Another hectic day
Wednesday 3rd October
Kombolche - Girar Amba - Degan - Kombolche
Time dependent on someone else this morning – Ato Hashim, the Head of the Regional Education Department – to get up to Girar Amba and back to Degan in time for lunch, which the community has arranged, and is to be followed by 'a presentation.' Of what I am not sure at the start.
We will then make a formal visit to the Degan Health Centre and are once more scheduled to present the donated items to the high school. Finally we will collect Shemeles, the elected community leader, Eshetu the Health Centre Director and Mohammed Hassan our main local contact and get back to Kombolche in time to catch the Concern Office to discuss and finalize revisions to the MOU.
Sounds like a fairly impossible schedule, and we have the questionable benefit of knowing that in the same situation a year ago, Sam waited 3 hours to be picked up. It’s hard to fit everything into the schedule in the short time available – without adding the complicating factor of relying on someone else, who is also relying on someone else, i.e. the Concern pool vehicle and driver, to get started. There is no sense of impatience though, as being in the flow has seen us through like a well oiled and turbo charged engine thus far, and does not take Wednesdays off as far as I know.
Pick up time is 9am and when this doesn’t happen, I use the opportunity of waiting time to take my camera walkabout to capture some of the hotel environment. The woman who does the washing and resident guard puppies are particularly photogenic,
Watching the foot traffic at the end of the drive keeps me well entertained until the lift arrives – some of it looks positively biblical.
We are staying at the 3-star (my own context relevant rating) Tekle’s Hotel. Before the revolution Tekle’s was sited at Kombolche town's main roundabout at the end of the road to Bati that we travel along as far as Degan every day. Some gorgeous old pictures still decorate the dining room walls. Tekle’s managed to survive the sweep of nationalization during the 'socialist' regime that took power in the 1970s. A restaurant, bar and kitchens were added to three large bungalows - my guess is these were built during the Italian occupation - in a pretty sloping garden site at the edge of town in the 1980s. It’s a popular place with tourists and our booking has been misunderstood. After the first night, our basic but decent en suite rooms have to be vacated to accommodate a stream of what seems to be mainly Dutch tourists. Ron and Maria have a good size and easy access en suite room which we all end up using. Lorraine and Andrew have size and easy access to shared facilities. Sam and I have the necessary mozzie net and bed but little else. At least we are all in the same hotel with a restaurant for the duration of our stay thanks to some string pulling by the manager.
No pictures of the shared squat loo and (cold) shower are included. I didn't linger for fear of becoming prey for the resident mozzies and the memory is reminder enough.
We finally got underway about 10am in a much more comfortable vehicle than the minibus we hired for the trip – this Concern Land Cruiser has suspension as well as a ‘no fire arms’ sticker on the window.
The vehicle and the sign both begin to make sense at our destination, one of Degan High School’s feeder Primaries at Girar Amba. The village is small and seems barely accessible even after the minimal amount of rainfall since our arrival in the area. In an earlier video clip, the regional head of education Woizero (sp?) Wahad described it quite naturally as three hours walk from Degan, and that is no easy stroll. The route winds across a currently passable river-bed where a wide expanse of washed stones tells of wetter times. Along the edge of a not too deep but still dangerous to fall in canyon, up a rather muddy hill then around some steep and stony S bends. The country is stunning here with higher peaks painted on the horizon and healthy crops showing exactly why people choose to cope with the inconvenience of the location.
Round the final bend, the low roofs of single story buildings spaced around a clearing announce our arrival at the school. Local chiefs walk around with machine guns casually slung over shoulders and towering above the tiny figures spilling out of classrooms to inspect the visitors.
At one point, the guns are checked in with the mother of the house where we shelter from the rain that seems to follow us around. It is scarce and very welcome. She places the weapons casually on the bed under a mosquito net as if for protection. The house is basic, mud walls and tin roof. The by now familiar smell of these materials in the wet assaults my senses. I guess the senses become accustomed, though I am pleased not to be experiencing this for the first time in the height of the summer heat. I fear I might embarrass myself.
Kombolche - Girar Amba - Degan - Kombolche
Time dependent on someone else this morning – Ato Hashim, the Head of the Regional Education Department – to get up to Girar Amba and back to Degan in time for lunch, which the community has arranged, and is to be followed by 'a presentation.' Of what I am not sure at the start.
We will then make a formal visit to the Degan Health Centre and are once more scheduled to present the donated items to the high school. Finally we will collect Shemeles, the elected community leader, Eshetu the Health Centre Director and Mohammed Hassan our main local contact and get back to Kombolche in time to catch the Concern Office to discuss and finalize revisions to the MOU.
Sounds like a fairly impossible schedule, and we have the questionable benefit of knowing that in the same situation a year ago, Sam waited 3 hours to be picked up. It’s hard to fit everything into the schedule in the short time available – without adding the complicating factor of relying on someone else, who is also relying on someone else, i.e. the Concern pool vehicle and driver, to get started. There is no sense of impatience though, as being in the flow has seen us through like a well oiled and turbo charged engine thus far, and does not take Wednesdays off as far as I know.
Pick up time is 9am and when this doesn’t happen, I use the opportunity of waiting time to take my camera walkabout to capture some of the hotel environment. The woman who does the washing and resident guard puppies are particularly photogenic,
Watching the foot traffic at the end of the drive keeps me well entertained until the lift arrives – some of it looks positively biblical.
We are staying at the 3-star (my own context relevant rating) Tekle’s Hotel. Before the revolution Tekle’s was sited at Kombolche town's main roundabout at the end of the road to Bati that we travel along as far as Degan every day. Some gorgeous old pictures still decorate the dining room walls. Tekle’s managed to survive the sweep of nationalization during the 'socialist' regime that took power in the 1970s. A restaurant, bar and kitchens were added to three large bungalows - my guess is these were built during the Italian occupation - in a pretty sloping garden site at the edge of town in the 1980s. It’s a popular place with tourists and our booking has been misunderstood. After the first night, our basic but decent en suite rooms have to be vacated to accommodate a stream of what seems to be mainly Dutch tourists. Ron and Maria have a good size and easy access en suite room which we all end up using. Lorraine and Andrew have size and easy access to shared facilities. Sam and I have the necessary mozzie net and bed but little else. At least we are all in the same hotel with a restaurant for the duration of our stay thanks to some string pulling by the manager.
No pictures of the shared squat loo and (cold) shower are included. I didn't linger for fear of becoming prey for the resident mozzies and the memory is reminder enough.
We finally got underway about 10am in a much more comfortable vehicle than the minibus we hired for the trip – this Concern Land Cruiser has suspension as well as a ‘no fire arms’ sticker on the window.
The vehicle and the sign both begin to make sense at our destination, one of Degan High School’s feeder Primaries at Girar Amba. The village is small and seems barely accessible even after the minimal amount of rainfall since our arrival in the area. In an earlier video clip, the regional head of education Woizero (sp?) Wahad described it quite naturally as three hours walk from Degan, and that is no easy stroll. The route winds across a currently passable river-bed where a wide expanse of washed stones tells of wetter times. Along the edge of a not too deep but still dangerous to fall in canyon, up a rather muddy hill then around some steep and stony S bends. The country is stunning here with higher peaks painted on the horizon and healthy crops showing exactly why people choose to cope with the inconvenience of the location.
Round the final bend, the low roofs of single story buildings spaced around a clearing announce our arrival at the school. Local chiefs walk around with machine guns casually slung over shoulders and towering above the tiny figures spilling out of classrooms to inspect the visitors.
At one point, the guns are checked in with the mother of the house where we shelter from the rain that seems to follow us around. It is scarce and very welcome. She places the weapons casually on the bed under a mosquito net as if for protection. The house is basic, mud walls and tin roof. The by now familiar smell of these materials in the wet assaults my senses. I guess the senses become accustomed, though I am pleased not to be experiencing this for the first time in the height of the summer heat. I fear I might embarrass myself.
posted by Cathy Gunn at
October 22, 2007
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