Friday February 10th On To the Ends of the Earth (according to us)

We head out early – approximately 6AM and without breakfast, quickly leaving the little town of Lake Awasa and traveling up into what’s known as the highlands; our destinations the small town of Arbegona and even smaller hamlet of Batella. Though, we were all stunned by the turnoff from the main road. Never would we have found it in a million years. Very obscure, but hey, we made it. We reach elevations above 8,000 in this area. It is cooler up here and the people dress appropriately, wrapping colorful blankets around themselves with barely their faces peeking out. We drive bend after bend through small communities in this cooler, mountainous area. It’s an area where two different tribes live harmoniously, the Oromo and Sidama, and we can differentiate between the two by the way their individual huts are built – thatch huts versus bamboo upside-down baskets. We take a short break at a small stream and eat a granola bar and drink water, then off again. What beautiful country with native bamboo – no wonder it’s used as much as it is for not only homes but fencing, intricately woven fencing, too!

We break again at a small waterfall, near a planting of Eucalyptus; leftovers from the failed attempt by the outgoing communist regime in the 70 have to reforest with obviously the wrong species of tree. And again, when we stop to hike down to the falls, we have an entourage of children and adults following. Even up here, the evidence of deforestation – erosion – is staring us in our faces. Ruts carving deeper into the topsoil and topsoil that is washing away at alarming rates. Waterborne diseases are rampant, not surprising when your water source is where your livestock stand and and and – hey, it’s ugly to think about but a real problem in Ethiopia and other parts of Africa. The children are just so awestruck by us forengi’s and our white skin. I’m sure not much happens up in these areas so having even a car drive by is cause to run out, look and wave joyfully at whoever it is!

We visit another small school, whose school “bell” is an old tire rim. How funny. Very green area, well kept school, small loo down the hill from the school. Again, no kids in school. We found out later that it was a mandatory training time for the teachers to learn the constitution of Ethiopia – though I can’t imagine why this is a mandatory training as it’s not like the constitution has changed recently. It’s too bad, as seeing the children is part of the fun of going to the schools. There is an outdoor cook area right adjacent to the outdoor “cafeteria.” It’s a fascinating set up for those of us from the U.S.

Back on the road, we head toward Arbegona, first to a small school, picking up the local pastor on the way. He invites us to visit the church he oversees and then to come to breakfast at his home. What a treat. Besides, it’s considered impolite to refuse. We each go through the hand washing ritual – apparently very ceremonial. Then, we’re all offered drinks (Pepsi, an orange drink and Ambo are very popular AND they’re in bottles) and then are served the meal. The meal consisted of lamb stew, scrambled eggs with some small amount of veggies in them, and the Ethiopian bread, Injera. The best way to describe injera is ¼” thin, spongy, sour dough-ish, tortilla-like, flat bread that is rolled up and used to dip into whatever is served. There is also a practice of feeding each other with the bread. This bread is very interesting in texture, not super flavorful, and somewhat gooey but not doughy. How does one describe something to someone who has never tasted it? I was told “it’s sort of like sour dough bread only different.” Is there some thread of logic there I’m missing??? Following the meal, coffee in tiny espresso cups and tons of sugar with some milk is served. After much bowing and shaking hands, we depart for Batella.

Batella, probably as close to the end of the earth as we can get on this trip, is where Echo, the ex-witch doctor, lives. Echo is in his 80’s and dying of cancer. He is the main person we were to interview in regard to the reforestation project. His wisdom and historic memories are needed to show what has happened to the countryside over the past 50+ years. More on that in a bit… If there’s a village even further back in time than any of the others, it’s Batella. We truly had to get there by four-wheeling, had to take down two fences and drive on no road at all! Again, the children see us and run alongside the vehicles, laughing and jumping and just so excited to see us; curiosity killed the cat? There are some in this group of approximately 50 that probably have never seen a white person, though mostly the young children. If anything, it’s a rarity! There is such a fascination with our skin (again, trying to shake hands to determine if our skin is the same as their skin), our hair, our cameras, Carol’s stature (she is rather tall and there aren’t many tall Ethiopian women) and Mike’s size, also. We walk, though encumbered by the entourage as usual, into the area surrounding the little church that has been going very strong in this area. People walk for miles to attend. Rumor has it that a very wealthy Muslim, with the intent of placing a mosque every 5 miles, was turned down between Arbegona and Batella. Their faith is that strong!

Story has it that Echo’s son, Wadio, and he had a falling out and Wadio left the village. He ended up in Arbegona and heard the little church there in full swing. He decided to attend and at that point found salvation in Jesus Christ. He was so thrilled and convicted at the same time, that he just had to go back and tell the village of Batella, and his father, what had happened and pass on the “good news.” Instead upon his arrival home, his father cursed him with blindness and diseases to his animals. As it turns out, nothing happened to Wadio. But Echo; the curses fell upon him. The need to find out the whys and wheres as to his situation led him to bring Wadio in to tell his story. Echo, too, accepted Christ and put away his old ways, and in doing so, was healed of his blindness. Quite a story. Wadio is now the pastor of the little Batella church.

But now, Echo is dying of cancer. We fear it’s no more than a month until he’s gone. Steve and Sirak, in tow to translate, go to his hut and interview him for a short time. Echo’s love for his people and for Steve is evident in his desire to see him. Echo remembers when animals roamed the hills. With his help, there will be more trees planted in the highlands. Even these people have seen that the Eucalyptus trees planted by the communist regime were wrong and are willing to reforest those areas with native trees and fruit trees.

We are invited into one of the bamboo huts – and they look like upside-down baskets! - to see inside. It’s a real treat. The huts are dark inside, separated into two areas; 2/3 of the hut for living purposes of the family and 1/3 for livestock. Not all livestock will fit in these areas, but the choice ones and the sick ones needing care will reside with the family. The homes are filled with soot and a smoky smell from the years of wood burning to cook meals. This woman was very gracious letting us invade her small space! For her hospitality, we have decided to leave all the trinkets we purchased for gifts back home in the states with Wadio. He will give her some candles and home items and then spread the rest of the items throughout the tribe. So, after a short few hours, it’s time to move on. And as in the style we drove in, we leave with about 10 children running with the vehicles, waving and laughing us on our journey.

It is fascinating to see the changes in huts between tribes; Wattle and daub to bamboo. The bamboo is woven so intricately, as are their fences when the bamboo is used. Usually 4-5 feet high and a clever basket-weave with split bamboo. As with most useful items, bamboo is native to the highlands. The fencing changes from the split bamboo to a columnar cactus to a stick with interwoven live plant. Most intriguing.

At this point in time, we are so hungry and thirsty, we decide to go into the heart of Arbegona, past their street market, to a small hotel for a short break. The hotel is where we were supposed to have stayed, had plans gone correctly. THANK GOD THEY DIDN’T!! It was awful! The break was good; ability to use “facilities” was grand but the hotel was in the midst of the hustle and bustle of town and very, very rustic. I just don’t like the dirty, shared bathrooms all that much. Drinks consumed (Ambo and buna all around!!) and we’re off, heading back to Lake Awasa and the hotel we are all anxious and happy to return to!

We make one last stop before leaving the highlands. Deciding to take a break, Sirak stops the car. We get out to stretch and low and behold there’s a gathering again. Where DO they come from??? About 20 or so children and adults gather next to the car. Mike gets out (and frightens them in his sudden exit from the car so much so they scatter for a moment) and starts handing out some of the dried cranberries, cherries and blueberries to the locals. They seem to like them very much. (This is good, since the last time we gave out one of our local cookies – and they’re not all that great by US standards – the child we gave it to spit it out!) Off we go again, back to South Spring Hotel and warm showers and semi-normal bathrooms!

After cleaning up, we head to what is considered the nicer hotel/restaurant in Awasa. None of us agreed with that rating; the Pena Hotel & Restaurant was a two story facility on the BUSIEST street – which is the main street – in Awasa. It was noisy and jammed with people and livestock, again. Dinner was, you guessed it, Italian. Nothing is as it appears on the menu for dinner. But the smoothies are to die for…