16 March 2008 - Ethiopian reflections

We cycled from Yebelo to Mega today – a relatively tough 105km.

It is a beautiful, but stark environment that we have encountered in the last few days. A straight tar road that disappears into the horizon, serves to cut through the red earth littered with acacias and ant hills. Birds are everywhere, and I find myself cursing my ignorance as I see each new vivid species. I understand that this is nomadic country and this is visible by the numerous herds of cattle, caravan camels and women wearing gorgeous arrays of coloured scarves and necklaces. The people and landscape is visibly changing as we inch closer to the Kenyan border. The people are also more rural and less civilised by western standards. The women are suddenly camera-shy, children clearly are not attending any forms of schooling, they appear more surprised by us than Ethiopians further north were, and our forms of communication have rapidly deteriorated with Amharic no longer being the language of use.

We are now staying in the town of Mega, 100 km short of the Kenyan border! There was a discussion last night over the team’s feelings going into Kenya. It seems unanimous that we are all very excited to leave Ethiopia. I am not sure whether it is because we have had some bad experiences with the people here and are looking for some relief from the endless begging, or whether we are excited simply for the change. We have had some incredible times in this country. Aesthetically it is exquisite and vast. The people have been less of an attraction simply because there seems to be a culture for begging so deeply entrenched in society, and because everywhere we go we are wary of petty theft and being ripped off with “farangi” (white man) prices. Quite simply, it is tiring, and has been a real test of patience for all of us.

I have witnessed pretty much everyone in the team, myself included (!), crack at some point. The shame is that generally we crack over relatively small things; so frustrated with being had for the fifth time that day, one guy gets the brunt of the frustration. In some respects, the environment has brought out worse versions of ourselves.

Today as I arrived in town, Grant was waiting with a gentleman that was providing advice over restaurant and hotels. We had a delicious meat and bread dish that was served in a hot cauldron brought to us over the coals. It was incredible. And made more so by the good prices and lovely big man that ran the restaurant. His surprise at receiving a tip for his efforts was refreshingly awesome.

On the other hand, our “friend” that was helping us out suddenly turned around asking for 10 birr for his efforts. No act of kindness in Ethiopia comes without a “Give me money” afterwards. Reading this may make me sound a little like a stingy cow, but it is so frustrating.

Daily we try to control our frustration. Daily I try and work out the reasons behind the ingrained begging culture. Daily I come up with little solutions and find myself despairing for a country that seems to have been torn at the seams and in my mind, negative as I may sound, doesn’t seem to have much hope. I am not sure who is to blame, and I know that the NGOS that try and support these people are doing incredible work. Talking from small experiences from the back of a bicycle, the social fabric appears broken and I don’t know what will restore it.

Perhaps it is unfair for us to comment as we are seeing a very specific aspect of Ethiopia as we pass through. However, the team came to the consensus that the best way to tackle the situations here would be to invest in infrastructure and education, and make absolutely sure that there are no hand-outs. Giving things to people is breeding a sense of entitlement.

We have met some wonderful, educated people that throw dirt in the face of this argument. Ethiopia needs more people like that, and I hope that they will prove me wrong.

12 March 2008 - Take it on the chin

It’s been another mad day in Ethiopia!

Today started badly as my phone played up and I slept through our proposed 7 o’clock meeting time. So feeling a little sorry for myself I wound my way through Addis’ traffic and the chaos that surrounded the construction site of Africa’s "first spaghetti junction." This irritated me a little, partly due to the complete mayhem that very seriously amounted to technical mountain biking in amongst the rubble, and partly because every time we drove between Pietermaritzburg and Durban as a little girl, I’d get very excited by the massive spaghetti junction!

However, I am fast learning that South Africa is not really Africa.I love being from Africa, but we know nothing! We live strangely hybrid lives with all the trappings of all things Western amongst the colourful chaos of Africa.

I digress…

At 45 km in I was cycling along waving at people and calling out to children as we cycled through a town… when an arm in a yellow jersey swung across my path landing squarely on my jaw!

I managed to stay on the bike, but that was little reflection of the force with which this man hit me. A combination of cycling at 20km per hour and a well-placed swing – Wow it hurt!

Three seconds later the bikes were on the floor, I was in hysterics and Grant was chasing after some crazy man… No really, it transpired that the man actually was crazy and that he didn’t necessarily mean to harm me. I think I was mainly in shock because I was hit at all.

I am now in bed in a little room listening to Twig repairing a spoke amidst cries of “I love you” from the local children. My right arm has a solid bruise and my neck and jaw are aching a tad, but I’m luckily fine… Just a little annoyed that I’m suffering because of some mad man and not some glamorous cycling story!

4 March 2008 - The Blue Nile Gorge

The Blue Nile Gorge! – Much talked about, much anticipated. 20 km down one side and 20 km up the other. Only photographs can do justice to the mountain we climbed. What is most surprising though is the relative ease with which the team faced the challenge. We have been cycling at altitude for some time now, and through steady cycling and a fair level of mental preparation, we ate that climb up… one revolution at a time!

In fairness though, the incredibly beauty and expansive views across the gorge served to fuel our legs – who could not complete that climb when they had those views to nurse them up it!

I am now showered and rested, and having just finished my fourth macchiato for the day, I am like the cat that got the cream. Only I am not a cat, and am in Ethiopia where they have just started a 55 day fast meaning no dairy products or meat for a fairly long time… Respect. But mad.

On that note, I am a little sick of enjera (bitter pancakes) with shiru (pot of dunking sauce) and spaghetti with tomato sauce. Lunch and dinner and breakfast is either bread, enjera or pasta. Carboloading has reached new levels. What I would give for a big mixed salad, plate of vegetables and fruit for dessert. Not so much! In fact, I think I might just go for a stroll now and see what I can pick up…

Stroll successful! Picked up Ollie and Denis and a few toots with the locals! Ethiopian towns are one street wonders and entail everything from makeshift bars and restaurants (identified by competing Pepsi and Cocacola signs) to very general stores, DVD stands and trucker’s motels… And everywhere you look there are people of different colours and ages.

We had a long debate at dinner tonight over the Ethiopians. On separate occasions we met a German and Swiss group of cyclists that lamented the Ethiopian people and in particular, the children. I remember the hackles on my neck rising as our German friend talked of the children and their stone-throwing, demanding behaviour. My response to him – Go home! Although, I wasn’t quite as vocal.

But the children really can be ridiculously trying. Niall and Gareth were witness to me absolutely losing my temper with a twelve year old. Wherever we go we are thronged with children who shout “You! You!” and “Give me money!” My initial response was one of pity, but often these shouts are accompanied by flying stones and a tough climb. And one child can walk with you for no less than 300 meters as you pant up a hill whilst he shouts “You! Give me money!” with a sense of entitlement that quite frankly would tire some very patient people.

There are some endearing, big eyed, waving children. But the rubbishes who grab at your tent as you cycle by, undermine their presence. I have tried to work out the best response – silence, no, shouting… I have caught a child who hit me with a stone and tried to explain to the adults that this wasn’t ideal behaviour. But it is not my place to discipline them.

The most important question is why they do it. I don’t believe it is necessarily cultural – it is specifically targeted at us Farangis (white people). Ethiopia is not big on tourism and there are very few westerners around. Their interactions and understanding of western life is limited to the media/TV and NGO support. It is a tenuous link, but I wonder whether westerners serve to aggravate the problem by giving things to random children as they pass through. I have to believe that at some stages “Give me money” results in them getting money. I am not sure if this is the case, but I am resolved to be firmer on not giving handouts. I don’t wish to be callous and hard hearted with people who have comparatively nothing, but it seems to be breeding a sense of entitlement in this Ethiopian generation. I hope they grow out of it.

5 March – Millennium Promise

I have left the charity angle out of these entries because I was determined to keep work and play separate. However, this trip is so tied to Millennium Promise that I fail to accurately portray what life is like on the ground. Whenever we enter a larger town and can access internet, a good section of that day is spent writing mails and pitching for corporate donations. Team admin often comes before tourist entertainment or even a good relaxing evening. We are checking for mails from friends and family, but emailing sponsors and media contacts and updating the website… and given African internet connections, it is a painfully laborious process!

We do this because we, as a team, believe in Millennium Promise and their commitment to the 400 000 people currently within their program. I was sold when I read Jeffrey Sachs’ book titled The End of Poverty – read it! It is the first empirically based, practical and positive angle I have read on Africa’s problems and the solutions going forward. He is possibly the world’s most influential economist, has worked for the likes of Kofi Anan, and led the team who constructed the Millennium Development Goals… But most importantly for me, he is not cynical but pragmatic, optimistic but not naïve, and he does a brilliant job at making you feel likewise! He genuinely believes that we can end extreme poverty by 2025, and maybe I am young and idealistic, but I want to believe him.

Millennium Promise is one of the vehicles that he believes will enact change. The organisation is structured on clusters of villages of approximately 5000 people each. Countries are chosen based on political stability and in areas where there are good relations with local public officials. Villages are then supported on a five-year funding plan with a forty percent buy-in from government. It is an integrated plan that supports the eight areas of the Millennium Development goals concurrently such that the different areas support each other. Examples of support include road infrastructure, access to water, agricultural support, small business development, education, women’s empowerment, malaria and HIV prevention and general health…

The differentiating factor of this organisation is that after five years it withdraws funding on the basis that at this point the village is self-sustaining. In my opinion this is not a hand-out but an investment that leads to a grouping of people that are in a position to support themselves and their families.

We are raising money for the village of Mbola, Tanzania. It costs them $300 000 to support the village of 5000 for the year, and so this is our target. We have currently raised $140 000, which is awesome work, but has room for improvement! In effect, we will be part of a team that enables 5000 Tanzanians to end poverty. That is pretty mind-blowing for me. I am honoured to be a part of this team; and when I say “team” I refer to the many, many people that have contributed time and effort in getting behind this trip. This is not about 6 people cycling the length of Africa.

One of my favourite books is Tipping Point – Gladwell describes the how social epidemics are created. This might sound less concrete than the $300 000 we hope to raise, but for me personally, a large part of the value within this project is discovered in its knock-on effects - by the people who are inspired to join the campaign to end extreme poverty, by students who may feel a little more empowered to do something proactive, and by an older generation who may feel just a little less cynical about Africa’s future. I sound a little idealistic, but this project is given power by the people that it touches, and who might be inspired to do something or simply remember the name Millennium Promise for that day when he/she is given the opportunity to join the team.

I don’t mean this as a donations drive – this is simply to explain why I believe in this cause and why it is such an integral part of this trip.

4 March 2008 - Back in the game!

I am back in the game! Yee haa!

It has been a tough couple of weeks for me, and I have lived in between bouts of sickness brought on no doubt by general fatigue. Since Khartoum, I have been worried that I was simply not strong enough. I had started to put it down to the fact that I was a girl, and that naturally I was weaker than the guys and so naturally I would struggle along behind them…

But not so! I am feeling good again, and have pretty much kicked the general weakness. It has been a tough couple of days cycling at altitude. Yesterday we finished just short of 90 km at 2400 meters. And they weren’t too conservative in dishing out the hills.

Ethiopia comes in folds, with seemingly innocent rises hiding the endless climbs behind them. The beauty of the climb is the exhilarating free-fall down the other side, whose enjoyment is marred only by the fact that in Ethiopia what goes down must come up… and up we go! We have been cycling at 2400 meters for the last week or so… this makes for tougher cycling.

We stayed in Debra Markos last night. It is not a particularly interesting spot, but a larger town which boasts mixed juices (avocado and mango juice – ah wow), macchiato (Ethiopia is renowned for its coffee and, when it doesn’t come with pork milk, this is the best caffeine kick they offer) and a few decent hotels – all we need for a solid night’s rest.

26 February – Lalibela

Lalibela – a town created in the 12^th century by King Lalibela. He was a Christian ruler disenchanted by the dangerous pilgrimage to Jerusalem. So he decided to build a New Jerusalem for Africa. Lalibela comprises beautiful monolithic, rock-hewn churches that are wonderfully preserved and, most incredibly, still in use.

It was a sixteen hour journey in the back of a minibus with nonexistent shocks on a crazy road. It took us sixteen hours to drive only 600 km. What aggravated the situation was that it was a purported eight hour journey, we weren’t feeling superb, and one of my dear team mates had a bizarre stomach situation that left the rest of us in some levels of discomfort. This did however generate a degree of amusement as our two Amharic drivers erupted into girlish screams and resorted to sticking tissues up their nostrils... not so funny now, but pretty situational. Wow. We were bored.

But it was all considered well worth it in the end. It truly was a pretty mind-blowing experience. At Lalibela we joined Denis’ father, Dermot, and his mate Stanley, both of whom work in the tourism industry – they said it was like nothing they had ever seen. It is Ethiopia’s secret.

I am pushed to explain myself, but find its wonder difficult to describe. The churches are an archaeological feat – large churches carved down into the volcanic rock, with beautifully sculpted interiors hollowed out. Well-preserved decorations, frescos and sculptures, line the interiors. Most impressive for me is the fact that for the last 900 years these churches have been used, and are still used, as a place of worship. What stories those walls could tell.

Dermot and Stanley looked after us very well. Given that I didn’t know Denis before meeting him in Heathrow airport, it was great to meet Dermot and give Denis some context. It was also so enjoyable to simply relax and chat with people who are so involved in this project and yet removed enough from it. They were good fun and had many an amusing reflection on our team dynamics and uber-chilled traveller’s mentality. They did also make some constructive criticisms that have been invaluable in boosting some energy into the ranks.

There are so many people that have bought into this trip and who follow our progress. There are countless more that we consult in terms of logistics, bicycles, routes… and then there are the corporates who sponsor us. Having Dermot join us reminded me of that. It is very easy when on the road in the middle of Ethiopia to think of little else but being on the road in the middle of Ethiopia… and I become a little self-absorbed!

So I wanted to say a massive thank you for all the support… It really is an essential part of the success of this venture and I am so appreciative of your following our progress – It is so great to know that there are so many behind this trip and who support our cause. It is also news of people with continued interest in this that keeps me writing and recording what is turning out to be a truly fascinating experience.

22 February 2008 - Braids

I have had the most wonderful day! Gonder is a city which buzzes with Ethiopian rhythm. I am greeted with vibrant chaos and unceasing music; helpful kids eager to earn a quick tip; and ancient buildings with vague histories.

As we arrived in Gonder two young schoolboys tracked us down and basically became our self-appointed guides. Ababa and David distinguished themselves as better lads than the rest by refusing the first tip that came their way. A clever tactic – it seems that they must have been holding out for the big handout at the end. However, in fairness to David and Ababa, they were very sharp guys who had learnt every subtle trick in the books. They took it upon themselves to look after us entirely, from discussing tourist sites to arranging our laundry. They even “got attacked at knife-point” in protecting my laundry from a thief – I apologise for my cynicism if this did in fact happen.

One afternoon as we were walking down the street with our little entourage in tow I decided that now would be a good time to braid my hair. Ababa wasted no time in convincing me that this would indeed be a superb idea and that I would look like “Miss Ethiopia” when finished. How could I refuse that?!

Following Ababa, I landed in some small backstreet of Gonder, further removed from the chaos of motor traffic, but right in the thick of donkeyville. Corrugated houses lined the streets selling anything from cloth to cosmetics. Shimmying around a slight curtain, I entered such a shack that was to become my salon. It was a great little hairdresser – three young women divvied up to the nines; a large mirror in front of a chair; and another large mirror on the back wall of a room which was not much more than 3 meters long.

I was seated in the throne, whilst all four of us collapsed in hysterics to a very confused Ababa – it seems that girlish fun, much missed on my part, is pretty universally understood by females and universally exclusive to males! No really, this was pretty classic! Through a combination of gestures at one of the hairdresser’s braids, and some lousy charades on my part, I gave up and decided to leave them to their own devices.

After continued amusement and endless photographs from budding cameraman Ababa, I emerged with neatly woven corn rows across my head. I think my hairdressers got more amusement out of the whole process than I did. And I was pretty amused. The equivalent of R20 and 20 minutes later, and my whole head of hair was stuck to my head in a way that left me feeling bizarrely self-conscious.

I can feel the wind blowing on my scalp.