The Monasteries of Lake Tana

For whatever reason, up until now I’ve never gotten around to taking the popular boat tour of the monasteries on Lake Tana. The stars however seemed to align on my last trip to Bahar Dar…I had a free day…an invitation…and a nice discount courtesy of my friends at a local hotel.

For 5 hours we putsed about the south end of Lake Tana hopping from one island or peninsula to the next. There is just something about wind, waves, and the buzz of a 15HP outboard motor that is soothing to the soul.

The monasteries themselves are rustic with elaborate interior paintings. We visited four, which was one too many for me…and this included the island monastery where, as a female visitor, I was told to sit at the dock and wait lest I lead the monks into temptation.

Our tour ended with a short detour to the outlet of the Nile where I incessantly scanned the waters for hippo. I’m a huge hippo fan, but I’m sad to report that the Lake Tana hippos continue to remain elusive. At this point I’m starting to doubt their existence!

Mystery Solved

There are still sights that I encounter while I’m out and about that leave me utterly perplexed. Even though I frequently stop and ask, most of the time I walk away no less enlightened with yet another unsolved mystery to add to my ever growing list.

While walking along the road to the hospital I encountered this trio traipsing toward town carting these fascinating straw and twine barrel shaped containers. It didn’t appear to hold anything and was closed on both ends. My curiosity got the best of me and I just had to inquire. This time I actually understood the response. Would you believe that these fabulous creations are beehives??? These guys were kind enough to stop long enough for me to capture a photo, but not long enough for me to figure out exactly how these hives function. I guess I’ll just have to solve that mystery another day.

Bonding over Bowling

When we arrived at our mid-service conference and learned that our team building activity would be BOWLING we looked at each other in astonishment. Addis has a bowling alley?!?!?! Indeed it does…circa 1950. Shoes with paper-thin soles, human pin-setters, a ceiling that looked like it was held up by a prayer, and our Ethiopian PC colleagues who had never before seen a bowling alley let alone attempted to bowl, made this a truly unforgettable event. And get this….I bowled the best score of my life—236.

The bowling shoes (I’m sure that they were circa 1950 as well) added the perfect finishing touch to Liz’s ensemble.

Bowling the best score of my life was truly a feat given the head hazard that I had to factor into my approach.

Our mini-team: Dave, Megan, Nan, Me and Fisha

Although neither Megan or I consider ourselves bowling alley junkies, it was fun to do something that was not only familiar, but reminded us of home.

Visiting Megan

After nearly a year of being at site, I finally had the opportunity to visit Megan and get to know the place that she calls home….DebreTabor. It is a beautiful mountain town, a little smaller than mine and definitely colder. Right now it looks as if a natural disaster or a bomb has struck the town as the buildings along the main road have literally been halved in preparation for road widening and paving. Quite an unusual method given the back half of the buildings still stand and are in use! But, I shall not complain about the tactics as long as the asphalt comes. Traveling between Woreta and DebreTabor for 3 hours on a muddy road with ruts deep enough to swallow a car was bone jarring as well as downright scary at times and I don’t relish the thought of doing that again!

Our time together was packed with fun, food, forays, and new friends. One day we traipsed out to the prison to do a little shopping (yes, the prisoners make some of the best traditional blankets) and got caught in a torrential rainstorm. Initially we took shelter in a shed near the prison, but quickly decided it was better to be soaked to the bone than to have to deal with an over-friendly guard and an antsy ox with enormous horns!

Our culinary masterpiece for the weekend was making homemade crab and parmesan stuffed ravioli with a garlic white sauce. I’ve never even considered making my own pasta let alone ravioli, but necessity is the mother of invention. The process was tedious and lengthy and was eventually completed via candlelight and headlamp, but it was worth our effort!

My time in DebreTabor passed by quickly and before I knew it I was once again aboard the bus for my journey home. After 10 hours and 5 bus changes (some expected, most not), I arrived home. Oh, how I wish we lived closer as the journey is so excruciating!

Just some of the beautiful scenery along the way to DebreTabor

Megan makes a milk run by merely leaning over the wall that separates her from her neighbor’s cows. How convenient!

A glimpse of Megan’s home

Megan is quite the pasta chef

Yes, I know I look ridiculous, but what’s a girl to do when the power goes out!?

Hapti Graduates!

Hapti, my faithful friend whose dorm is an arm’s reach from my window, has graduated high school!!! It is quite an accomplishment and I’m so proud of him. I thought I’d take an opportunity in this post to explain a little bit about how the Ethiopian educational system works and the road that Hapti has had to take to achieve this goal.

Hapti grew up in the countryside outside of town and was able to attend grades 1-6 in a rural school near his parents’ home. In order to attend grades 7 and 8 he had to move to his aunt’s home, a 4-hour walk from his parents and still an hour walk to the school. At the end of grade 8, a national examination is administered and for those students with a passing score, they are allowed to enter 9th grade. For those students who do not have a passing score, formal education ends. Hapti, fortunately, passed and continued to live with his aunt for grades 9 and 10.

At the end of grade 10 another exam is held to weed out those students who will enter preparatory school (grades 11 and 12) from those who will be invited to attend a technical training program. Hapti, again, passed. Our town, however, has only one preparatory school and this required Hapti to move once again. Due to the fact that none of Hapti’s family members lived in town, he found a room to rent and every 10 days or so, Hapti’s mom would walk in from the rural area bringing dried injera, colo (a snack made of roasted barley and peanuts), and a small amount of money for additional food.

At the end of grade 12 another national examination is held which is used to differentiate those students who will be selected for university (the higher scores) from those that will be admitted to colleges of teacher training. It is also at this time that each student completes a form that ranks their choice of university and choice of program. For Hapti, the summer passed by slowly, fraught with an equal mix of anxiety and eager anticipation. At the end of August he finally received his test score and then in late September via radio he learned of his placement. The Ethiopian education system does not afford a lot of choice and for Hapti his disappointment was great. He was placed at a new university near the Sudanese border and in a program that he has little to no interest in. And now he waits again. As with almost all of the new universities in Ethiopia, construction has not yet been completed and there isn’t sufficient room to accommodate first year students. Currently Hapti bides his time working at a café for 50 cents a day while wondering if he can handle one more move, one more sacrifice.

The road to opportunity and advancement in Ethiopia is a long and arduous one. Although education is available to all, not every family can afford or is willing to make the costly sacrifices. Hapti’s story is not unique, but rather that shared by the vast majority. It is at times like this when I feel so blessed to grow up where I did. Where freedom of choice is a given and such sacrifices are the exception rather than the rule.

Hapti proudly sporting some of the graduation gifts that he received from my parents and me. He was so appreciative to have a backpack filled with school supplies and a few “new to him” clothes. In fact, after he opened his gifts he immediately set out for the market to see if he could find someone from his rural area that would be able to get a message to his parents and in the process ran into his mom.