Saturday morning and there's an insistent tapping at the gate. Upon opening it, it's no surprise to find "The Farmer" standing there in his suit which has seen better days. We've mentioned him before, he comes to work in our garden from time to time and is especially useful in the rainy seasons when things go wild. Outside the rainy seasons there's not much to be done, but he seems to have become one of our charity cases (yes, yes we know this does not represent the sustainable part of what we're doing here) and so we give him money, bread and bananas from time to time. Today he shows up with a broad nearly-toothless grin as usual and explains in a mixture of Italian and Tigrinya that there's just no work around in Asmara at the moment. Is it my imagination or does he look even more hollow cheeked than usual? Is his dark leathery skin stretched even tighter over his facial bones? Perhaps it's that we had been talking about hunger in the countryside just the previous evening. He apologetically takes the money on offer and leaves.
Food is never far away from the top of the list as a topic of conversation in Eritrea, even amongst the small group of diplomats we now seem to know, it's just that it's difficult to take complaints about having to use powdered milk seriously from them when the food situation is worsening for the country as a whole and powdered milk is way too expensive for the vast majority of the people.
Increasingly we seem to be seeing more people begging on the streets and there are some examples of very thin older women amongst them. They really don't look all that much more healthy than some of those featured in images from past famine campaigns. As for the rest there are very few overweight Eritreans and those that are we always suspect of being here on a visit from a developed country.
Volunteers as well almost all lose weight during their time here (once again I'm not suggesting that we have a hard life in comparison to the locals, it has to do with a switch to a mainly vegetarian diet and the odd bout of sickness) and I've started to see this in myself, though Caroline and I are virtually the only volunteers who haven't really been ill yet. I even have ribs emerging once again after years buried under layers of blubber; I should be used to it really as I was really very thin at school ... Biafran, match-stick man and carcass were just some of the (kinder) names I was called.
Back to the point, though, the food situation never seems to get better so we really don't know where this one is heading particularly combined with the ongoing lack of fuel and, in the meantime, we'll just have to keep our charity cases going as long as we can.
P
Monday, 16 February 2009
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
Nothing much
Asmara is looking good, well it always looks good but especially now, as the weather is perfect – completely blue skies – and there’s flowers everywhere. That, combined with the gently decaying art deco architecture makes for a very relaxing walk to work.
Arriving at work however is something else. We are revising Grade 3, writing Grade 5 and planning Grade 8, sometimes all at the same time it feels. It’s definitely one of our busy periods. We could do with several more pairs of hands.
A few days ago I had lots of ideas for including in this blog entry, suddenly my mind has gone blank. If any of my brain cells decide to return I’ll write more later in the week.
C
Arriving at work however is something else. We are revising Grade 3, writing Grade 5 and planning Grade 8, sometimes all at the same time it feels. It’s definitely one of our busy periods. We could do with several more pairs of hands.
A few days ago I had lots of ideas for including in this blog entry, suddenly my mind has gone blank. If any of my brain cells decide to return I’ll write more later in the week.
C
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
Old and New Volunteers.
-----------------------
It's almost exactly one year since we arrived in Asmara and, while work sometimes seems to progress very slowly, it's been very eventful in other ways.
We talked about the wedding of one of our original group (there were seven of us arriving together this time last year and one left in October having completed her planned short placement) last weekend - very fast work really! Well, this weekend two more of the seven left early for various reasons ... and then there were four. So we have to say "all the best" Tom in your bicycle travels in West Africa and Jennie in your new volunteer post in Uganda and that we're going to miss you.
Coincidentally, there were a couple of parties to attend on Friday evening thrown by the expat community meaning Tom was able to go out with a pretty good hangover early Sunday. With a lot of volunteers being in town and, due to the kindness of Sean and Julie, we descended en masse to take advantage of a different world complete with barbequeued sausages and shrimps; and alcohol. There was not much food left at the end (VSO's have been likened to locusts before).
In the summer our original group of seven will become only two - we still intend to stay for our two years though, I must admit, we're already planning a very long wander through North Africa and Spain on our way back to the UK delaying our return until the spring of 2010.
The cycle continues though. The six new January volunteers have finally arrived, visa problems have been sorted out, they've been welcomed by us and, after two weeks of In-Country Training, they'll be on their way to placements as far away as Barentu and Agordat in the West of Eritrea.
The Motorised Wheelchair Appeal.
--------------------------------
We haven't had quite the response we wanted and the slide of the pound versus the dollar has moved the goalposts a little but, on the other hand, our house in Cambridge has just been rented for the next two years so we feel we can make up the shortfall. Please, if you do feel like contributing, send your cheques (any currency) to the VSO address on the left - it's never too late.
For us the next step is to move on and try and find one of the machines in question even if it means having to import one ourselves ... at least we still have time.
As for Dawit - he's on the same street corner every day, still selling his small items on the street, still ready with a cheery "Kemay hadirkum?", "Dehan do?", "Serah kemay?", "Kulu tsebuq?" and so on ...
Early Morning in Asmara
-----------------------
This morning (Tuesday 3rd) up at 5:30 am and out by 6:20 due to Caroline taking a bus to the Mai Nehfi technical school on a teaching assignment. At 6:30 the streets are really empty and we almost have the sunrise to ourselves apart from a few scurrying ghostly figures (women in traditional white shawls). Such is the lack of traffic that we can clearly hear early morning birdsong and I have two thoughts - "life is not so bad" and "I really need a coffee".
P
-----------------------
It's almost exactly one year since we arrived in Asmara and, while work sometimes seems to progress very slowly, it's been very eventful in other ways.
We talked about the wedding of one of our original group (there were seven of us arriving together this time last year and one left in October having completed her planned short placement) last weekend - very fast work really! Well, this weekend two more of the seven left early for various reasons ... and then there were four. So we have to say "all the best" Tom in your bicycle travels in West Africa and Jennie in your new volunteer post in Uganda and that we're going to miss you.
Coincidentally, there were a couple of parties to attend on Friday evening thrown by the expat community meaning Tom was able to go out with a pretty good hangover early Sunday. With a lot of volunteers being in town and, due to the kindness of Sean and Julie, we descended en masse to take advantage of a different world complete with barbequeued sausages and shrimps; and alcohol. There was not much food left at the end (VSO's have been likened to locusts before).
In the summer our original group of seven will become only two - we still intend to stay for our two years though, I must admit, we're already planning a very long wander through North Africa and Spain on our way back to the UK delaying our return until the spring of 2010.
The cycle continues though. The six new January volunteers have finally arrived, visa problems have been sorted out, they've been welcomed by us and, after two weeks of In-Country Training, they'll be on their way to placements as far away as Barentu and Agordat in the West of Eritrea.
The Motorised Wheelchair Appeal.
--------------------------------
We haven't had quite the response we wanted and the slide of the pound versus the dollar has moved the goalposts a little but, on the other hand, our house in Cambridge has just been rented for the next two years so we feel we can make up the shortfall. Please, if you do feel like contributing, send your cheques (any currency) to the VSO address on the left - it's never too late.
For us the next step is to move on and try and find one of the machines in question even if it means having to import one ourselves ... at least we still have time.
As for Dawit - he's on the same street corner every day, still selling his small items on the street, still ready with a cheery "Kemay hadirkum?", "Dehan do?", "Serah kemay?", "Kulu tsebuq?" and so on ...
Early Morning in Asmara
-----------------------
This morning (Tuesday 3rd) up at 5:30 am and out by 6:20 due to Caroline taking a bus to the Mai Nehfi technical school on a teaching assignment. At 6:30 the streets are really empty and we almost have the sunrise to ourselves apart from a few scurrying ghostly figures (women in traditional white shawls). Such is the lack of traffic that we can clearly hear early morning birdsong and I have two thoughts - "life is not so bad" and "I really need a coffee".
P
Monday, 26 January 2009
The Wedding
The wedding celebrations started last Thursday with the stag and hen nights. These were the British contribution to the festivities. I don’t think they are part of the Eritrean culture but were due to the groom being a Brit. In fact Sami was one of our group of volunteers who came out last January. (A year ago the day in fact) He is the youngest of the seven of us and had we been asked at the time would have been chosen as the least likely to be married within the year. His bride, Helen, is a lovely Eritrean who worked in the same school as Sami in Segeneyti. The stag night was organised by Tom and consisted of a football match (with all the players wearing Spurs shirts, and one black glove in honour of Michael Jackson, Sami’s hero,), bowling, a meal, a bar and a nightclub, everything accompanied by bottles of spirits brought in duty free by Sami’s brother. The hen night was a much more civilized affair, we had a meal and drank a toast in fizzy water.
The wedding ceremony was in an Orthodox church in Asmara on Saturday and Sami and Helen were among four couples who were being married that morning at seven o’clock , at the same time rather than one after the other. The church ceremony was a very beautiful, moving experience. There was much ululating from the women as the couples arrived, all wearing traditional cloaks over the wedding dresses and suits. Ulualating is a way of giving vent to happy joyous feelings verbally, it’s a sound only made by women, and it’s very difficult to describe. (sort of a very high pitched lalalalalalala.) I joined my women friends and covered my head and removed my shoes to enter the church on the right hand side, although once the service started men and women moved around a bit. The church was a mass of white. The traditional clothes for the women is a long white dress (nuria) and a white headscarf (netsela). You see it all the time on the streets but for special occasions women wear very beautiful versions with coloured embroidery. A lot of chanting, drums, incense and very bright colours everywhere. The walls were covered in paintings and just before the actual marriage vows the brides and grooms were dressed in yet another cloak, this one of every imaginable sparkling colour. There was much chanting by the priests (there seemed to be one main man in charge and a lot of more minor ones.)After the vows there was a huge procession round the church led by the newly married couples and rhythmic drumming. Everyone followed slowly behind with loud ululation again.
Then photos, photos and more photos. Sami and Helen drove off with the immediate family for the traditional slow drive round the main streets of Asmara behind a truck carrying the man filming them. This is a very common sight around the streets of the city every weekend. I’m told they then went off for more photos in a picturesque setting. We however headed for breakfast and coffee.
There was a big party in the evening, much ululation (again) as the couple arrived at the hotel, and then traditional food (injera) and drink (miess and sewer) and dancing (this involves a lot of shoulder movement while keeping the rest of the body still, and slowly moving round in a circle. It’s good fun once you get into it.) It was all still happening at midnight.
It was a very good day. Traditionally there is visiting of the bride and groom and more ceremony on the Sunday. We’re having a day at home doing not very much at all.
We have weaver nests in the palm trees in the garden.
C
The wedding ceremony was in an Orthodox church in Asmara on Saturday and Sami and Helen were among four couples who were being married that morning at seven o’clock , at the same time rather than one after the other. The church ceremony was a very beautiful, moving experience. There was much ululating from the women as the couples arrived, all wearing traditional cloaks over the wedding dresses and suits. Ulualating is a way of giving vent to happy joyous feelings verbally, it’s a sound only made by women, and it’s very difficult to describe. (sort of a very high pitched lalalalalalala.) I joined my women friends and covered my head and removed my shoes to enter the church on the right hand side, although once the service started men and women moved around a bit. The church was a mass of white. The traditional clothes for the women is a long white dress (nuria) and a white headscarf (netsela). You see it all the time on the streets but for special occasions women wear very beautiful versions with coloured embroidery. A lot of chanting, drums, incense and very bright colours everywhere. The walls were covered in paintings and just before the actual marriage vows the brides and grooms were dressed in yet another cloak, this one of every imaginable sparkling colour. There was much chanting by the priests (there seemed to be one main man in charge and a lot of more minor ones.)After the vows there was a huge procession round the church led by the newly married couples and rhythmic drumming. Everyone followed slowly behind with loud ululation again.
Then photos, photos and more photos. Sami and Helen drove off with the immediate family for the traditional slow drive round the main streets of Asmara behind a truck carrying the man filming them. This is a very common sight around the streets of the city every weekend. I’m told they then went off for more photos in a picturesque setting. We however headed for breakfast and coffee.
There was a big party in the evening, much ululation (again) as the couple arrived at the hotel, and then traditional food (injera) and drink (miess and sewer) and dancing (this involves a lot of shoulder movement while keeping the rest of the body still, and slowly moving round in a circle. It’s good fun once you get into it.) It was all still happening at midnight.
It was a very good day. Traditionally there is visiting of the bride and groom and more ceremony on the Sunday. We’re having a day at home doing not very much at all.
We have weaver nests in the palm trees in the garden.
C
Water again
We've written about water before. Living in Asmara we have a much easier life than people living in the villages. For that reason I'm going to quote here from the writings of another volunteer, Joe, who has lived in a small village for the last 18 months and will come to the end of his 2 year posting in the summer. He writes much more eloquently than I could.
The village pump has been broken for six months and I have, reluctantly, been left with no choice but to tell VSO not to replace me in my village when I leave. I know I did a big note about water before and I’m sorry to bang on, but the truth is I can’t help it. It dominates my life and my impression of Eritrea in a way that only the health issue comes even close to. Water access and the massive inconvenience of trekking to wells with my jerrycan at 6 a.m isn’t why I am leaving but it is a big mark in the ‘NO’ column and something I am greatly looking forward to having easy access to again.
About a month ago I was precariously balanced above a muddy, sludgy pool of water trying to fill up my jerrycan when I slipped and fell into the water. After a flash of panic (I can’t swim) I laughed aloud when I realised that the water only came up to my waist. This story is now a source of great hilarity amongst my VSO comrades and Eritrean colleagues alike, and I chuckle too; and how many people can say they’ve fallen into a well in Africa?
But it could have been much worse. Only two weeks ago a grade 3 student of my school fell into just such a well and drowned.
That boy was the sixth child under 16 years old that I know of who has died in the time that I’ve lived in my village. There may be more; double the number would not surprise me.
It is common amongst people writing about Africa to say “Life is cheaper there”. It isn’t. Eritrean mothers who lose their children grieve just as heavily as any woman but they do not abandon themselves to it in the way that we do in our culture because they do not have the luxuries of time that we have. You cry inside and out and then you pick yourself up and carry on because you have to. There are other children to feed, elderly mothers to care for, water to fetch. Animals on whom your agricultural income might depend to feed and water. Of course you will be surrounded by friends and relatives for support, at least some of whom may have been through the same trauma.
But you don’t stop. Stop your life and someone else suffers. Someone else can die.
The village pump has been broken for six months and I have, reluctantly, been left with no choice but to tell VSO not to replace me in my village when I leave. I know I did a big note about water before and I’m sorry to bang on, but the truth is I can’t help it. It dominates my life and my impression of Eritrea in a way that only the health issue comes even close to. Water access and the massive inconvenience of trekking to wells with my jerrycan at 6 a.m isn’t why I am leaving but it is a big mark in the ‘NO’ column and something I am greatly looking forward to having easy access to again.
About a month ago I was precariously balanced above a muddy, sludgy pool of water trying to fill up my jerrycan when I slipped and fell into the water. After a flash of panic (I can’t swim) I laughed aloud when I realised that the water only came up to my waist. This story is now a source of great hilarity amongst my VSO comrades and Eritrean colleagues alike, and I chuckle too; and how many people can say they’ve fallen into a well in Africa?
But it could have been much worse. Only two weeks ago a grade 3 student of my school fell into just such a well and drowned.
That boy was the sixth child under 16 years old that I know of who has died in the time that I’ve lived in my village. There may be more; double the number would not surprise me.
It is common amongst people writing about Africa to say “Life is cheaper there”. It isn’t. Eritrean mothers who lose their children grieve just as heavily as any woman but they do not abandon themselves to it in the way that we do in our culture because they do not have the luxuries of time that we have. You cry inside and out and then you pick yourself up and carry on because you have to. There are other children to feed, elderly mothers to care for, water to fetch. Animals on whom your agricultural income might depend to feed and water. Of course you will be surrounded by friends and relatives for support, at least some of whom may have been through the same trauma.
But you don’t stop. Stop your life and someone else suffers. Someone else can die.
Friday, 16 January 2009
A Weekend Away
Just back from a long weekend away from Asmara when, with a one hour hop across the Red Sea, we were transported from Africa to the Middle Eastern country of Yemen.
Yemen has the title of the poorest Arab country and, to some extent, a reputation of not being the safest place to visit but knowledge of this sometimes obscures the fact that it also has a rich history, both pre-Islamic and Islamic. We were aware that that Sana'a is steeped in that history from our research beforehand but we were still not prepared for the amazing reality of the city's tall stone houses, narrow streets and busy souks.
We spent 4 nights at the Sana'a Nights Hotel (heartily recommended as a budget option) and took a one day trip out of the city in order to see a few surrounding villages and the high mountains beyond Sana'a.
Comparisons with life in Asmara were inevitable so I'll list a few differences and save you some (boring) details:
. Bread was in abundance, was being cooked in small bakeries all the time and was on sale everywhere.
. Yemen is a strict Muslim country and one of the consequences is that Yemeni women are always veiled in public - this doesn't, apparently, stop them from getting on their mobiles and pursuing the man of their dreams when necessary (as witnessed by the several phonecalls to our young driver during our day trip).
. Sana'a is a very busy place with a lot of traffic; particularly noticable are its motorcyclists for whom slowing down seems to be regarded as a sign of weakness, it makes Asmara seem very quiet.
. A large amount of the time and energy of the average Yemeni male is spent growing, trading and chewing qat.
What we also found was that, in common with Eritrea, the people were very friendly and quite anxious that foreigners take away a good impression of their country, I lost count of the number of times "Welcome in Yemen" was shouted at us.
All in all a wonderful four days and that despite Yemenia (easily) taking first prize in the worst airline food competition.
P
Yemen has the title of the poorest Arab country and, to some extent, a reputation of not being the safest place to visit but knowledge of this sometimes obscures the fact that it also has a rich history, both pre-Islamic and Islamic. We were aware that that Sana'a is steeped in that history from our research beforehand but we were still not prepared for the amazing reality of the city's tall stone houses, narrow streets and busy souks.
We spent 4 nights at the Sana'a Nights Hotel (heartily recommended as a budget option) and took a one day trip out of the city in order to see a few surrounding villages and the high mountains beyond Sana'a.
Comparisons with life in Asmara were inevitable so I'll list a few differences and save you some (boring) details:
. Bread was in abundance, was being cooked in small bakeries all the time and was on sale everywhere.
. Yemen is a strict Muslim country and one of the consequences is that Yemeni women are always veiled in public - this doesn't, apparently, stop them from getting on their mobiles and pursuing the man of their dreams when necessary (as witnessed by the several phonecalls to our young driver during our day trip).
. Sana'a is a very busy place with a lot of traffic; particularly noticable are its motorcyclists for whom slowing down seems to be regarded as a sign of weakness, it makes Asmara seem very quiet.
. A large amount of the time and energy of the average Yemeni male is spent growing, trading and chewing qat.
What we also found was that, in common with Eritrea, the people were very friendly and quite anxious that foreigners take away a good impression of their country, I lost count of the number of times "Welcome in Yemen" was shouted at us.
All in all a wonderful four days and that despite Yemenia (easily) taking first prize in the worst airline food competition.
P
Friday, 2 January 2009
Death in Eritrea
I’ve just read an article by Jenni Russell in the Guardian about dealing with the death of a loved one and how modern day society does not include the coping mechanisms that previous generations had. In particular it’s talking about a lack of ability to communicate emotions between the bereaved, and their friends and associates. This was something I felt very strongly when my mother died 18 months ago and something which I often think about when I observe the rituals surrounding death in Eritrea.
The concept of newspaper obituaries does not exist here (they’re a bit short on newspapers too but that’s another story). A death is written about with a photo on a sheet of paper which is photocopied and put up on walls, shop windows etc. so that all passers-by can stop and read. At the home of the deceased a large tent is erected, in the compound if there is room but more often then not the tent covers most of the street outside. Any traffic simply has to take a different route. The tent, and often the road is filled with chairs. This remains for ten days. During that time people pay their respects by coming and sitting for any time. I’ve known people sit for only 5 minutes in the middle of a working day and return to sit for hours when they were able to. At the beginning of the mourning period the immediate family will sit for most of the day, giving way to tears and wailing when they needed to. People often do not feel the need to say anything to the family, sitting with them is felt to be enough.
A member of the Curriculum Department where I work died a few months ago and I accompanied my colleagues to the family house in the afternoon after the morning when she had died. I did not know her but it was felt that it was right, as I worked in the same place that I should go. We sat for thirty minutes in silence (in fact the tent was being erected around us as we sat – everyone gave a hand) and then went back to work. My colleagues returned several times over the next few days.
The situation provides a great atmosphere of empathy and support, spoken or unspoken , as the individual feels appropriate. To me it seems to bridge the gap, which I felt very acutely with my mother’s death, between a loved one being there and then suddenly not being there.
C
The concept of newspaper obituaries does not exist here (they’re a bit short on newspapers too but that’s another story). A death is written about with a photo on a sheet of paper which is photocopied and put up on walls, shop windows etc. so that all passers-by can stop and read. At the home of the deceased a large tent is erected, in the compound if there is room but more often then not the tent covers most of the street outside. Any traffic simply has to take a different route. The tent, and often the road is filled with chairs. This remains for ten days. During that time people pay their respects by coming and sitting for any time. I’ve known people sit for only 5 minutes in the middle of a working day and return to sit for hours when they were able to. At the beginning of the mourning period the immediate family will sit for most of the day, giving way to tears and wailing when they needed to. People often do not feel the need to say anything to the family, sitting with them is felt to be enough.
A member of the Curriculum Department where I work died a few months ago and I accompanied my colleagues to the family house in the afternoon after the morning when she had died. I did not know her but it was felt that it was right, as I worked in the same place that I should go. We sat for thirty minutes in silence (in fact the tent was being erected around us as we sat – everyone gave a hand) and then went back to work. My colleagues returned several times over the next few days.
The situation provides a great atmosphere of empathy and support, spoken or unspoken , as the individual feels appropriate. To me it seems to bridge the gap, which I felt very acutely with my mother’s death, between a loved one being there and then suddenly not being there.
C
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