06.10.04
Emily left yesterday for good, and we’re in Wando Gennet for two days while Abaineh drops her off in Addis. I think Andy and I both feel like the training wheels have been taken off our bikes, or like we’re in the pool for the first time without waterwings, floaties, now that she’s gone. We’re going to miss her. For the next four weeks, we’ll be here interacting with the team and getting data without an old hand.
Wando Gennet is a "resort" in the mountains above a beautiful valley on the east side of Lake Awasa, where several hot springs flow off the face of one of the mountains. They meet a cold stream on the way down and in several places--"Menelik’s shower," where a funneled bit cascaded off a small rock face into a clear pool, and the famed hot-spring pools that are the raison d’etre for the hotel/resort we’re at--are collected for swimming. Our delightful guides today, two 11-year-olds we met yesterday, told us from what must be a whole repertoire of small jokes they’ve been learning since they could hear, that "this is the farmer’s washboard." It made us laugh, but also made me wonder if they understand the humour--have they ever seen or known laundry to be cleaned in any other way besides in a stream like this? In Wolaita, it seems to be the only place for people to do laundry, in streams, or culverts.
The first day they followed us despite our attempts to be alone. We ignored them when they tried to tell us what different plants were, took the other path when we came to a fork and they tried to lead us somewhere, and refused to take their hands they offered for balance while they walked in the stream water and I picked my way across on stones. Jerk. I know. But it’s about PRINCIPLE. We had asked to be alone, and the rest of the crowd had respected our wishes. We liked them by the time we came off the mountain, though, and because it was dusk by then we had let them point the way home. I felt horrible and didn’t know what to do. Andy came up with an inspired solution.
When we got back to the hotel gate, they lingered. We waited to see what they would do. When they asked for money, we told them, "We did not hire you. We wanted to walk alone." Their little faces looked up at ours, eyebrows raised and forehead wrinkled in disappointment. Their little arms hung loosely at their sides. "Because we did not hire, we are not going to pay. But tomorrow, we would like to hire." Transformation! Huge happiness, excited agreements. We would meet tomorrow at 1:30pm, 7:30 Abesha time. They said they got out of school at 1pm, but I think we saw them hanging around the gate the whole morning.
Our second trip up the mountain was a different, much better, experience. They began by taking us to their home (they’re "best friends" with the same polygamous father and different mothers) and introducing us to their mothers who kindly offered us coffee while we sat on a bench in the dark across from a little calf. Shushing their little siblings who started singing and chanting for money, they led us up the road to the trail up the mountain, excitedly pointed out an avocado tree, warned us about stinging nettles, took us to the top to see a view of the valley and Lake Awasa spread out beneath us, walked us down past a field of chat ("Is not good for the cerubellum"--where did they learn that word?), to the source of the hot springs boiling out of the earth ("Eighty-five degrees Celcius.") and back to the hotel. It was really fun. Andy ran to get the camera so we could take a picture with them, and they asked if I was listening to music--I’d had little headphones in my ears the whole trip. I let them each have a listen, whispering into the microphone I was carrying. When they got that I’d been recording the whole thing the whole time, they started giggling, looking at me sideways, pausing and starting up again, unable to stop. It makes me want a translator for the lengths of space where they were speaking to each other in Amharic.
Wando Gennet is a "resort" in the mountains above a beautiful valley on the east side of Lake Awasa, where several hot springs flow off the face of one of the mountains. They meet a cold stream on the way down and in several places--"Menelik’s shower," where a funneled bit cascaded off a small rock face into a clear pool, and the famed hot-spring pools that are the raison d’etre for the hotel/resort we’re at--are collected for swimming. Our delightful guides today, two 11-year-olds we met yesterday, told us from what must be a whole repertoire of small jokes they’ve been learning since they could hear, that "this is the farmer’s washboard." It made us laugh, but also made me wonder if they understand the humour--have they ever seen or known laundry to be cleaned in any other way besides in a stream like this? In Wolaita, it seems to be the only place for people to do laundry, in streams, or culverts.
The first day they followed us despite our attempts to be alone. We ignored them when they tried to tell us what different plants were, took the other path when we came to a fork and they tried to lead us somewhere, and refused to take their hands they offered for balance while they walked in the stream water and I picked my way across on stones. Jerk. I know. But it’s about PRINCIPLE. We had asked to be alone, and the rest of the crowd had respected our wishes. We liked them by the time we came off the mountain, though, and because it was dusk by then we had let them point the way home. I felt horrible and didn’t know what to do. Andy came up with an inspired solution.
When we got back to the hotel gate, they lingered. We waited to see what they would do. When they asked for money, we told them, "We did not hire you. We wanted to walk alone." Their little faces looked up at ours, eyebrows raised and forehead wrinkled in disappointment. Their little arms hung loosely at their sides. "Because we did not hire, we are not going to pay. But tomorrow, we would like to hire." Transformation! Huge happiness, excited agreements. We would meet tomorrow at 1:30pm, 7:30 Abesha time. They said they got out of school at 1pm, but I think we saw them hanging around the gate the whole morning.
Our second trip up the mountain was a different, much better, experience. They began by taking us to their home (they’re "best friends" with the same polygamous father and different mothers) and introducing us to their mothers who kindly offered us coffee while we sat on a bench in the dark across from a little calf. Shushing their little siblings who started singing and chanting for money, they led us up the road to the trail up the mountain, excitedly pointed out an avocado tree, warned us about stinging nettles, took us to the top to see a view of the valley and Lake Awasa spread out beneath us, walked us down past a field of chat ("Is not good for the cerubellum"--where did they learn that word?), to the source of the hot springs boiling out of the earth ("Eighty-five degrees Celcius.") and back to the hotel. It was really fun. Andy ran to get the camera so we could take a picture with them, and they asked if I was listening to music--I’d had little headphones in my ears the whole trip. I let them each have a listen, whispering into the microphone I was carrying. When they got that I’d been recording the whole thing the whole time, they started giggling, looking at me sideways, pausing and starting up again, unable to stop. It makes me want a translator for the lengths of space where they were speaking to each other in Amharic.
posted by Johanna Buchert Smith at 5:08 AM
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