17.09.04
Today’s innovative use of the corncob: as a stopper in a jug for carrying water. The jug was big and yellow and looked like it had at one time held oil.
Today:
Went into 3 different tukalus
Saw silk worms and balls of unspun silk
Walked through fieilds to get to one of the patients who was sick and
The woman was being treated for blindness with burns--one on either side of her face, beside her eyes, and two on the back of her head, just above the nape of her neck in her hair--big sores with blistering skin. Baileyin explained to them that this was an unhealthy thing to do, not a healthy thing, and the man said "eshi, eshi," but something gives me the impression he doesn’t give a care what Baileyiin says about burning to ward off blindness.
On this walk, saw a well and a child hauling water from it on a long rope with a bucket at the end of it.
Andy and I practiced measuring heads and arms today on the throngs of kids who get such delight out of staring at us and poking us and laughing at/with us and thinking everything we do is fascinating.
One of the language things I’m not used to yet is the inhaled breath, the kind we do to express surprise or fright, that means simply, "yes." The French do it sometimes too, only they say oui at the same time.
Last night we went for a walk south on the paved road and turned right at the Mobil station. A gaggle of boys trailed us laughing and calling and occasionally getting close enough to touch us. Eventually they were up holding our hands (or holding theirs out saying, "one birrrrr, one birrrr, give me money, one birrrrr") and it turns out some of them speak some lovely Italian. A little more than I do, with an accent that doesn’t sound bad to my ear. Tonight we took the same walk, but didn’t get as far as the Mobil b/c we needed to head back for dinner with everyone from the office. I take back almost everything negative I’ve said or thought about Ethiopian food. Today was a "fasting" day--no meat for the Orthodox--so there was actually beans and cooked chard with our injera tonight instead of just greasy meat in a spicy sauce. Happily, we’re finding our gustatory spot here in Soddo: fasting days we will eat good vegetarian Ethiopian food. Breakfast, we have a bean fuul. Lunch: a loaf of bread and peanut butter, possibly bananas. Dinner, otherwise: Bekele Molla’s interpretation of American food, including Ambergers and Veal Cutelet. I’m sure it was. Best thing here is the veggie soup, which at least gives a hint of having good vitamins in it and possibly a tiny bit of soluble fiber.
In the last hut we went into, the subject/patient had just had a baby two days before. They let us see him--a teeny, beautiful little thing wrapped in light cottons in the back, in the dark. The women thought it was so hilarious that I wanted to see the baby, so hilarious that I cooed and cooed over him.
In the first hut, the son’s hut which was just next to the parent’s hut, one of the men asked if I had children. I explained no, but that Andy and I were married, making an imaginary line in the air between Andy and I, and showing the man my wedding ring. When people smiled knowingly, the man informed me that we would have children if we drank coffee. None of the Ethiopians we are working with had heard of this before. "Maybe because it keeps you up at night," is Emily’s suggested explanation. Mormons seem to manage somehow.
The last place we went, where the silk worms were, the kids thought it was hilarious when Andy tried out (not so successfully--"This is harder than it looks!") one of their toys. It’s a ring of metal, this was a 24-inch ring of coiled wire, that is kept rolling by a rod with a hook held in a kid’s hand. The kid runs with it and keeps the wheel rolling. It’s like the thing you see in pictures of kids in the States in the 50s. In front of where we were meeting the adults to be checked for trachoma/trachiasis was a long set of mud buildings with a few spaces between. I slid between to get to the other side of all the people and try to get a good picture of the mountain and greenery. Trailed by eager, obnoxious kids who would not stop leaping in front of the camera, me, or anything I looked at or pointed towards, until it was driving me crazy and I tried to get them all to sit in the crack between the houses so I could take their picture and show them. Once they found out they would be able to see themselves in the camera screen, I couldn’t keep them in front of the camera, they kept getting up and crowding me from behind. Seriously, these children have an entirely different concept of personal space. Or what is acceptable behaviour. Especially around feringhies, whiteys.
With some good stern looks, a snapshot, and some good herding skills, I got them all through the crack again and we ended up in a little herd where somehow we started exchanging words in English and Wolaytinga for body parts. They were entertained, interested, and challenged, and could offer something themselves, and it was fun. It didn’t last long since all the visits had been done. On the way to the car, Andy and Emily were laughing, and Andy said, "That was a Sound of Music moment."
It’s raining again tonight. We’re pretty sure that the clothes on the line outside aren’t ours that we saw hanging there this morning. I haven’t seen the goats that lived in our courtyard in two days, though the roosters are still most definitely there. They start their crowing about 4:30am and don’t quit until about 6:30am. The first call to prayer, about 6:00am, wakes me up every morning. We must be close to a mosque, though I haven’t seen it yet. My best sleep comes after call to prayer and before our alarm goes off at about 7:00. Then I lie in bed until I absolutely must get up at 7:15 so I can be down getting breakfast and in the car by 7:30. It drives Andy crazy.
I was in a bad mood all this mornign. When Andy finally asked me why I was being mean to him in the afternoon, my good reason sounded silly though it had made perfect sense up until I had to say it out loud. He had been a total jerk in my dream and everything he did all day seemed to validate it. He didn’t seem like such a jerk after that.
These days seem so matter of fact in some ways, but it catches me occasionally what we’re doing and it is so cool, even if we’re just temps plugging in for a moment. We are going out every day to rural villages in places where there are no roads, just paths in the deep red dirt, worn down by thick bare feet, and finding people, sometimes in their own homes, and looking at their eyes and participating (even if just barely) in an international research project. it’s just pretty cool.
Our hotel, we found out tonight, is 4 dollars a night--about 38 birr. Cheap, but also seems about right. I’ll have to describe it another night. Our next door neighbour has his driver park his big, white UN truck right in front of us everynight when he gets in at 9:30 pm. I heard him hock two big loogies tonight. The walls are thin here.
Also of interest: Andy and I both showered tonight. The hot water ran out just at the end of my shower, so it worked out well. Our shower head lets down a stream of water about a dime’s width that we stand under and get clean in. It feels wonderful. After climbing around in tukalus today and having my hands all over sweaty, dirty kids measuring their heads and arms, I felt like I needed a bath. I don’t mind malaria, I don’t’ mind a temporary skin disease. I just don’t want tropical lice. Or worms. Oh, gross gross gross, especially worms. Especially blood flukes. They are so foul. Did you know you can get worms in your LUNGS? Oh gross oh gross oh gross.
In a way, even though there are so many ways to be sick, it’s amazing that we aren’t all more sick more often. I’m reading Andy’s Where There Is No Doctor book about village health care. It’s interesting and disgusting and bizarre. Its very real here.
Emily says I can get a gabi for 80 or 90 birr. They’re beautiful and versatile. Sehel said she’d go with me to bargain for one.
Andy is asleep behind me. I need to go to bed. I hear him breathe quickly and shallowly or stop breathing for awhile and wonder what he is dreaming about.
Today:
Went into 3 different tukalus
Saw silk worms and balls of unspun silk
Walked through fieilds to get to one of the patients who was sick and
The woman was being treated for blindness with burns--one on either side of her face, beside her eyes, and two on the back of her head, just above the nape of her neck in her hair--big sores with blistering skin. Baileyin explained to them that this was an unhealthy thing to do, not a healthy thing, and the man said "eshi, eshi," but something gives me the impression he doesn’t give a care what Baileyiin says about burning to ward off blindness.
On this walk, saw a well and a child hauling water from it on a long rope with a bucket at the end of it.
Andy and I practiced measuring heads and arms today on the throngs of kids who get such delight out of staring at us and poking us and laughing at/with us and thinking everything we do is fascinating.
One of the language things I’m not used to yet is the inhaled breath, the kind we do to express surprise or fright, that means simply, "yes." The French do it sometimes too, only they say oui at the same time.
Last night we went for a walk south on the paved road and turned right at the Mobil station. A gaggle of boys trailed us laughing and calling and occasionally getting close enough to touch us. Eventually they were up holding our hands (or holding theirs out saying, "one birrrrr, one birrrr, give me money, one birrrrr") and it turns out some of them speak some lovely Italian. A little more than I do, with an accent that doesn’t sound bad to my ear. Tonight we took the same walk, but didn’t get as far as the Mobil b/c we needed to head back for dinner with everyone from the office. I take back almost everything negative I’ve said or thought about Ethiopian food. Today was a "fasting" day--no meat for the Orthodox--so there was actually beans and cooked chard with our injera tonight instead of just greasy meat in a spicy sauce. Happily, we’re finding our gustatory spot here in Soddo: fasting days we will eat good vegetarian Ethiopian food. Breakfast, we have a bean fuul. Lunch: a loaf of bread and peanut butter, possibly bananas. Dinner, otherwise: Bekele Molla’s interpretation of American food, including Ambergers and Veal Cutelet. I’m sure it was. Best thing here is the veggie soup, which at least gives a hint of having good vitamins in it and possibly a tiny bit of soluble fiber.
In the last hut we went into, the subject/patient had just had a baby two days before. They let us see him--a teeny, beautiful little thing wrapped in light cottons in the back, in the dark. The women thought it was so hilarious that I wanted to see the baby, so hilarious that I cooed and cooed over him.
In the first hut, the son’s hut which was just next to the parent’s hut, one of the men asked if I had children. I explained no, but that Andy and I were married, making an imaginary line in the air between Andy and I, and showing the man my wedding ring. When people smiled knowingly, the man informed me that we would have children if we drank coffee. None of the Ethiopians we are working with had heard of this before. "Maybe because it keeps you up at night," is Emily’s suggested explanation. Mormons seem to manage somehow.
The last place we went, where the silk worms were, the kids thought it was hilarious when Andy tried out (not so successfully--"This is harder than it looks!") one of their toys. It’s a ring of metal, this was a 24-inch ring of coiled wire, that is kept rolling by a rod with a hook held in a kid’s hand. The kid runs with it and keeps the wheel rolling. It’s like the thing you see in pictures of kids in the States in the 50s. In front of where we were meeting the adults to be checked for trachoma/trachiasis was a long set of mud buildings with a few spaces between. I slid between to get to the other side of all the people and try to get a good picture of the mountain and greenery. Trailed by eager, obnoxious kids who would not stop leaping in front of the camera, me, or anything I looked at or pointed towards, until it was driving me crazy and I tried to get them all to sit in the crack between the houses so I could take their picture and show them. Once they found out they would be able to see themselves in the camera screen, I couldn’t keep them in front of the camera, they kept getting up and crowding me from behind. Seriously, these children have an entirely different concept of personal space. Or what is acceptable behaviour. Especially around feringhies, whiteys.
With some good stern looks, a snapshot, and some good herding skills, I got them all through the crack again and we ended up in a little herd where somehow we started exchanging words in English and Wolaytinga for body parts. They were entertained, interested, and challenged, and could offer something themselves, and it was fun. It didn’t last long since all the visits had been done. On the way to the car, Andy and Emily were laughing, and Andy said, "That was a Sound of Music moment."
It’s raining again tonight. We’re pretty sure that the clothes on the line outside aren’t ours that we saw hanging there this morning. I haven’t seen the goats that lived in our courtyard in two days, though the roosters are still most definitely there. They start their crowing about 4:30am and don’t quit until about 6:30am. The first call to prayer, about 6:00am, wakes me up every morning. We must be close to a mosque, though I haven’t seen it yet. My best sleep comes after call to prayer and before our alarm goes off at about 7:00. Then I lie in bed until I absolutely must get up at 7:15 so I can be down getting breakfast and in the car by 7:30. It drives Andy crazy.
I was in a bad mood all this mornign. When Andy finally asked me why I was being mean to him in the afternoon, my good reason sounded silly though it had made perfect sense up until I had to say it out loud. He had been a total jerk in my dream and everything he did all day seemed to validate it. He didn’t seem like such a jerk after that.
These days seem so matter of fact in some ways, but it catches me occasionally what we’re doing and it is so cool, even if we’re just temps plugging in for a moment. We are going out every day to rural villages in places where there are no roads, just paths in the deep red dirt, worn down by thick bare feet, and finding people, sometimes in their own homes, and looking at their eyes and participating (even if just barely) in an international research project. it’s just pretty cool.
Our hotel, we found out tonight, is 4 dollars a night--about 38 birr. Cheap, but also seems about right. I’ll have to describe it another night. Our next door neighbour has his driver park his big, white UN truck right in front of us everynight when he gets in at 9:30 pm. I heard him hock two big loogies tonight. The walls are thin here.
Also of interest: Andy and I both showered tonight. The hot water ran out just at the end of my shower, so it worked out well. Our shower head lets down a stream of water about a dime’s width that we stand under and get clean in. It feels wonderful. After climbing around in tukalus today and having my hands all over sweaty, dirty kids measuring their heads and arms, I felt like I needed a bath. I don’t mind malaria, I don’t’ mind a temporary skin disease. I just don’t want tropical lice. Or worms. Oh, gross gross gross, especially worms. Especially blood flukes. They are so foul. Did you know you can get worms in your LUNGS? Oh gross oh gross oh gross.
In a way, even though there are so many ways to be sick, it’s amazing that we aren’t all more sick more often. I’m reading Andy’s Where There Is No Doctor book about village health care. It’s interesting and disgusting and bizarre. Its very real here.
Emily says I can get a gabi for 80 or 90 birr. They’re beautiful and versatile. Sehel said she’d go with me to bargain for one.
Andy is asleep behind me. I need to go to bed. I hear him breathe quickly and shallowly or stop breathing for awhile and wonder what he is dreaming about.
posted by Johanna Buchert Smith at 4:01 AM
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