Second Impressions

Hello “Western” world…and I guess a few readers who live in the “non-Western” world.  (That distinction is still sort of lost on me since the earth is a sphere, but for the sake of convention and laziness, I’ll use it).  It’s been a really hectic and volatile second/third week here in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, which is the main reason why it has taken me so long to write another post.  I think I’ll try to update this once a week, but that entirely depends on my schedule and mood.  It’s such a blessing to be able to write without any deadlines after four years of sleep-deprivation, bleary eyes, and sprinting to turn papers in on time; we’ll see if I’m at all productive, blog-wise.

But onto why the past few days (okay, more like the past two weeks) have been crazy.  First, the Ethiopian Prime Minister, Meles Zenawi, and the Ethiopian Pope (the head of the Ethiopian Orthodox church) both died within days of each other.  There had been some speculation about Meles, since he was abroad for a month, but his death still came as something of a surprise and may well shake up the country’s political scene. After all, he had been in power as both president (1991-1995) and prime minister (1995-2012) for over twenty years.

Not surprisingly, there has been a lot of mourning recently—for both leaders.  More than a week and a half later, their deaths still monopolize TV programs, radio shows, and even conversations.  (Michael Jackson, anyone?)  Although my Amharic is worse than elementary, it’s easy to make out the name “Meles” when it’s repeated over and over again. 

Vendors sell photos of Meles on the streets, which then get plastered on minibuses, restaurants, hotels, and some home interiors.  There are shrines throughout Addis, and when Meles’ body was returned to Ethiopia, habeshas flocked to see the motorcade make its way through the city.  Funeral-related traffic has been crazy, and the police have shut down major streets during remembrances.  Perhaps most impressively, I went to a restaurant where the entire staff was decked in shirts prominently displaying Meles’ face.

Both TV and radio programs play solemn tribute music—featuring either a solo flute or piano—ad-nauseam. The music sometimes wakes me up as it’s blasted from different shops down the street, but it lulls me back asleep when I half-consciously listen on my way to work. Solo flute now provides the soundtrack of choice for restaurants and bars—especially those that can afford TVs, which almost inevitably broadcast some form of Meles tribute.  Frankly, I think the music is rather dull and repetitive, but I guess that’s not really the point; it’s played as a form of mourning.  I also always hear people humming along—including my driver—so I suppose I’m in the minority. Ubiquitous mourning music is an interesting phenomenon, and I don’t think there is a comparable tradition in the U.S. 

This has photo has nothing to do with the content of this post, but it helps break up the flow of text.

While the two deaths have shaken life in the country as a whole, my life in particular has also been pretty hectic.  (OK, that was a forced and kind of terrible transition, but the freedom to do that without any consequences—other than you exiting this page in disgust—is still a novelty.  Sorry.)  We sent a group of twelve patients to India for heart surgery on Wednesday, and it was gratifying to finally see them go, though of course it will be even more gratifying to see their healthy return.  It was also clear that the surgeries were urgent, as two patients died within weeks of the trip.  Even once we made it to the airport, a patient with a tumor in his heart struggled to walk to the plane.  I’ll provide updates on the surgeries as they come.

Not surprisingly, most of our work last week involved preparing for the trip…taking care of visas/passports, medical consent, keeping track of documents, booking flights, and making this brochure to help fund the surgeries.  We also recently started working with Watsi, a terrific organization/website that applies crowd-funding to low cost health care in the developing world.  You can donate what may seem like a trivial amount of money in the “Western” world (e.g. $10) and significantly contribute towards a life-saving heart surgery.  The website seems like it’s taken off; three of our patients are already fully funded, and we should have more up on the site shortly.

Some hot peppers.

After we sent the India patients on their way, one of Rick’s kids, a former spine patient who has lived in Rick’s house for the past several years, left later that night to attend high school in Ohio. He received his visa Wednesday afternoon, and then they booked him a flight for Wednesday night.  Talk about a quick turnaround; I can’t imagine having to pack a year’s worth of stuff in just a few hours!  But Americans have tons of stuff that we think we can’t live without (see: how can I go two days without my smart phone?), and we make like five Target runs before leaving home for a week.  (I made two Target runs and like three CVS runs before moving to Africa for a year, so I feel pretty good about myself).  In Ethiopia, for the most part, people have a lot less stuff, and a hell of a lot less junk.  In fact, American “junk” often becomes rather valuable here.  There are entire markets in Addis filled with not only used clothes, but also used electrical appliances, kitchenware, and toilet parts.  (The markets remind me of the “big market” in Freetown, which doubles as a touristy craft-market and spare toilet part depository).  It can sometimes seem like everything is worth something here…when I put out my laundry in a tote bag, our maid also washed the bag! 

I have slightly mixed-feelings about this, since at times it seems like the “Western” world just dumps stuff on Africa—without much oversight and local partnership—and thinks that it qualifies as aid.  Just because people use used things does not mean they want your ripped and stained crap.  As my friend Cat says in her recent blog post, “…garbage is garbage is garbage.  OUR problem of consumerism cannot be thrown over an ocean for someone else to deal with.”   

But while I think it’s important to think carefully about aid in itself and the possible consequences arising from certain kinds of aid or “aid,” I usually dig the whole using-used-stuff thing.  There certainly aren’t recycling PSA’s here—and I have yet to meet any liberal-arts-school grade environmentalists—but there is a whole recycling culture born out of necessity…or at least “fiscal responsibility.”  People reuse everything! 

But don’t get the idea that this is some kind of environmental utopia.  There aren’t really emission regulations here, so there is a lot of pollution.  Trash collection isn’t the best either, and I hear that loggers have demolished some high percentage of the country’s forests.  Still, the air is a lot cleaner out in the country, and I look forward to breathing once I have some time to travel.

There still are some country elements in Addis, though.  Here Bayelgn, a friend and colleague, wrestles a goat.

Anyway, Ohio is a bit different than Addis, so he’s certainly in for a trip…literally.  His whole departure was made even more ridiculous by the fact that a film crew followed him around during his last few hours in Ethiopia. 

The film crew arrived early last week to film this documentary about Zemene, another former patient who now lives at Rick’s house.  It’s been great having them, but I’m still not used to having my every move be on camera.  They filmed basically everything that went on at Rick’s house—from silly conversations, to me sitting on my computer sending emails.  It seems like they’re onto a very compelling story, and it’ll be great to see the final product.  And yeah, being a movie star would be cool too.

There is so much more to write about, including my guard’s quasi-wedding last weekend.  But you’ll have to wait till next entry to read about that…if I haven’t scared you away yet.