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
Monday, 26 January 2009
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
Tuesday, 30 December 2008
Happy New Year
The VSO party was held on Christmas eve and, despite minimal alcohol, went very well (secret santa, a Christmas quiz and carol singing being the highlights). On Christmas day itself about twenty of us went to the Albergo Italia, formerly the Keren Hotel, for a meal (not a traditional Christmas one but really good all the same).
On Boxing Day we headed out to spend a couple of nights in Massawa on Eritrea's Red Sea coast. We splashed out and hired a private minibus for our group of 10 (8 volunteers and two visitors) and we travelled via Filfil, Eritrea's cloud-forest area and most spectacular route.
Down at the coast it's much warmer than in Asmara just now, a very pleasant 30C, and we found the Red Sea easily warm enough to swim in and to snorkel around the small coral reefs adjacent to "Green Island" just off Massawa.
We also spent one evening eating fresh fish in the open air at the Salam Restaurant, Massawa. Selected individually, gutted, then cooked over an open fire before being served whole, the fish was absolutely delicious, although one of our number (who shall remain nameless) had to cover the eye of hers with a piece of bread before she could eat. For some reason the greater part of Massawa's cat population was in attendance at our table, all adding to the atmosphere.
We're getting close to the end of our first year in Asmara and, of course, it's nearly 2009 so all the best to everyone for the New Year and let's hope everyhing gets better in terms of the global economy.
For ourselves we don't really have much in the way of wishes for the New Year it's just that we hope to be able to continue here until the end of our respective placements (end of 2009 or early 2010) and after that who knows? It looks as if I may have to accept that there won't be another City of London job, so more volunteering / NGO work may be on the cards.
For Eritrea it's more difficult to express wishes for the New Year without overt criticism and that we're not going to do in accordance with our wish to remain here in 2009. So we'll just say that we hope for some reverse in the current downward trends, that we hope that Eritrea's youth will have more opportunity to use their education in their home country, that we hope that Eritrea's people will be allowed to follow their faith (no matter which one,) that we hope that there will be more freedom of expression allowed and we hope that everyone in the country will have enough to eat in 2009.
Rhus Hadish Amet!
P and C
On Boxing Day we headed out to spend a couple of nights in Massawa on Eritrea's Red Sea coast. We splashed out and hired a private minibus for our group of 10 (8 volunteers and two visitors) and we travelled via Filfil, Eritrea's cloud-forest area and most spectacular route.
Down at the coast it's much warmer than in Asmara just now, a very pleasant 30C, and we found the Red Sea easily warm enough to swim in and to snorkel around the small coral reefs adjacent to "Green Island" just off Massawa.
We also spent one evening eating fresh fish in the open air at the Salam Restaurant, Massawa. Selected individually, gutted, then cooked over an open fire before being served whole, the fish was absolutely delicious, although one of our number (who shall remain nameless) had to cover the eye of hers with a piece of bread before she could eat. For some reason the greater part of Massawa's cat population was in attendance at our table, all adding to the atmosphere.
We're getting close to the end of our first year in Asmara and, of course, it's nearly 2009 so all the best to everyone for the New Year and let's hope everyhing gets better in terms of the global economy.
For ourselves we don't really have much in the way of wishes for the New Year it's just that we hope to be able to continue here until the end of our respective placements (end of 2009 or early 2010) and after that who knows? It looks as if I may have to accept that there won't be another City of London job, so more volunteering / NGO work may be on the cards.
For Eritrea it's more difficult to express wishes for the New Year without overt criticism and that we're not going to do in accordance with our wish to remain here in 2009. So we'll just say that we hope for some reverse in the current downward trends, that we hope that Eritrea's youth will have more opportunity to use their education in their home country, that we hope that Eritrea's people will be allowed to follow their faith (no matter which one,) that we hope that there will be more freedom of expression allowed and we hope that everyone in the country will have enough to eat in 2009.
Rhus Hadish Amet!
P and C
Wednesday, 24 December 2008
24th December 2008
So it’s Christmas Eve in Asmara and much more Christmasy than you might think – there’s tinsel and decorated trees everywhere, and I’m wished a Happy Christmas by everyone I speak to, regardless of their faith. There’s a VSO Christmas party tonight and a big group of us are having lunch out tomorrow. We’ve taken Friday off and ten of us are heading down to Massawa for the weekend.
Almost half way through our posting here. Time flies etc. etc.
A very Happy Christmas to all our readers!
C
Almost half way through our posting here. Time flies etc. etc.
A very Happy Christmas to all our readers!
C
Monday, 15 December 2008
Sunday
Sunday morning in Asmara dawns very chilly as usual, but a completely blue sky and sun means the temperature rises pretty quickly. A bit of a lie-in this morning, seems to be the only day we get one. I spend half an hour preparing my writing lesson with Henok while Phil does some revision for his Tigrigna lesson. Both of the lessons are an hour and a half from 11 and then we’re free for the day.
We decided to go for a walk today and follow the old railway line through Asmara. The railway was built by the Italians and originally ran from Massawa on the coast up to Asmara, looped around the city and then went to Keren. The only remaining functioning track is between Asmara and Nefasit (about 10k down the escarpment). We did the steam train journey there and back six months ago and a memorable journey it was. Today’s outing was a bit more mundane as very little of the track remains, in fact we only saw a couple of feet of it where it broke the surface of the dirt track, or in one case the sealed road. The most common use of the old track bed seems to be as a thoroughfare or makeshift football pitch. We almost managed to follow the track to the station but then were stopped by a stone wall which the track had no problem disappearing under so decided to call it a day and go for a cappuccino. The steam train coming up from the coast and winding its way around the art deco buildings of Asmara must have been a wonderful sight although unfortunately probably only the Italians rode the train. I don’t know this for a fact but as only the Italians were allowed to use the main Asmara roads (the Eritreans had to use the back roads) it is probably true. Another method employed by the Italians to keep the locals in their place was that Eritreans were not allowed to study beyond Grade 4 in school. The only positive thing that the British ever did for Eritrea was to include Eritreans in the full educational system.
It’s Christmas in less than a fortnight, I keep forgetting and then get reminded by a decorated Christmas tree in a shop window. It’s a strange thing to see as the Coptic Christmas, which is celebrated here is not until January 7th. The 25th December is a holiday as well so we sort of get a double Christmas.
C
We decided to go for a walk today and follow the old railway line through Asmara. The railway was built by the Italians and originally ran from Massawa on the coast up to Asmara, looped around the city and then went to Keren. The only remaining functioning track is between Asmara and Nefasit (about 10k down the escarpment). We did the steam train journey there and back six months ago and a memorable journey it was. Today’s outing was a bit more mundane as very little of the track remains, in fact we only saw a couple of feet of it where it broke the surface of the dirt track, or in one case the sealed road. The most common use of the old track bed seems to be as a thoroughfare or makeshift football pitch. We almost managed to follow the track to the station but then were stopped by a stone wall which the track had no problem disappearing under so decided to call it a day and go for a cappuccino. The steam train coming up from the coast and winding its way around the art deco buildings of Asmara must have been a wonderful sight although unfortunately probably only the Italians rode the train. I don’t know this for a fact but as only the Italians were allowed to use the main Asmara roads (the Eritreans had to use the back roads) it is probably true. Another method employed by the Italians to keep the locals in their place was that Eritreans were not allowed to study beyond Grade 4 in school. The only positive thing that the British ever did for Eritrea was to include Eritreans in the full educational system.
It’s Christmas in less than a fortnight, I keep forgetting and then get reminded by a decorated Christmas tree in a shop window. It’s a strange thing to see as the Coptic Christmas, which is celebrated here is not until January 7th. The 25th December is a holiday as well so we sort of get a double Christmas.
C
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