Ethiopia

As part of the Wheel Blacks I get to travel quite a bit. In 2003 the boys went up to Japan to attend the Oceania Champs. I missed out on that one so I was pretty stoked to get the call up to go to the Oceania Champs in South Africa in November last year. 2005

It’s awesome travelling with the boys. We’re like a big family and there is always a laugh to be had. But this report isn’t about that. It’s about the 3 weeks I spent in Ethiopia with my partner Naomi.

Naomi has been in Ethiopia for the last year doing aid work for an organisation called Right to Play (RTP). They’re all about sport and play. Basically she sets up programs so that children can participate in games and sport. Sounds pretty easy but with limited resources and poverty all around, it’s a pretty tough job. However it can be very rewarding.

With me being in South Africa playing rugby it was a great opportunity for me to pop up there and see for myself what her life is like and being an ambassador for the RTP I wanted to see how the programs ran.

Ethiopia has never been high on my list of exotic destinations, if on the list at all. I’d been to 3^rd world countries before but Ethiopia was a new benchmark for me. Firstly, it was Africa, and secondly, poverty on this scale was very foreign to me.

I was relieved that the flight was only 3 or so hours. It was really comfy and there were no goats or chickens or people sitting in the isle. I flew Ethiopian Airlines who were fantastic. Here’s me thinking it was going to be this old stink ass plane with no windows that would brake down half way there, but it was almost better than dirty ole Air New Zealand 737.

I was pretty nervous about going to Ethiopia. I’d had all 600 shots and scored an emergency diarrhoea fix it kit, a water purifier, and wait for it…4 adult nappies. I was fully prepared to have stuff coming out both ends. I was even prepared for man-eating mossies, snakes, killer ants and no TV for 3 weeks. Why the heck would I want to go to Ethiopia you ask. Well I’m always looking to set new benchmarks for myself. I like proving to myself, and to others, that this stuff is possible if you have the right attitude, and this seemed like a pretty good challenge. The good thing though was Naomi had really good knowledge of the country, could speak some Amharic and had loads of friends to hook us up.

I arrived into the capital, Addis Ababa, around midnight so 1^st impressions don’t count. But I will say Jo’berg seemed like Vegas compared to the seeming chaos of what I witnessed the next day. It didn’t take long to get my head around how full on the city was and soon realised everything had its place. Even though it looked a mess.

Naomi lives in a house not unlike the ones we live in. the biggest difference is it’s surrounded by a 7-foot fence and she has a security guard manning the gate. Its about a km from the main road down a dusty, bumpy, pot-holed lane, lined with houses, schools and tiny shops made from corrugated iron selling fruit and veggies, dvd’s and other convenience items.

My first task was to meet the RTP team. Naomi had told me heaps about what they have been up to and it was nice to put faces to names. Having guards at the gate and our own personal driver was weird but considering most of the streets don’t have names and were unpaved I was thankful to be driven around. Man they are crazy drivers. It’s to be expected really with the cities population reaching around 6 million.

After meeting the team we went to Kirkos, the most densely populated area in Addis. They couldn’t have packed more people in if they tried. The houses were made from mud and corrugated iron and there was no such thing as a backyard game of football. The backyard was your neighbour’s place and the front yard was the street. Needless to say the kids in this area had few resources and just finding a place for them to kick a ball around was hard enough. That’s if they even had a ball.  Enter RTP. I was so impressed with the program. The kids were buzzing, all 500 of them, well it felt like 500 anyway, it was more like 60. They love football but don’t get to play much because of a lack of space, equipment, coaches and good shoes. I felt that I could be doing more to help these kids but they were happy just to be playing. They might not have much but its amazing how a smile or a laugh can warm you so much.

We had an interpreter with us and I found it weird that these kids probably had no idea where on earth New Zealand was let alone how the heck you play wheelchair rugby. Having a gold medal didn’t seem so important considering these kids were probably thinking more about how hungry they were or how they are going to do their school work with no pencil. I loved watching them put those thoughts aside for an hour while they played their favourite sport. What I also enjoyed watching was the respect the kids had for their coaches. These coaches had become an important part of this community and you could feel how proud they were to be running the programs.

 No one wanted to leave when it was time to move to the next location where I saw the same thing but on a much bigger scale. More kids and a bigger area. You couldn’t call it a field because it was dirt and surrounded by rubbish. It was a long area but really skinny with a big drain on one side. This is where the crowd sat. The disheartening thing about this place was just over the fence was a disused grass football field but it was in the military grounds and access was prohibited and you’d get a bullet in your ass if you even tried to fetch your lost ball. Bummer dude.

Even so, spirits were high and when I wasn’t watching a super competitive game of football where I’m sure a talent scout wouldn’t be wasting his time, I was helping the kids with their English and singing songs, badly. They didn’t care if I sang like a drunk Willie Nelson and neither did I. In the end I had the whole group and their friends and their siblings and their dogs all singing God of nations at thy feet…. Then they sang me Ethiopian songs. By the conclusion of the day my spirits were lifted. I no longer felt pity. I had helped the kids with their singing (not) and hopefully inspired some of them to follow their dreams…even though they still had no idea who the guy in the wheel car thingy was and what he was here for.

The next day I spent some time at a school for deaf children. Damn dude if you ever think you’ve got it bad go to a place like Addis Ababa and witness what its like to have nothing. And then try and imagine being deaf with nothing. Life is hard enough without the hassle of a disability hanging over your head. The deaf school was a humbling experience. These kids mostly came from country areas where disabled people are hidden. There isn’t a lot of hope for them and often the only option is to beg on city streets. The school is privately funded and can only provide for 40 kids…how many more are out there??? The deaf association has 1000 members out of a possible 250 000 deaf people in the country. The building was a run down old house, totally unsuitable but once again the kids were totally gorgeous and seemingly unfazed by their predicament.

I spent the next 3 days visiting other schools and organisations and enjoyed every minute.

On my last day we drove an hour out of the city to a countryside rehab hospital for disabled children. Most of them came from country areas and only stay a short time while their wounds heal and they can rehab a bit. The place was stunning, the grounds perfect for doing sport and a really relaxed setting suited well for the kids to recover. But there was no relaxing to be had that day though. With the DJ in full swing and all the RTP staff and coaches on hand the kids were split into groups and were soon playing to their hearts content.

Most of the coaches have a disability of some sort and I found their courage and determination inspiring. There is not a lot of opportunity for someone with a disability in Ethiopia. Unemployment is sky high, which puts disabled people at the bottom of the list. There is little scope for elite sport but thanks to RTP, the Ethiopian Paralympic committee has more structure and guidance. I saw a lot of disabled people on the streets begging and I feared the prospect for what’s ahead for the kids at the rehab hospital…a future of begging? I hope not but the chances are high.

Ethiopia is a hard place to get around in when you’re in a wheelchair, and I’ve got a good one. The chairs they use are straight from the hospital, if they can afford it. You know the ones. They would be so hard to push on the flat let alone over dirt, gravel, pot holes kerbs and rocks. Despite all the obstacles I found the people resilient and so hospitable. I found that RTP has enriched their lives and I was very proud to represent the big red ball (that’s their logo).

With all this going on I had to eat. This is one area I was hesitant about. I had run out of Power Bars by this point so there was no option but to dive in and sample the local cuisine. I stuck to vegetarian stuff mainly and I have to say that it was the best food I’ve ever tasted…sorry mum. I even miss it now. It was so good.

Meat is a huge part of their diet. 3 times a day except on fasting days. Being Orthodox Christian they have to abstain from eating meat on Tuesday and Friday’s. But I wasn’t to keen on the meat and my plan worked…didn’t need to use the nappies once! What I ate was delicious. Every meal is served on this stuff called ingera. It looks like a big pancake but taste nothing like it. The ingera is put on this really big tin plate and your meal is then served on top of the ingera. You eat your meal with your fingers by picking up the veggies and stuff between the ingera. You use your right hand only and it can get messy, especially with my gammy hands. My favourite was this stuff called shiro. It’s a bean type mushy stuff that is kinda like bean dip. The locals combine it with smoking chillies and wash it down with this stuff called tedge. Tedge is grouse and it's pretty much home brewed petrol. But the coffee is the best. I don’t normally drink much coffee but this is where coffee originated…yeah this is where some fulla, back in the day, said to his mate hey check out these bean things, I wonder if we can eat them, I’ll boil them up and you can drink it, and if you die we’ll know they’re bad. Luckily for the fulla it didn’t kill him and coffee was born.

Addis is an amazing city man. It never stops. 24/7. It’s a city of 6 million and stinks. Mainly of fumes from the shitty taxi’s and diesel spewing trucks and buses. Toyota has made a killing here because if it ain’t a Toyota it’s a Lada. It’s a dusty city with bugger all footpaths. It wouldn’t matter if they had footpaths anyway because everyone walks on the road regardless. Even on the motorway. They don’t really have malls just lots of shops scattered all over the place. There is no such thing as the yellow pages in this place. If you need something and can’t find it you just have to ask someone.

But the one thing that really bothered me was the beggar's coming up to the car window at traffic lights. It was a really uncomfortable situation. You want to give people money but you can’t give it to everyone and unfortunately children work for a pimp who takes his cut of the loot. I dreaded stopping because I felt like a complete prick…and boy were they persistent. They stood at the window and asked for money or food over and over until you drove off when the lights changed. This was poverty like I’ve never seen. This is why aid agencies are so prevalent in Ethiopia. But as you will learn later in this report I think Ethiopia is too reliant on aid.

A week in the city was enough for me so we hired a 4wd, a driver and a guide and headed south. It cost us about $700 each but would have cost more if we went through a tour company. The 4wd was an old Toyota Land Cruiser and was a piece of shit. It was so gutless and had no air conditioning. Or radio. Our driver did his best but man did he ring out 3^rd gear. He would be driving 90, still in 3^rd, which got really annoying after a while. I think he was to used to city driving. But it served us well and didn’t break down once.

We drove for 2 days south and ended up in a village called Turmi where we camped for 3 nights. This was off the beaten track man. This was the middle of nowhere, the most isolated I’ve ever been. It was a rush.

The journey to get to this place was an adventure in itself. First of all the roads are crap so it was pretty much 80-90 kms the whole way. But the thing that I was amazed at was the people along the side of the road. We were miles from any town or village yet there was always people walking or riding their bikes or cruising on their donkey cart. There was no where to go so where were they going? This happened throughout our whole trip. Its like what the hell are you doing all the way out here.

The landscape was pretty barren. It was the dry season so most of the rivers were as dry as a desert and it was dusty. The first day was on bitumen roads but day 2 onwards was dirt/gravel roads. There wasn’t much to see apart from savanah type landscapes but I loved the acacia trees. They look like big umbrellas and are just so Africa.

It was a long, tiring journey and boy was it hot. Even with all the windows down I struggled. It was about 35 degrees and the wind blowing in the windows was like having a hair drier on my face. I drank about 3 litres a day and poured another 3 litres over my head.

We choose to base ourselves in Turmi because our guide was from a village not far from there. He could speak all of the local languages and knew his way around so that was really cool. I can’t imagine the difficulty we would’ve had if it weren’t for him. But he couldn’t do anything to stop us from getting stuck in a riverbed one day. We were on our way back from visiting a village and we had had crossed 20 or so dry riverbeds with no problems when disaster struck. We were stuck axle deep in a sandy river bed god knows how far from the nearest town.

Well there wasn’t much I could do seeing that it was sand so I just had to sit there and bake while the others tried to get us out. Ever the optimist I knew it wouldn’t be long before I was going to die of heat stroke, dehydration and hunger.

Luckily, you would think, we got stuck right next to a group of farmers taking a siesta from the arvo heat under a tree. About 10 men aged from 15 to 50 just sitting there, chillin out. It seemed like a logical idea to ask them to help us. We had to ask as they didn’t exactly jump up and help us. We sent our guide over but the lads wouldn’t help unless we paid them a ridiculous amount of money. Wankers. They just sat there and watched, giggling. We had no option but to send our guide on foot back to town to get his mates. How long would he be gone for…buggered if I knew.

You know what the worst thing about the whole ordeal was…it wasn’t the heat or the hunger, it wasn’t because those lazy arsed farmer boys wouldn’t help us, it wasn’t even because I couldn’t help, or that they would have been thinking that I was a lazy S.O.B. for not getting out and helping…it was the kids. A bunch of kids also happened to be where we got stuck and they thought this was great. It took them all of 10 seconds to have my window surrounded. First they started asking me for stuff. Lollies, water bottles, money, my shirt that sort of stuff. I couldn’t give anything to them because if you give to one you gotta give to all. So these little piss ants pestered me and pestered me but I didn’t give in. So they started making fun of me. I couldn’t understand what they were saying but they were laughing at me, looking at me, laughing again. They must have known I couldn’t get out and chase them away. It was infuriating. I just wanted to be left alone to die in peace but these cheeky little buggers were relentless.

Ha, then the cavalry arrived. Our guide and his band of 8 mates. Our heroes. First they abused the farmers then gave the kids a kick in the ass and I was happy. We eventually got out but not before the ute they came in nearly got stuck too. How funny would that’ve been. 

Back at the campsite it was still 100 degrees but we were glad to be out of the car and out of harms way. We were invited to our guards’ village that night. Yeah, even campsites have security guards. This was an experience I will treasure for the rest of my life. Boda, our guard,  was cool. On first impressions he intimidated me. He looked mean, tough and very serious. The type of guy you want guarding your tent. But after getting to know this tall, dark and mysterious bushman we learnt he was a humble and devoted family man. He wore a sarong type dress; sandals made from old car tyres (very popular in these parts), a blue singlet, a traditional hairstyle and slept on the ground outside our tent.

Anyway his village (about 5 mins drive away) was a surreal experience. It was honestly like stepping back in time. That’s a poor description but you know what I mean. The huts were made from wood and mud, no electricity, the food cooked over a fire, the animals outside, no beds or pillows, no lights or even torches, no toilet not even running water, no carpet, no couch not even a front door. This was how they lived, as they did 100’s of years ago. I think you call it subsistence living.

They wear very little clothing. Women wore goatskin dresses and little else apart from body decorations like necklaces, bracelets and anklets. They were expecting us earlier that day but because we got stuck we were late. We got there just in time for dinner that consisted of some maize type stuff with a few other things chucked in for good measure. You can’t say no in these situations, even if they were offering you bird turd on toast, so I accepted it with a smile and proceed to eat this stuff, with a smile. It was grouse but after another few mouthfuls I plucked up the courage to say nah thanks I’ll pass on the next round...then came out the coffee. Well it was like no other coffee I had ever tasted. It wasn’t in a cup either. It was in a kinda dried out pumpkin thing the size of basketball cut in half. It was dark in the hut so I couldn’t see what was in there but I felt it when it hit my mouth. I don’t know what else they put in the coffee but it looked like a mixture of grass clippings, sticks and other stuff. It wasn’t bad but it wasn’t good either. I mean it was no trim latte from Starbucks but it was good enough to wash down the maize.

Our interpreter was invaluable. We learnt so much about village life and how they live. I guess they were well impressed with us too because out came the presents. The leader of the family, Bodo’s brother, gave me 2 of his bracelets and Bodo’s wife gave Naomi an arm bracelet thing that was exquisite. Luckily I had some gifts in my bag otherwise I would have felt a right tit. They were stoked with the pens we gave the kids and the necklace I gave Bodo’s bro. We had made a real connection with these people and it felt great.

Its not every day you get to experience a real life village. This wasn’t like any tourist thing where you pay to look at the animals in the zoo, this was real life. I didn’t realise that people still lived like that. I mean there was a town 500m down the road where people wore clothes and it had all the amenities you need – water, electricity, shops etc. Yet the people in Bodo’s village choose to live as if that world didn’t exist. They don’t even wear clothes!

I’m so grateful for that experience and its really hard to describe in words how bizarre, weird, rewarding and humbling it was. I wonder what it would be like to take Bodo to a big city like London of LA. Would he still sleep on the floor? Would the whole thing just be too much for him? I reckon he’d be sad to see what we have done to the world with our factories, motorways and hostile attitudes.

The next day was even more unreal. Earlier that day we went to visit another village but they were dicks so we left. Anyway our guide had got word that a ceremony called bull jumping was happening across the river from our campsite. Sweet, I thought African style rodeo. Oh how wrong I was. When a boy of the Caro people becomes of age and marriage beckons him he has to go through a bull jumping ceremony. Basically 5 or so bulls are lined up side by side and he has to jump over them a few times all the while there is heaps of singing, dancing and ceremonial stuff going on. Sounds easy. Well from what I saw it was but if the fulla fails and stumbles or falls off the bulls there were consequences. All the women of his family get the bash. That’s right and they actually want to be beaten as well because it proves that the boy who failed is a good boy and deserves a second chance. We turned up at bashing time where the males whip the females with a stick like a branch off a willow tree, thin and whip like. There’s a horrible cracking sound as skin meets stick.

The women get on the drink big time and are pretty wasted. The men don’t want to hit them but the women bug and pester and demand that they hit them. It wasn’t great to watch but it was fascinating. Some of the women had huge welts across their back and arms and blood streaming out of them. Apparently this has been done for ages so who am I to say how dumb it is. All I can say is bugger that.

I was a bit sad to leave Bodo and the campsite but we had to hit the road.

We went further south, passed through a few more towns and ended up in a town called Jinka. Some guide book described this town as Paris compared to other towns in the area. Well give me Turmi any day. This place was a dump. The only reason we stayed there was because we wanted to visit the Morsei. The Morsei is another tribe but the attraction with this tribe is that they wear huge pottery disc’s in their bottom lips. Our plans were spoiled when we found out they had raised the price to visit them and we couldn’t afford it. Which was a blessing because we spoke to some other people who had visited them. Apparently the Morsei have been ruined by tourists and are now greedy drunkards who get really violent if you don’t give them what they ask for. So outta there.

We stayed in a few more towns, visited more villages and ate more wonderful food and got back to Addis tired but totally fulfilled.

 

Overall Impressions

Poverty is a reality in this country. But its kinda weird because its poverty in my eyes because of what I have and how I grew up and where I live is so different. For Ethiopians it’s just the way they live. If I had to live in a shack and had to collect water from a well every day it would suck. If couldn’t drive my car or couldn’t afford shoes or go on holidays to the beach I would hate my life. But Ethiopians live a different life. They have small houses and sewage problems, they don’t drive fancy cars or have playstations (but they all have bloody cell phones) but they are content, happy, hospitable and tough. It would be a tough way to live because you’re on your own. There are no Govt handouts. You gotta earn your way otherwise you and your family go hungry.

Now I’m going to kinda contradict myself here a bit because I have just said Ethiopians are on there own. I think there is too much aid in Ethiopia and so now Ethiopians will put their hand out before trying to fix the problem for themselves. I can feel a saying coming on…you can give a man a fish and feed him for a day or you can teach a man to fish and feed him forever. I don’t think this happens in Ethiopia. They have been given so much aid that now it’s to easy for them to ask for a new soccer ball rather than raise the money to buy another one themselves. It doesn’t help when some NGO’s drive around in the flashest cars, stay in expensive hotels and wear tailored suits. To me that money could be used elsewhere.

Ok that was my little rant but it does piss me off because it kinda put a downer on the trip. It’s a wonderful place but I always felt like uncomfortable because people saw me as someone with money because of my skin colour and they wanted some of it. It was constant and I felt I couldn’t trust anyone that was being nice to me. I helped out where I could but bro you can’t help everyone.

I did stick out like a sore thumb though. Red hair, pasty white skin, tattoo’s and a bloody wheelchair made me stand out. Everywhere we went be it in a town or in the city kids and people would surround me. I got frustrating because they were in my way but I also felt like a freak show. Ethiopians have a strange concept of personal space. It doesn’t exist. They will crowd your space and think nothing of it. When we were in the 4wd they would come up to the window, say hello then put their head inside the window and have a look in the back to what we had then they’d just stay there for 10 mins leaning on the car staring at me, touching me, asking me for stuff. I’d turn up at a market and I’d have 60 kids follow me.

Its not a dangerous place but it does get annoying when people try and rip you off all the time. Fair enough to an extent that they charge you a different price to what the locals pay but there is a limit and boy did they push it. It’s a really cheap place to travel around but you will always be a foreigner and will never be fully accepted.

So that’s about it from me. I had a great time and would love to see more of Africa. It was difficult at times because the access, showers, toilets and the heat all tested me but you have to accept those things. I feel now that I can push the limits a little further and already have me eyes on another trip. See you next time.