us to a coffee ceremony, which is a sign of respect and friendship, and a great honor to be invited to.
I ran into Timrat later that same day walking to my hotel after a quick trip to the internet café. He had a copy of Aristotle’s St. Achnid of __? In his hand in Amharic (he also speaks Tigrayan). He spoke to me about the many greek philosophers and their ideas about God, and reminded me again to come by the Church on Sunday to hear more about the philosophers and about God. He told me that he was trying hard to find a bible in English so he could translate it into Tigrayan, the local language. Our group happened to have an extra bible (pocket sized) between us, and he is coming by our hotel at 5 o’clock today and we are going to give him an English bible.
I tried to explain to Timrat what exactly my project is, but he did not seem to quite understand, but kept saying that of course I was welcome anytime at the church, just to make sure I got a head covering from a ‘spiritual shop’ before I came. Today when I see him I am going to show him a drawing of musical instruments and a big eye looking at them and I hope that will help him understand more what I am interested in.
Timrat has been to university, and so I think he will understand if I try to explain that I am working on research and learning more about his church and culture partly for my university education.
He is very open, though, and I am very excited about going to a coffee ceremony with him.
Later yesterday I ran into Kibron in the afternoon, who apparently hangs out close to our hotel (this makes sense since our hotel overlooks a small park, Lucy Park, which is a major congregation area for people to some and sit and socialize. There are also several buildings in Lucy Park that play recorded music all day long, until well after 9 PM, in fact.
He took me to a store to buy a head covering. When we got to the area with many shops, he took me in and bargained for me (foreigners are charged a little more, apparently). I said thank you and asked him if sometime he would sit down and talk to me a little more about the church. He said anytime, and then told me again that he would take me to the church celebration this Saturday. I’ll give him a call this afternoon and set up a time for him to pick me up.

Other thoughts:
In general, things here are well. There is one person in the group having a very difficult time adjusting, especially with the diseases seen in the hospital, and maybe one or two others just feeling overwhelmed. It is a big difference and I feel I am constantly making accidental mistakes.
For example, while drinking tea yesterday, our group was sitting in the corner, when the manager came by and asked us if we would like to move to a better table, and we said, oh no, that’s alright. Then we realized that he had pushed tables together and put a special table cloth on the table just for us (we saw him take the table cloth off and push away the tables).
At the bank there was an incredibly long line and a worker came and took me to the back (thus skipping the line) and sat me down and took care of me, and asked me if I would please sit and have some coffee. They were very excited about my name, which is apparently a popular Ethiopian name. I just felt bad about getting special treatment , but especially after the earlier incident, I didn’t want to refuse and end up being even more rude.
I am just overwhelmed with how nice everyone has been to me and the rest of our group. The Kibron asked me yesterday if I would come back, and I have only been here two days, but I am already informing an emphatic ‘YES’ in my mind. I feel that to really do a thorough project, I need to be here for something more like 6 months to a year. It just takes time to meet people, develop relationships, and get over the language issues and earn enough trust to be able to have candid conversations with priests and so on. But of couse, I am just going to do as much as I can in the time that I’m here (which seems woefully too short at the moment).
I am SO excited about the coffee ceremony, and about the celebration at the church on Saturday.