What is Home?

 Where are you from? Where do you live? Where is Home?

At first the answer may seem to be the same to all questions, and it very well might be for some people. BUT if you are like me and hopelessly continue to seek new adventures, the answer can be a little more confusing that immediately meets the eye.

I vividly remember in my first year of university, when I was a resident of MacIsaac hall—Go MAC GO—The first time I referred to it as “home”; I was sitting in the dinning hall and said I had to go “home” and get something, and then it hit me, what is home now? Is it my 10 square foot room, which I share with my new best friend? Or is it where my parents live in New Brunswick? Now that my parents have moved from New Brunswick to Halifax it complicates this question even more and I tend to flop back and for with what I define as “home” or default to “the Maritimes”.

But this is either here nor there, the point I am looking to get to at are the steps which lead us to feel like a new space is “home”. The one big thing I find is that it is a feeling of relief in the pit of your stomach after traveling somewhere else and returning to the comfort of your new “home”. Each place I have lived for any extended period of time has had a landmark that somehow manages to subtlety scream to your insides that you are ALMOST BACK to a comfortable place where you can completely relax. In New Brunswick, it was in Hampton, or the turn where on a clear day you could see the ‘deephole’ swimming spot. While living in Antigonish it was the red barn at barneys river, in Lille it was the annoying sound that the trains would make to let you know you had arrived at Gare Lille Flandres, In Ghana it was the Market where you would turn off the main highway to go towards Ada, typically stopping at a Gas station where Kofi would fill the tank of his Subaru... And here in Addis, in its own weird way it’s the traffic, but more specifically the grain silo’s close at the junction by the entrance to the city. The first time this happens in a new “home” it always takes me by surprise, quite pleasantly though I might add.

This sense of “home” I have found usually come at the same time as things start to have a proper “place”, you know where you put your keys, or if the measuring cups aren’t in the ‘right’ drawer. I personally feel like the moments when you realize you have made a new place a home, is one of the most satisfying about traveling and living abroad. You realize that no matter the circumstance you can “make it work”. I also think it speaks volumes of the people who you are living with and the locals. Because they can either speed up or slow down the process, if they are helpful or a pain.

For lack of a better explanation it’s having established ways of navigating daily life or a routine. So why am I writing this now? Because after being in Yabello for one week I felt that sense of comfort driving back into the chaotic streets of Addis Ababa. And then again, when showing Adam (our coordinator from the Coady) around Addis, I was once again reminded that this crazy city, which in my first few weeks left my head spinning, had in fact become my home.  

I honestly feel that one of the greatest things about going away is not only that you are able to experience new things, but that you are able to appreciate the people who are rocks in your life so much more when you're away from them.

I am set to travel to Southern Ethiopia (likely without internet) until the 23^rd of August; not only am I looking forward to the amazing experience that I anticipate in and of itself, but I am also excited to return to what I now know as my “home” in Addis Ababa.

Sending all my love from Addis,

Steph x

And as always, even if I may not be able to respond for a while, please feel free to get in touch via my e-mail: steph.milo.mackinnon@gmail.com

Hakuna Matata

 Yabello in the distance

Red Soil that reminds me of PEI
minus the SUPER dry factor...

As a child, the lion king was one of my all-time favorite movies—perhaps not to the same extend of one of my good friend’s whose parents recount how she watched it on repeat waiting for her older sister to return home when she first started school!—nonetheless I knew every word to every song and always dreaded the scene when Mufasa was  trampled to death! As a child I saw the ‘Lion Kingdom’ as a far off, distant, or imagined land. Last week myself and four coworkers made the TWELVE hour journey to Yabello in Southern Ethiopia( Aprx 200km from Kenya). I had never been to a similar area, with Acacia trees and termite towers, sparsely dispersed across the arid plains of red soil, cratered along the edges of the road as evidence of the rainy season which ended a month early, and the mountains in the distance. Yet, on the way to visit a community project just outside of the main town, there was one particular turn we took, where the narrow road hugged the corner of a mountain which overlooked the entire valley bellow and as CHEESY as it sounds I was brought back to my childhood and instantly thought of the famous scene where Mufasa sat looking over the rich land beyond him and Simba and said ‘Everywhere the light touches, this is our kingdom’. It was one of those moments where you have to ask yourself “Is this real life”? Or who am I to be so fortunate to experience such variety in life? This particular day I was tasked with interviewing two members of a Gum and Incense cooperative group. I was thrilled to be able to finally put a human face and personal stories to the program reports I had been reviewing in the office.

A termite creation...

Interviewing someone—asking open ended questions and trying to make someone feel comfortable enough to share the details of their reality— in ones native tongue is a challenge in and of itself, working with a translator added an extra layer of interesting to the process! But as the morning drew on, I gradually became more comfortable with the process and am hopeful that the case stories I will write from the material gained will to justice and adequately represent the work and learning’s of those I interviewed!

One of the coop-women asked if we
could take a picture! 

Working with the translator was hardly my only encounter with language immersion. While I am doing my best to pick up the basics of Amharic (and can now hear many familiar words if I listen closely enough to conversations around me!) I would be lying if I didn’t say that I had NO IDEA what the plan was 85% of the time we were away. All of the co-workers I was with were Ethiopian and while they would do their best to include me in conversation, I found that people naturally return to their native language, especially when tired.  My friend and I joke that experiences such as having no idea why the car is pulling over, or finding out that the reason you never received a menu at lunch was because you have been ordered a traditional meal already, will only serve to make us the most easy going people possible! While I still haven’t be able to let go completely of trying to figure out what’s happening, I try to limit the amount of questions I ask knowing that my coworkers have thus far only had my best interest in mind. I am also hopeful that if I keep practicing my Amharic, by the end of my stay I will know without having to ask that when we randomly pull over on the side of the highway its because someone wants to buy strawberries!

On another note, Yabello also extended my questioning of the relationship between Ethiopians and outsiders/ International organizations… what role do we play? The Borena Zone of Southern Ethiopia, where Yabello is located, is highly drought prone and as a result is one of the areas with a high density of AID organizations and NGOs. To paint the picture a little more, on the 7km drive from the main highway to the town center there are field offices for; UNFAO, World Vision, Save the Children, USAID and a few other less known organizations.

What is a group of camels
called? A herd?

The image which resonates in my mind and really hammered home this whole idea of a clash of worlds for me was a local man walking down the side of the road with his two camels who were carrying a   What were the stipulations? As always many, many questions and very few answers was what I was left with. Needless to say I wont soon forget those two camels.

load (bear in mind that while on its own this is a new visual for me! it is typical of the area) but furthermore upon closer examination I noticed that the packs the camels were carrying were labeled USAID. A flurry of questions instantly flew threw my mind; how long has this man been receiving AID? What was in the pack? Would be starve without the assistance? Was it creating dependence?

Much love,

Steph x

As always if you have any comments or questions please feel free to e-mail me at: 

steph.milo.mackinnon@gmail.com

Just a couple of pictures of the Amaro Mountainside on route to Yabello (aprx 150-200km closer to Addis) and some donkeys...

Cultural Crossroads

One of the benefits of being in Ethiopia is that it is very much situated at a cross-roads; not only in terms of some of the worlds great religions, but also culturally. Baring influences from North and East Africa as well as the Middle East. This religious diversity shows its face in the countries many rich historical sites from Lalibella- which boast a collection of famous  12^th/13^th Century monolithic rock-cut churches (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lalibela), to Axum, which is where many believe the Holy Grail is housed (http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/15)  and Harar in  the East is acclaimed as the Fourth holiest city for Muslims after Mecca/Medina/Jerusalem.

So what does all of this diversity mean for me on a daily basis, as I am living in Addis not amongst the churches or historical walled cities? Honestly it means a lot of things, but on a simple level it means A LOT of different types of food readily available! Yes I have finally decided to write about food!

Earlier this week, I went out for an awesome Lebanese meal with some other intern friends. It turns out that another man living in our compound is actually a Lebanese man who works/sings at the Restaurant, he invited out German friends to the Restaurant on Monday and so the event was set. Naturally we then invited our friend Yasmine, who is also a CIDA intern but grew up in Beirut. Her presence at dinner was a MASSIVE asset! When she first spoke Arabic to the restaurant manager his face light up and they both immediately started speaking a million miles a minute, hands enthusiastically moving at the same pace… if you thought Italians spoke with their hands a lot, you obviously haven’t encountered an excited Lebanese exchange!

The rest of us sat and watched the exchange without a clue of what was being discussed… something we have all grown used to living/working in a foreign city. We had faith in Yasmine though, as she had given us a mouth-watering description of every item on the menu, with details of how it’s prepartion/presentation differs from region to region. Eventually the excited manager left and Yasmine caught us up! A ton of appetizers, Mezzas, were ordered and soon after came with enough pita bread to sink a ship. We also learned that you are to separate the sides of the bread and use them to eat the different delicious apps; which ranged from Tabouleh, to a bean dish, hummus, babaganoush and many others. I also learned that LEMON is beyond key, and an absence of olives is almost insulting!

The experience overall was fantastic, it was quite possibly the most delicious meal, with the most diverse amount of flavors I have had since being in Addis. I also feel very fortunate to have found a friend in Yasmine as she is very eager to tell stories of Lebanon and its culture and I am eager to learn. My grandfather’s parents emigrated from Northern Lebanon and while I have very fond childhood memories of huge family gatherings with obnoxious amounts of food, I feel that as the family has aged I have very much lost touch with my Lebanese roots! Who would have known I would reconnect with them while in Addis?

Lebanese food is however only one of the many options available here in Addis. Within walking distance from my office/home there is German, French, Armenian, and TONS of Italian food available. I never ever thought I would say it but I may actually be tired of Pasta and Pizza by the time I leave! But lets be honest, the best pizza I have had thus far, is conveniently served in the building directly beside my office! 

And yes ETHIOPIAN food. I have been saving the best for last! It is its own unique can of worms. First I think it is necessary to describe the staple food; injera. It looks like a biiiiiig pancake, kind of? But in reality it is a thin, often incredibly yeasty bread. It is served on a big silver platter, where you unroll it and pour different sauces (wot’s) on top. The best part, and the most difficult at first, is that you eat it WITH YOUR HANDS, you pull off pieces of injera  and dip it in the sauce/pick up pieces of meat or veggies. Ethiopians, who have been eating injera their entire lives make this practice look effortless. It is definitely not as easy as it looks, especially as it is considered rude if your left hand touches your food! 

Another interesting aspect of Ethiopian dinning culture is the many, many fasting days (Both Orthodox and Muslim). At first I thought this meant NO eating. But the reality is that it means no animal products… aka vegan. There are long fasting periods, which last for weeks, but every Wednesday and Friday are also fasting days. This has proven to make life easy when choosing to dine out Ethiopian style, as it is much easier to say you are fasting in a foreign language than explain why you just do not want to eat meat for fear it may upset your stomach -definitely less culturally offensive! And the fasting dish, Fasting Bianatu, is amazing! You get a big tray of Injera with six different Vegan sauces to dip into; two lentil variations, pickled beets, potatoes and spinach amongst other things. All Ethiopians feel the need to warn the foreigners that the food will be “spicy” and yes they like to throw in the odd hot pepper, but as foreigners we have to be careful that they don’t just eliminate the peppers for fear it will be too hot for us!

Now the Coffee, an Ethiopian meal would not be complete without a proper coffee ceremony to cap it all off. When I first heard coffee ceremony, yes I expected elaborate dancing and singing centered around coffee… but I was way off. Nonetheless it is still great, the coffee beans are roasted and ground down on the spot and then warmed in a traditional clay pot. When it is ready to be served a women, often traditionally dressed will bring the clay pot, with incents and popcorn to your table, carefully pouring coffee into each espresso sized cups.

Each region boasts its coffee’s superiority. I have realized that not only is the coffee substantially stronger here BUT also that there are many different types of coffee, much like I only understand the basics of Wine, my palate is unable to note the discrete differences between the different types of coffee. However, I do enjoy my morning Macchiato which sets me back aprx. 50c Canadian. It took me about a week to realize why the Macchiato my co-workers would order for me were substantially better than ones I ordered myself. Much like the spicy issue, I realized that the servers’ assumed I wanted more milk than coffee. I have since learned the Amharic word for “black” Macchiato, ‘Tocar’ and needless to say it has made my Macchiato experience consistently more enjoyable, and often allows the server an opportunity to laugh at my pitiful attempt to pronounce the word!

Much love,

Steph x

As always if you have any comments or questions please feel free to send me an e-mail at: steph.milo.mackinnon@gmail.com 

Thanks again to all who have:) 

Mountains Beyond Mountains - A taste of Southern Ethiopia

I would never describe myself as an art enthusiast, yet when traveling I tend to migrate to the classic ‘must see’ museums. And while I would be lying if I said I understood even a fraction of the art I’ve seen, I have appreciated it. One of the particular exhibits that continues to stand out in my memory was that of Salvador Dali’s in Montmartre, Paris. It was a simple, modest set up located amidst narrow winding streets, coffee shops, colorful graffiti walls and overgrown ivy. Well the character of the neighborhood distinguished the experience in and of itself if was my understanding of Dali’s notion of time that stuck with me the most. His famous melting clock appears in many of his famous pieces but it first appeared in his piece titled ‘The Persistence of Memory’.

'The Persistence of Memory'

The caption under the sculpture reads:

 As the watch liquefies over the tree, it forms into a human profile, underlying the interminable relationship between man and time. The unexpected softness of the watch also represents the psychological aspect whereby time, whilst considered to be precise and fixed in its nature, can, in fact vary significantly in human perception. All men must bend to the passing of time.

My third row oasis 

So where does Dali fit into my experience in Ethiopia? Well last week myself and four other Oxfam staff made the 450km journey to Amaro for the inauguration of a 'Bulla'* Processing Center. As we drove the winding road through the lush green mountainous Ethiopian countryside I became lost in my thoughts while lounging in my third row set up. On June 1st I boarded the plan in Halifax, while I was filled with nerves and excitement for the journey that lay ahead, I also had to take many deep breaths and try to convince myself that six months wasn't the eternity it felt like in that moment. Sitting in the third row of Oxfam's SUV I found it hard to fathom that an entire month of my stay had already flown by! Ethiopia has quickly come to feel like my home and December often feels like it is just around the corner. Thus rather than wondering how I will make it until then, I find myself asking if I will be able to see and do all the things I'd like to in such a 'SHORT amount of time'.

Around Dilla on route to Amaro

While Dali's notion of time lingered in my thoughts, curious as how it was possible that this shift in my perception of time had occurred, other ideas from my past also flowed through my wondering mind. I firmly believe our experiences shape the way we view the world and I feel incredible fortunate to continue to have experiences, which challenge my perspective of the world. My question however is, what makes certain memories or moments stick? Or in other words become part of our framework shaping the way we view the world, while others pass us by never to be considered again.

Camels hanging out.. 

While I feel more than incapable of answering this question I couldn’t help but feel that as we continued to wind down the road –passing all sorts of new visuals for me, from camels stopping for a snack, to young men playing ping-pong with there donkey impassively watching beside them—my thoughts instantly went to a childhood road trip game when I saw a white horse. As kids our parents always told my brother and I that if you saw a white horse it was good luck to keep your fingers crossed until you saw a dog. My brother and I would silently peer out the window as the minutes of the journey passed by. Years later, to our disappointment, we found out it was one of our parents creative tricks to keep us quite/ calm us down on long drives, one if I may say so myself that proved to be substantially more effective than ‘lets see who can be quiet the longest’. Regardless of the fact that I knew it was all a myth, I childishly kept my fingers crossed, eyes peeling for a dog. This made me think that there are certain aspects of life that are able to transgress borders, oceans, ethnicities, religions and languages. Perhaps it was a childish sense of family I was craving while in the Ethiopian Mountains thousands of miles from the salty shores of Nova Scotia, its hard to say really... but I do know that if my parents early tricks to keep my brother and I quite were true BOY would I be a lucky girl! There are a LOT of white horses and dogs between Addis and Amaro :)

Tasha and I in Amaro! 

Aside from being lost in my own head there were plenty of things that made the three day journey more than enjoyable! I have realized that trying to learn new Amharic words is always a source of great laughter even if it is directed at me. Ones of my favorite words I learned while in Ghana was Ngolo, this translates to LIAR, a word one shouldn’t casually throw around, as honor and respect are of the utmost importance in many Ghanaian cultures. But with my minimal (at best) grasp of the Dangme language I used to use the word ‘Ngolo’ as my basic humor tool. When I told this story to my Ethiopian colleagues with whom I traveled, they thought it was a riot to say the least and immediately took to teaching me less than relevant Amharic words, starting naturally with liar and moved too things such as “shhh” “watch yourself” and “im done with you” which is expressed in one quick sound, that I am told is NOT a ‘T’ sound but am convinced the sound does not exist in english… to me it sounds like “et-ch”. My language lessons.. or the game of 'lets see if the foreigner can say this one' created perpetual laughter in the car as we drove along. And even though the majority of the laughs were at my expense I do feel that I have actually picked up a bit more Amharic in the process and I very much look forward to my next visit to the field-- which I am told could be as early as next week! 

Amaro women demonstrating new technologies

The inauguration we attended was also quite nice, it was wonderful to bare witness to the celebration of  a project successful completion. There were many more people in attendance than I had anticipated prior to arriving (aprx 75). They were all sorts of representatives from partner organizations, government officials and Amaro community members. Those present had participated in the various phases of the Agricultural projects in Amaro. The day was a celebration of much more than solely a processing centre. The projects in Amaro, spearheaded by Agri Service Ethiopia, had included many training and educational sections and all those involved we hopeful for the future impact on the community! 

As always please feel free to send me your thoughts, questions, comments etc! steph.milo.mackinnon@gmail.com

Much love,
Steph xx

Sweet Home Addis Ababa

Those of you who know me well, know that one of my main concerns, prior to beginning this adventure of a life time, was to not become engulfed in an 'expat life'; living in Addis the same way I would live in Halifax. While I have hardly come to abandon this idea, I feel it may need a little re-shapping. My naivety prior to my arrival in Addis lead me to believe, that as much as I did not want to think of the expat community as a homogenous group, I had. I had imagined them to be people who were uninterested in learning about Ethiopia even though they lived there... While it would be a blatant lie to say these individuals do not exist, it is a far cry from the attitude that permeates the community.

The similarity which binds the expat community together is the obvious fact that none of them are from the country in which they currently live; yet, this seems to be where the guaranteed similarities end. In my brief experience, I however think it is safe to say that anyone who is willing to leave their original home and find one else where must be at least a little adventurous.

Last Thursday, through a friend of a friend, I found myself at a local 'expat bar' known as a Guy's Bar, (Guy turned out to be a very friendly French man, who was in fact in attendance). There was an old expat band playing a special show this night. My understanding was that they had moved away from Addis a few years ago and were using this show as a Reunion of sorts. The band was made up of a German guitarist, a Bavarian base player a Belgian drummer and two singers; British and Irish respectively. They came together to play some classic rock covers. The band went by the name of Ishee Backa Cio  which literally translates to okay enough bye and is the first thing any expat will typically learn upon arriving in Addis. I immediately felt comforted by the familiarity of the songs they were playing; as well as the fact that I was surrounded by others who also knew all the words to the likes of Sultans of Swing, Paint it Black and Sweet Home Alabama.. which they changed to Sweet Home Addis Ababa for the occasion. 

While I originally felt like I was "cheating" in my experience by attending such an event, as life abroad 'shouldn't be this easy'... I realize in looking back, that it is not something which I must escape, rather another aspect of life that I should balance. Everything in moderation. The night Ishee Backa Cio played at Guy's bar I met many amazing people who had interesting and unique life experiences to share and build upon; from an Ethiopian girl about my age who has been studying engineering to a Portuguese free lance conference translator who is fluent in god knows how many languages, as well as  other interns my age. I realized that to completely cut myself out from this diverse world of expats would be to rob myself of a whole other set of life experiences and stories. 

While the reality of the expat community is still one which perplexes me, and leaves me incredibly curious to learn more about the people and their stories and how it all fits into life in Ethiopia, I am by no means about to run towards it forgetting the other wonderful relationships I have developed with co-workers who are quickly becoming good friends. I wouldn't trade my morning macchiato sessions or friday evening beers with my coworkers for the world. I feel so fortunate to have this time with them, it is when I learn most of my Amharic (Ethiopian National language), and where I have time to ask about the culture and most importantly where I laugh so hard I almost cry-- which I think is the foundation of any great friendship.. even if the laughter is at my expense!

I am however slowly coming to terms with the fact, although it isn't easy for me to accept, I do not have to choose one of the other. Its all about balance. 

As always please feel free to get in touch with me via e-mail: steph.milo.mackinnon@gmail.com and let me know if you have any questions or comments:)

Much love,

Steph xx

To the Field!

      Yesterday I accompanied three of my colleagues to Weilso, a community aprx 100km West-ish of Addis…we were checking out the progress of a rural women’s empowerment project.  The journey was quite surreal for me; I found myself in a vehicle with three other Oxfam staff, driving through the Ethiopian countryside discussing family, life etc, but the conversations that I really enjoyed were the ones around development. I felt so privileged to be in the company of people who were passionately committed to achieving realities for their country I had more or less only read about in articles or discussed in classes. The discussion touched on how the majority of the early development in African nations had been put in place to export their raw materials to the West; my colleagues naturally expressed their frustrations with a lack of connectivity within Africa. While this discussion was not new information to me it was exciting to hear that although initial developments were made solely with the intention of exporting raw materials, there are efforts underway to create routes for internal trade (highways for example). Another interesting conversation was around the impact of the Arab spring on the AU*.

There were multiple layers to the sense of privilege I felt yesterday. One was how fortune I felt to experience the realities I had studied and to be able to see the character of the rural area through which we traveled; the way the houses are constructed, the toys the children play with, the colorful fabrics used as saddles for horses and the Acacia Trees (YES they made me think of Rafiki and the Lion King..) that sprawled the vast farmland, with the mountains filling in the distant landscape.

 Then there was another side of the privilege I felt; the one which is somewhat more daunting and harder to process. WHO THE EF AM I TO BE HERE?  And why was I so lucky to be born into an incredibly supportive family? I am soooo thankful for the family, the friends, the upbringing and opportunities I’ve had. But why do I get to have this privilege while others did not? I've found that the privilege and security I've felt in my young life has left me incapable of completely comprehending poverty…

The same thing happened with me in Ghana and it I hadn’t realized until recently that it was happening here as well... But thankfully I have since recognized some of my own hypocrisy; I have been continually questioning what fellow “Forengi’s”(foreigners) stories were, but I wasn’t asking myself what the back-story was behind the boys who try to shine my shoes, sell me a phone card or simply ask me for money. I was too busy trying to avoid eye contact and not have my wallet picked out of my pocket.   While I cannot comprehend the reality of these children, I would like to say that I understand that they have more than a ‘single story’ (see one of my favorite Ted Talk Videos: http://blog.ted.com/2009/10/07/the_danger_of_a/ ). One of my major pet peeves is when someone’s reality is painted with one broad brushstroke of “poor”. These boys may be poor by I am sure they are more than just that, they have personalities, friends, probably a favorite sport either to watch or play, they are people too and they are multifaceted just like anyone else, they just live a completely different reality than me… one which I am increasingly intrigued by.

I also raise the point of children, because of the contrast of my encounter with the children in Weilso. My skin attracted as much if not more attention than walking down the street in Addis, but the atmosphere was much different. I attracted a following of 20-25 children who gawked at me, eyes wide with curiosity, as we walked through the town. I would turn around to check my posse’s status and notice that most of children we passed had also joined the crew. None of these children asked anything of me; expect for one girl, who practiced her English and asked my name. Instead they giggled at my pathetic attempts to greet them in Amharic and at my trying attempt to play with this toy they all had—where you had to balance a rubber wheel with a stick as it rolled. I left the community feeling a refreshed sense of faith in the spirit of children, but also realizing (that from my perspective) the children in the city seemed to be robbed of this period of their life, that for many is characterized by carefree giggles.

     On another note, I find that when people have something echoing in their mind, everything else in their life seems to be reflected through that particular lens? If you become hooked on a TV series or burry yourself deep into the plot of a book or perhaps a video game, everything around you seems to remind you of that “thing” that is already consuming your thoughts. While my thoughts remain to be consumed by the questions I posed in my last blog around “why are we all here in Addis?” Last night while I was waiting for my dinner to finish cooking, I had my ITunes on shuffle (as I typically do when I cook) and ‘Patience’ by – Nas And Damian Marley  came on.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tAo9vMyUXwQ 

Now I credit my brother, Ian, for the fact that this was on my computer to begin with, as he supplies the majority of the music in my life and for that I am eternally grateful! But I had never really listened to the words of this song before, it was the section that follows which really pulled me back to the thoughts I have while walking by all those embassies in the morning.

The section is as follows:

Some of the smartest dummies

Can't read the language of Egyptian mummies

An' a fly go a moon

And can't find food for the starving tummies

Pay no mind to the youths

Cause it's not like the future depends on it

But save the animals in the zoo

Cause the chimpanzee dem a make big money

This is how the media pillages

On the TV the picture is

Savages in villages

And the scientist still can't explain the pyramids, huh

Evangelists making a living on the videos of ribs of the little kids

Stereotyping the image of the images

And this is what the image is

I would like to acknowledge that this is ONE perspective of an artist and I posted it not necessarily because I agree with it, but because it provoked me to continue to think about the diplomatic dynamic in Addis. 

Thanks again to those who e-mail! It was more than appreciated!

Again my address is steph.milo.mackinnon@gmail.com

ALSO I think I fixed a security setting so that COMMENTS ARE NOW POSSIBLE! So giver a shot if you like!

Cheers,

Stephanie :)

-----------------------

* For those interest in the impact of the Arab Spring on the AU my colleague sent me this article http://nai.diva-portal.org/smash/record.jsf?pid=diva2:622198 on the topic.  It is from this that the following quote is taken;

“As the host country for the AU headquarters and the seat of various multilaterally and bilaterally accredited missions, delegations and institutions, Addis Ababa is the diplomatic hub of Africa… The close to 500 embassies, diplomatic missions and international organizations from all over the world accredited to the AU and Ethiopia make Addis Ababa one of the five biggest diplomatic concentrations in the world…”

I included this to show that I seem to have seriously underestimated the players present in this mystifying African metropolis in which I am now living…

Embassies Everywhere!

Sheena is a good friend of mine who I worked with last summer in Ghana. She once said to me that each time you leave home to go work/study abroad it gets easier, while the return home becomes more difficult.  This statement initially confused me, but as a dealt with reverse culture shock during my return to Canada last September, I felt very much unable to relate to the people around me/my immediate reality in small town Nova Scotia. In hindsight it was the conflict I felt was around how to portray my experience and the responsibility I felt towards how I would describe the people who had very much become my Ghanaian family. I did not want to perpetuate stereotypes of poverty as their only reality, but I also did not want to romanticize a truth and gloss over the trials and tribulations that have been internalized as a daily part of their lives. It was attempting to find this balance that left me feeling quite lost in my own head, while the world carried on around me. Thus, much of my motivation in writing this blog is to try and bridge the gap between the things I experience while abroad and break down the stereotypes of a single story of poverty, famine and neediness, in a hope that it will make my shift back into Canadian life all the more smooth.

The other side of Sheena’s theory, the growing ease of leaving, seems to be ringing true for me at this point.  I am not sure if it is that I have started to develop a system or a routine where by I almost come to anticipate the unexpected or if this time I am living in a much larger city with access to basically anything I want within reason? Whatever the case, it almost feels like this has been too easy. Those who study culture shock may read this and laugh, saying I am merely in the ‘honeymoon stage’ and that in a week or so my reality will smack me in the face and I will really feel it, but for now I will just have to wait and see!

There are however still a number of things that which regularly remind me I am not in Nova Scotia anymore.  At home when I walk almost anywhere alone I tend to plug in my Ipod and let myself get lost in the music. Yet I do not quite feel comfortable flashing around an Ipod on streets that are notorious for pick-pocketers. So during my morning walk to work, I have found that in the absence of music, my thoughts have tended to wonder to all sorts of places. My first days I was more concerned with landmarks for the sake of knowing if I was heading in the right direction, yet as the week has gone on I really thought about what some of these buildings were. I kid you not in my short commute I walk by at least ten embassies; Denmark, Luxembourg, Zimbabwe, Djibouti, Sudan, Romania, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Portugal and Tunisia (talk about an eclectic mix!). There are also a number of unique license plates. In Canada I’m sure everyone has noticed the special plates for volunteer firefighters, while here the unique plates seem to be infinite. There are region codes similar to how we have specific provincial plates, yet in addition there are also United Nations and African Union special plates and others with numbers from 1-100, separate from the rest of the plate number.  I am told that these are diplomatic vehicles and each number represents a country. Thus there are over 100 countries represented in the city. This also means that the embassies I pass on my way to the office represent only a fraction of those present in the city (The Americans naturally have a small city built in the mountains..haha)

All of this made me wonder; how it came to this point? How has Addis become such a hub of international organizations and representatives? It was evident to me early on when I realized that although I was in an African capital I could realistically access any material thing I really desired, it was just a matter of difficulty and time it may take. The question continues to ring true to me; why is everyone here? Have these organizations and individuals come in an attempt to support the growth of the Ethiopian economy and participate in its ‘development’? Ethiopia was after all the only African nation to never undergo colonization. They are proud and hardworking people who are known to stand up for what they think is important. Is it this attitude that has drawn in such a large percentage of international organizations and diplomatic representation? Or do they hide under the mask of their diplomatic words and leach the benefit from the years of famine? It is after all the stories of famine that resonate in many Westerner’s minds when they hear the name ‘Ethiopia’. In basic economic classes (because lets be honest that’s as far as I ever made it with econ), they explain that economies do better in times of war. While my current context is hardly war, do development workers solely feed off of the demand that comes with crisis, I guess is what I am asking?

         I do not think in my naive and idealistically biased opinion, that it is entirely one or the other; that both exist but many are working in a grey space in-between, realistically needed to keep themselves afloat but trying to engage in positive change actions.  In bringing up this discussion I feel I am attempting to artificially categorize a reality, which is far more complex and circumstantial than can be bit into a box and labeled as a ‘Reality’ of international/foreign workers in Addis. Nonetheless, stepping outside of examining the motivation it has created quite a unique dynamic of individuals, groups, organizations, institutes and diplomats working in development and living in Addis. I am intrigued to discover more about this dynamic, and have to be honest; whenever I see another Forengi (foreigner) walking down the street I can’t help but wonder ‘what brought you here?’

As the weekend is approaching I sure I will have some more funny stories for next week! Word on the street is that the comment boxes are basically impossible to use! So if anyone would like to get in touch with me please feel free to drop me a note at steph.milo.mackinnon@gmail.com I would love to hear from you!