Merry World AIDS Day!

I wore my AIDS ribbon to work on Saturday. It's red, and beaded, with the colours of the Kenyan flag (green, black, white and red) at the bottom, and was given to me by a new friend active on Campus and in East Africa.

As I pinned it to my top in the morning, I wondered how many people would acknowledge it and get into some discussion surrounding World AIDS Day. As a waitress, I wondered how bringing peoples' attention to something unpleasant- like incurable disease- would affect my tips.

I was unprepared, however, for the response I did get: people kept mistaking my pin for a Christmas decoration! More than once, I received exclamations of, "Wow, you look so festive!"

Sorry. I'm not so much 'festive' as trying to be globally conscious.

I visited some of the activities at U of T as part of the Day, and I must admit I was disappointed. I felt that there could be more NGOs represented, more links between student groups and groups from the wider community, more coordination of events on campus. I was frustrated that I didn't feel it was enough (granted I didn't make it to the main event at Hart House because I was busy serving pancakes on Queen Street).

My amazement that people would mistake my ribbon for a nod to Xmas, and my feeling that the university community should do so much more made me realize how just because I see this issue as a 'big deal' doesn't mean that everyone does. Sometimes you can get lost in a bubble of activists and activism and totally forget that you are virtually invisible to the outside world.

All You Need to Know About AIDS in Africa

Stephen Lewis, the former UN Special Envoy for AIDS in Africa, called Stephanie Nolen's 28 Stories of AIDS in Africa, "the best book ever written about AIDS". I must admit that I was skeptical- how could a relatively short book of stories encapsulate this massive epidemic? By the time I'd finished the third of 28 stories, I'd changed my mind.

Nolen successfully uses 28 human experiences of HIV/AIDS, gathered over years of reporting on the issue, to tackle each aspect of the pandemic: orphans, access to treatment, medical research, AIDS in conflict zones and within the military, at-risk groups such as truck drivers and sex workers, African political and international humanitarian approaches to HIV, experiences of children, women, elites, couples, families, activists, and the poorest of the poor. Her approach left me more knowledgable, and intermittently heartbroken and ready for action. The book critically examines the role of each actor in the pandemic, from international to local in the present and since the first recorded infection. It emphasizes the complexity of the crisis, most importantly its intrinsic links to poverty, as well as including a vital section on how you can help.

Effectively, Nolen has written a book that provides an overview of the political, historical, cultural, and economic realities of HIV/AIDS in Africa while constantly drawing the reader back to one fundemental point: HIV/AIDS is first and foremost a human issue. She quotes Nelson Mandela (he is the main character in the 27th story), "Overcoming poverty is not a gesture of charity; it is an act of justice" (353).

Buy itfor everyone on your Christmas list.

Internationalism's last chance?

Doug Saunders of the Globe and Mail has just written an interesting piece about Bernard Kouchner (the father of humanitairan action) in the role of France's foreign minister. Check it out here.

Living in Defiance of Despair: Hope in the Balance

This weekend, as six of Random House’s authors deeply embedded within humanitarian issues in Africa spoke during what was an epic (9 hour) seminar on the subject, each participant struggled to define the word ‘hope’ in a humanitarian context. Marilyn McHarg (MSF), James Orbinski (Nobel prize winner for MSF, currently Dignitas International), Stephanie Nolen (Globe and Mail’s Africa correspondant), Romeo Dallaire (Led peacekeeping mission to Rwanda in 1994), Chimamanda Adichie (Orange broadband prize winning novelist), and Stephen Lewis (former UN Envoy for Aids in Africa), or as I like to refer to them, the Canadian ‘development glitterati,’ each found a different definition. The result was a variety of voices, each with often contradictory visions of “humanitarianism in the 21st century.”

Of course I can’t attempt to cover each point covered in the extraordinarily long session at the University of Toronto’s Convocation Hall, but I’ll try to touch on some of the highlights.

Marilyn McHarg saw humanitarian action as “creating space for hope,” and in the same vain, James Orbinski suggested, “Hope is about possibility”. It was interesting to see the way in which they differed, however, given that Orbinski is a former director of the organization McHarg now represents. While McHarg toed the company line and focused on the apolitical nature of humanitarianism in general, Orbinski emphasized how we may like to look at humanitarianism as simply addressing human suffering, but “human suffering does not take place in a political vacuum”. He went on to discuss the ways in which MSF and other organizations acted politically in order to address issues of human suffering, including increasing access to anti-retroviral drugs in Africa. One of the key topics that Orbinski seems to focus on in his writing and speaking which I find particularly interesting is the detrimental impact of military-delivered humanitarian action. This led to some respectful but adamant opposition from Romeo Dallaire, who during his hour emphasized that the only way to confront the new forms of conflict was through coordination of military, political and humanitarian aspects. Adichie didn’t weigh in on this particular debate, but although she claimed to be “only a story teller,” she articulated strong sentiments on how change and hope must come from within Africa itself.

My favourite speaker, however, was Stephanie Nolen for her frank and passionate discussion of her experience as a journalist covering HIV/AIDS in Africa. Far from the polished and formal presentations of the others, Nolen FELT her way through her 20 minute talk, and then intermittently teared-up and cussed while being interviewed by moderator Gillian Findlay. Her message to us? “We do more than we did, but that’s not enough…The Gap makes a t-shirt about AIDS. You can’t say you don’t know there’s a problem. Real foreign aid starts here.”
___________________________________________
To read:

Stephanie Nolen:28: Stories of AIDS in Africa

James Orbinski: An Imperfect Offering: Humanitarian Action for the 21st Century

Stephen Lewis: Race Against Time: Searching for Hope in AIDS-Ravaged Africa (CBC Massey Lecture)

Romeo Dallaire: Shake Hands with the Devil: The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda

Chimamanda Adichie: Half of a Yellow Sun

AIDS Blame Game

The Globe and Mail published a story about the findings of one US academic today: according to researcher Michael Worobey, it is possible to trace the initial cases of HIV in the United States to Haitian immigrants, rather than a US sex tourist returned from a vacation on the island. This article, and the research in general, is a punch in the face for those working to reduce the racial stereotyping that comes along with the pandemic.

During the initial stages of the pandemic in the 1980s and 1990s, Haitians suffered stigma and stereotypes, even to the point of being blamed for ‘causing’ the disease’s appearance in America. Needless to say, attributing such a devastating illness to one ethnic group (or one sexuality) leads to racism, as well as a variety of other ‘isms’, and it’s taken significant efforts to mitigate the damage done by this Haiti-Aids association. In his book, Aids and Accusation: Haiti and the Geography of Blame, Paul Farmer tackles this issue and anthropological perspectives of health head on.

By publishing this study, the Globe and Mail risks bringing those out-of-date stereotypes back to life, and for what purpose? It seems to me that the US’s desire to firmly release themselves of blame (it wasn’t one of their citizens that brought the virus to America after all) is counter productive to attempts to ensure that every individual makes efforts to protect him or herself, regardless of their (or their sexual partner’s) origin. While this type of research may be important for disease epidemiology, it also works to “distance” those who feel they don’t fit into the victim profile—formerly, Haitian or homosexual, currently, African.

I’d rather see the opposite, a ‘proximity’: understanding the role that we all have in relation to HIV/AIDS- protecting ourselves, and helping to remove barriers to prevention and treatment for others.
______________________________________________
Upcoming Development Events:
Saturday, Nov. 3: Hope in the Balance
Nov 4-17: UN Exhibit "Lessons from Rwanda" (UofT Multifaith Centre)

World Press 2007

I'm never quite prepared for the intensity of the World Press Photo Exhibit. I'm always very excited to go, and then get stopped in my excitement tracks when I get there. I start having to breathe slower, prepare myself for what's around the corner. Zahra made the comment yesterday as we stepped from image to image, that what is hard to process is that there had to be someone there to take the photo. There had to be someone watching the man getting shot, the baby being burried, the gas main breaking, the boy waiting for interrogation by US troops in Iraq. It's hard to imagine being there.

Some of the ones that stuck with me include:

A ruined town in Kashmir, with rows and rows of men praying towards Mecca in the rubble of their mosque (Espen Rasmussen)


The juxtaposition of a group of African migrants arriving on the shores of the Canary Islands, and the bikini-clad toursits they enountered (Arturo Rodriguez)


Contestants in the Ms. Senior Sweetheart beauty pagent (Magnus Wennman)

The Best of the Press

Heading to the World Press Photo Exhibit tomorrow. I always look forward to this event as it passes through Toronto each year. It mixes global events with art in a way that's stunning, and equal parts heart-wrenching and humorous. I highly recommend checking it out in person, but if it isn't coming through your town/city, you can have a look at the gallery here.

In other development news, I attended the Branding AIDS Conference last week. Interested as I am innovative engagement, I was curious to hear academic and practical perspectives on what Bono terms "off the rack enlightenment". Keynote speaker Lisa Ann Richey provided an interesting critique of comodifying AIDS with a specific focus on (Product) RED and the Africa Issue of Vanity Fair that I talked about in a previous post. Her research is a work in progress but focuses on how "heroic shopping"...

- Could undermine hard won gains towards corporate social responsibility by focusing not on people, planet and profit, but just profit.

- Lacks the transparency and accountability of traditional aid agencies.

- Oversimplifies the issue of AIDS into slogans: "all it takes is two pills per day" (without recognizing how difficult it really is to live on ARVs in Africa).

- Doesn't recognize the (unequal) relationship between producers and consumers, but rather sees AIDS as an anomaly in a system that usually works fine.

I'm eager to see Richey's critique develop. For now, you can see her working paper here.

As the conference continued, I felt that it deteriorated into a more general debate about issues surrounding HIV/AIDS, one totally beyond the scope of a half day conference. At one point I got up and (very nervously) asked about whether the panel saw the possibility for using "compassionate consumption" as an initial "hook" leading to mainstream awareness, and how they felt an individual's interest in wearing a (RED)tshirt or carrying a (RED)iPod could be translated into more engaged action. The only reply was that everyone should start reading Lenin...not something I felt had very practical application in the current response to the AIDS pandemic.

In general, though, it was a really interesting session. As usual, I'm excited to be a participant in development understanding as it happens.

Next up in the Fall Lineup of Development Events, Hope in the Balance, a day with Canada's development glitterati.

Ideas Worth Spreading

Back from Africa and in the world of mega bandwidth, I've lately been indulging in the internet's video offerings, mostly on YouTube and TV Links. Now that I've exhausted the most recent season of Grey's Anatomy, I was lucky enough to stumble upon TEDTalks thanks to referrals from friends and fellow development bloggers. As far as I understand it, Technology, Entertainment and Design (TED) is a series of conferences with the world's experts, during which the participants give 20 minute presentations on innovative research, initiatives and perspectives about the world around them. Recently, they've decided to post the TEDTalks online for public access, including the most recent set focused on Africa: The Next Chapter. I have only watched a couple so far, but am impressed by the diversity of their content, and the exciting new ideas they present. Certainly a 20 minutes better spent than with the melodramatic characters that fill the fictional Seattle Grace Hospital!

Hope in the Balance

It seems like development is all around. Maybe I've just got development coloured glasses on, but it is as if we're getting more and more into this notion of humanitarianism; in every magazine or newspaper, there seems to be at least one mention of international charity. For me, this is a good and a bad thing. On one side, the developing world becomes synonymous with humanitarian crisis, because all we hear from places like Africa is bad news. In an interesting speech by Andrew Mwenda, posted on Development Crossing, he says "Africa has 53 countries. Of these, only 6 of them currently have civil war. The media therefore only report on 6 countries." On the other hand, though, while Africa iteslf isn't a humanitarian crisis, it does face huge challenges related to poverty, health, and governance. So even if the development issues are disproportionately represented in the media, it's not for us in the West to lose our focus.

Of the 6 countries currently embroiled in civil war, the one we pay most attention to is Darfur. Last week I was able to attend the Darfur:Darfur exhibit at the ROM, the effort of someone outside the bubble of development, but certainly a humanitarian. The aim was to bring awareness to the tragedy currently taking place in Sudan, while at the same time presenting images and music of culture and daily life in the country. The general message? Africa is a continent home to both humanitarian crisis and real life. And we can't forget the second aspect, letting our tendency to think of Africa as a project take over.

For me this was one of the biggest realizations I had in Ethiopia. I'd expected cultural isolation, lonliness and a drastic drop in my standard of living. I was surprised (but entirely happy) to find the contrary, and I settled into a 'real life' for my ten months there. I witnessed poverty and hardship, but that was only a small portion of my overall experience of the country. I'm excited to look at this in more depth in my Africa in the 21st Century course this semester, as we attempt to 'think about Africa as a living place rather than merely as a site for intellectual [and humanitarian] speculation and study.'

Toronto in the World: Upcoming Events
The Branding AIDS Conference
Hope in the Balance

Special Issue: Africa

Old news is sometimes good news! As I sat in Timothy’s coffee today, adjusting to student life once again, I picked up the July 2007 Vanity Fair. The words Special Issue: Africa were blazoned across the cover, against the background of the smiling faces of Bill and Melinda Gates, and Warrant Buffet. Apparently, the magazine put out 20 different covers that month, all featuring different actors in the current era of philanthropy and activism on behalf of Africa. Not just limited to the cover, “Africa” (in the humanitarian sense) was featured throughout the magazine in articles, photographs and even advertisements (ie, the Red Campaign available at the Gap).

My interest in how we’re getting the message about issues of poverty, HIV/AIDS, and debt in Africa out in North America and Europe is keen; I’m always on the look out for new and innovative ways that individuals, NGOs and companies engaging in the continent. Two months ago, Vanity Fair succeeded in just that. By having Bono (Africa’s self appointed spokesperson) guest edit, the one time fashion magazine was fully co-opted by the movement for change in Africa (or at least one branch of it). The result? A huge group of readers (regular and not), that probably aren’t quite as engaged in the issues as, say, subscribers of the African Economist, were given a pile of information on issues far outside their usual attention.

Although in the development world we constantly question the quality of the interventions performed by these mainstream/celebrity activists, I feel like the initial pull of fame endorsing an issue is important. Get people interested, and only then turn them into critics. The sheer number of people that tune in to big name humanitarian assistance makes them incredible useful, as far as I’m concerned. Even if you don’t believe in Madonna approach to development, its difficult to disagree that it’s better to have her on board than not.

Media moments like this one just passed- the Vanity Fair Africa Special Issue- give me confidence that Africa’s issues are becoming more important to us, here in the West. They are finding their way onto our agenda through interesting and innovative venues. It gives me butterflies in my stomach.

Check out: the Darfar: Darfur exhibit at the ROM in Toronto- From Dusk to 11pm every day between September 8 and 17. Or visit www.darfurdarfur.org.

Memories Fading Fast

I'm upset at how fast and easily I've reintegrated into North America. It might sound peculiar, but I feel that in some way it belittles my time spent in Ethiopia. I hate how my memories are fixed, in complete opposition to the dynamism that I experienced while living there. It's almost as if, except for the photos and friends made, that I've never even set foot in Addis. I feel like it's too soon that my Habesha memories have been transferred from present tense into past tense.

To top it all off, I'm experiencing devastating writers block...I planned to come back and write write write about Ethiopia and it's wonders and our missconceptions from this side of the Atlantic. No such luck. It would seem that the words only come in situ.

The only solution is to go back!

Without Wat

A month back from Ethiopia and I'm having all the normal reactions. I feel as if my ten month internship was a dream, leaving me questioning whether it really happened at all. I've only just started getting used to walking by a line of cars and not having conversations with people about my skin colour through the windows. But perhaps the most difficult thing of all was going for Ethiopian food for the first time since being outside of the country.

Before I left for my placement, I ate Ethiopian once every couple of months, quite rarely given how often I ate the other ethnic staples- Japanese, Thai, Somali, Italian, Chinese, Middle Eastern, Mediterranean, Indian. A plate of wat and injera was a special treat. In fact, two years ago, my boyfriend and I went for Ethiopian food on our first date. When I asked CPAR's Ethiopian country director how the Canadian version of his cultural eats compared with the real thing on one of his visits to the CPAR-Toronto office, he just smiled and laughed politely.

I spent my first couple of weeks in the CPAR-Ethiopia canteen with tears in my eyes as my new coworkers piled heaps of too spicy wat, berbere and mitmita on my plate. After my first trip to the field, the idea of another bite of injera (which I'd just eaten for breakfast, lunch and dinner for four days straight) was enough to make my stomach turn. I came well prepared for the second trip with Mars bars, which I privately ate for breakfast.

But somewhere in the middle of my Christmas vacation, I began craving the food of which I'd been so tired. I happily stepped into the first hotel I saw when I arrived home to Addis and dug into a huge plate of tibs and shiro.

As I prepared to leave Ethiopia in June, the messages of those who'd left before me were pretty consistant: eat as much injera as you can before you leave...it's just not the same.

Last week, I went for Ethiopian food in North America for the first time in a year. Excited to show my friends what I'd feasted on, I enthusiastically ordered kitfo (raw beef), gomen (kale) and ayeb (cottage cheese), my three favourite dishes. After a month of withdrawal, I could practically taste the huge dish covered with injera with portions of red, white and green before it arrived. I confidently ripped a piece of injera off...and it crumbled in my hand. The tangy and supple staple of my memories doesn't exist here.

The absence experienced by my tastebuds is similar to that experienced by my heart.

Click here for a reflection piece I wrote on the CPAR website.

Tips for Reintegration

They say that returning home after spending time in a different country can be harder than adjusting to life away in the first place. My culture shock comes in waves, alternating between experiencing pleasant surprises of ‘home’ and marveling at its deficiencies. Most significantly, I find myself asking, ‘is this it?’ as I participate in conversations and activities that don’t seem quite as vital as those I experienced in Ethiopia. One week in, here’s a list of tips for others in the same situation:

1. Don’t go home.
After a day in Toronto, I continued on to Boston where I’ll spend the last two months of the summer. Being in a new place provides excellent distraction from not being in Addis any longer, a distraction that wouldn’t be possible in a familiar city.

2. Join Facebook.
Adding the friends that you made overseas helps ease the transition away from roommates, coworkers and buddies, and into new interactions. I feel less lonely for my friends in Addis because I can keep track of their lives and converse with them on a daily basis. It makes them seem not quite so far away.

3. Stay involved.
If you were working for a company or ngo overseas, organize some tasks for yourself to do upon returning home. CPAR has asked me to do some writing for its newsletters, and I have some follow up to do with CAPAIDS. These tasks also provide a link with the life I lived in Ethiopia, and help mitigate the feelings of uselessness that comes from leaving a job I loved.

4. Link with other recent returnees.
On my first night back, I went to a bbq with some friends who I’d met in Addis. I’m afraid I might have overused their sympathetic ears, but being able to talk to someone who related was great. One of my friends hadn’t left the house since arriving back three weeks ago!

5. Channel your feelings of withdrawal.
Work on something related to your experience helps to minimize the feeling that the whole thing was a dream. Some suggestions: write an article about the country you visited for an online publication, organize a small fundraiser for an organization you became familiar with overseas, do a presentation for the organization you were overseas with…

Home?

My first question when I got off the plane in Toronto was, “What am I doing here?” I have repeated the question over and over again in the four days I’ve been on North American soil. People keep saying things about “home” and “safe” in their conversations with me now that I’m back, but I find that those words don’t really apply. The friends I made in Addis gave me a terrific send off, with a party on Friday night, a breakfast in my honour on Saturday morning, and finally hugs at the airport on Saturday evening. As I looked at them, I saw “home” in their faces and my surroundings: my Kazanchis neighbourhood with its busy sidewalks and characters, the blue and white taxis that populate Addis, and the ubiquitous white cloth that covers its (female) resident's heads. The city is more home to me than Toronto ever has been.

The two things that have struck me most in North America since my return have been food and safety. To generalize the first, everyone is always eating here. In the airport, everyone passed the time before their flights by snacking. I bet most of them weren’t even hungry. The evening I arrived, I attended a Canada Day BBQ, which consisted primarily of 6 hours of non-stop eating. I could barely walk out the door, because I kept eating long after I had my fill. And the things that are being consumed here are so much larger than I remembered- tomatoes the size of baseballs, meal portions bigger than my head, and jerry cans full of sugary beverages.

And safety. What is this assumption that Africa is unsafe? Sure, it has more disease and probably more car accidents than in Canada, but it’s not those things we focus on. I was struck by the constant direction given by parents (not my own), signs and PA systems instructing me on how to be ‘safe’. Like in the airport, a voice without a face told me regularly to, “Please stay to the right of the moving sidewalk so that others can pass safely on the left.” Signs in the Boston subway emphasized a safe and happy Fourth of July. People seem to be glad that I’m home safe, but I must admit that I never felt particularly unsafe in Ethiopia.

So, here I am in North America once again. They’re right when they say Africa gets under your skin. But I’m trying to count my blessings, including McDonalds cheeseburgers, speedy internet, and loved ones.

Up for Grabs

There’s nothing like a bit of harassment to make you realize that you’re not in Canada anymore. Today, while taking friends of my roommate on a tour of Merkato, Addis’ main market, I gave specific attention to keeping my purse close and out of the hands of thieves. Turns out, I should have also been taking care of more personal assets to keep them out of the hands of passers by. As we strolled happily, though slightly out of place, down the busy streets of the market, a boy in the oncoming traffic managed in a split second to grab my breast without breaking stride and continue down the quasi sidewalk with his giggling friends. Held back by my limited Amharic, I managed to get out a very stern “what is it?”, rather than a sentence containing significantly more expletives, and probably something about how it is unacceptable to fondle someone without an invite. In reality, the episode ended right there, but later I got to thinking about how my reaction exemplified my identity, gender issues, and the overall circumstances of security and rule of law here in Ethiopia.

In general, I tend to identify less with being a woman than a human being, but in this case I certainly felt it was a gendered incident. Also, the incident proved how, despite how at home I feel here, I will always be an outsider, limited by my language abilities and the stereotypes of foreigners. If I’d confronted the grabber, those around me would likely have thought, “oh, just another farenji getting angry.” I think we have this reputation from our overly aggressive approach to getting local prices, as well as our intolerance of lateness, less than perfect craftsmanship and being perpetually treated like we’ve just arrived in Ethiopia. Finally, if I’d approached the police about it, it’s possible that I would have been laughed at to my face (if the police hadn’t used it as an excuse to ‘round up all the youth in Merkato and take them away).

The identities made vivid by this encounter- being a woman and a foreigner- made me think of how the situation would have been different if it had happened in Canada. First, those around me would have been on my side. Second, I would have had the language ability to confront the grabber. And third, I would have the satisfaction of filing a police report (though likely nothing would come of it in the future.) Here, I felt there was absolutely nothing that I could do about the problem. Even discussing it later didn’t help, as those that I told completely denied the sexual aspect of it and focused instead on the incident as an unsuccessful attempt to steal my purse. This is the daily reality of most women here: a complete lack of options to act on sexual, psychological and physical gender based harassment that occurs.

Certainly, my up for grabs experience by no means represents my overall Ethiopian experience; except for this incident, I’ve found Habeshas nothing but respectful. And an isolated grab is nothing in the face of continued human rights violations in this country.

Socially Conscious Web 2.0

Over the past months here in Ethiopia, I’ve managed to fall deeper into Web 2.0. For those of you not as enamored as I am, Web 2.0 is the latest generation of internet applications that feature user-driven content (like wikipedia, youtube, flickr, myspace…). My first foray into Web 2.0 is what you’re looking at right now: my blog. Since its inception, I’ve managed to join various online networking, photo and social book marking sites as well. And as someone who’s interested in getting Canadians and others involved in international development issues, I tend to look for the social consciousness in Web 2.0. I’ve been delighted to find several ways in which the internet is promoting the causes I feel passionate about.

For starters, I’m part of two online networking sites that are engaged in promoting community activism and global awareness: www.takingitglobal.com and www.idealist.org. These two sites allow you to link with others working for positive change, share your experience, and even find jobs within the field. TakingITGlobal focuses on getting youth around the world to increase their involvement through contributing to newsletters, developing artists’ pages, and joining organizations working on development issues online. I post my blog there as well, and have taken an online course on fundraising that they provided. Idealist.org has two neat components, the first mobilizing its members to increase dialogue on community and global issues through holding forums in their area, and the second allowing its members to build volunteer and speaker profiles to become more active in their causes. Both have allowed me to connect with other individuals who are interested in the same issues that I am.

As well, both the organizations I work for have online fundraising strategies that make use of Web 2.0 applications. For example, CAPAIDS annual Bike A Thon, which raises money to buy bikes for frontline Aids workers in Africa, is facilitated through an individualized donation system. Using a template, I can personalize my own donation page, including photos and my fundraising goals, and then send the link to friends and family. They can then donate online with their credit card, which means that instead of going door to door like I used to in high school, I can reach friends overseas or family back in Victoria.

Today I came across one of my most exciting discoveries so far, on the ubiquitous social networking site, Facebook. Usually reserved for connecting with friends you didn’t even know you knew and posting photos of last night’s debaucheries, Facebook has recently made an application available where you can feature a “cause” on your profile page and invite your friends to support the cause, and make donations if they choose. I looked at some of the most popular, and even though the Causes application has only been available for a few days, there have already been significant contributions. This from a demographic that purportedly thinks more about beer than poverty. CPAR hasn’t joined yet, as all the organizations available so far are based in the US, but I’m excited to feature the organization on my profile when they are listed, and encourage my friends to forget their student loan payments for a moment and support my Cause.

Hopefully this will encourage those of you who are holding out against Web 2.0 to dive right in!

If you do, here’s where to find me:

Site Username Description
www.takingitglobal.com jongbloed linking active youth
www.idealist.org katejongbloed linking active individuals
www.facebook.com Kate Jongbloed the social networking site
www.flickr.com katejongbloed my photos online
www.delicious.com katejongbloed online list of my favourite sites
www.goodreads.com Kate in Ethiopia like Facebook for books
www.ysn.com katejongbloed networking for young professionals

Islam in Ethiopia

After travelling to Lalibela’s rock hewn churches, visiting monasteries by mule and boat, and speaking frequently about Ethiopian Orthodox saints, I thought it was probably a good idea to check out Ethiopia’s other major religion: Islam. I work with Ahmed, a practicing Muslim, and a former employee at the Ethiopian Islamic Council, so I figured he’d be my in. I’ve spent the past nine months trying to remember not to shake his hand! We arranged an appointment on Friday afternoon, before prayers, so that I could visit the Grand Mosque in the heart of Addis’s biggest market (less than a block away from an equally large Orthodox church). Before I left to meet him, I practiced putting on my hijab with the help of another coworker, Saade. As I walked around my office with it on, my coworkers began to call me Amina!

I was early for our appointment, and for the first time in Addis, I felt thoroughly out of place as I waited in front of the men’s gate at the Mosque. Even the little Amharic I’ve gained didn’t apply: the beggars I encountered all wore prayer caps, and the only way I know to fend them off is by saying, “God will provide.” Except that in this case, I would have been talking about the wrong God. I kept on waiting for someone to say, “You don’t belong here,” but of course they didn’t.

When Ahmed arrived, we met the administrator of the Mosque, and he showed us around the women’s part, which made Ahmed very uncomfortable. As we walked around, he commented on my long skirt, saying that I looked like a true Muslim. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the top part of my dress, hidden by a sweater, would have made him change his mind!

At ten minutes before seven we prepared for prayer. I left Ahmed half way, as he went to the men’s part and I headed back towards the woman’s part. As I walked up the stairs, wondering how this was all going to work, two young women in full chador beckoned me over. Placing me between them in our straight prayer line, three rows back from the front, they signaled to me that I should follow their example when the prayer started. And so, we bent forward, kneeled, put our heads to the floor, stood up, crossed our arms, and held out our index fingers in symbol of Allah. When we were finished, the girls asked me my name. When I replied, “Kate,” they said, “No, your Islamic name.” Amina.

I stayed Amina, under my headscarf, all the way home.

Northern Ethiopia

Last Thursday I found myself in a sunny restaurant, having a delightful breakfast of marmalade, toast and boiled eggs with my mother. What made it less delightful was that we were supposed to be on the plane for our four-day trip to Bahir Dar and Lalibela in Northern Ethiopia. We’d arrived at the airport at 5:30am to find that our e-tickets didn’t appear on the computer, but after much haggling and talking to several people, we had boarding tickets in our hands and were rushing towards our gate. Once safely in the plane, a man from the airline came in and asked if any of us were headed to Bahir Dar. Apparently, they’d decided just then to change the route, and make three other stops before arriving in Bahir Dar. Our arrival time would be four hours later than planned. Luckily, there was another plane, leaving twenty minutes later, for our destination. We tumbled back onto the tarmac and into the waiting area. Then the announcement came that our new flight was delayed. We had a three-hour wait ahead of us, and no duty free shops. Three and a half ours later, we were still waiting; we didn’t end up taking off until about one o’clock (forty minutes later than we would have arrived in Bahir Dar if we’d stuck with the first plane!). However, after a rocky 35-minute flight, we finally arrived in Bahir Dar. Upon hearing our story, a couple of the guys we met in the airport explained Ethiopian Airlines’ local name: Inshallah Airlines (“If God wills it” Airlines).


We spent two days in Bahir Dar, staying with a friend of ours (a fellow Canadian), and visited ancient monasteries on Lake Tana, and the Blue Nile Falls (or what’s left of them after a hydrological project was constructed up stream). As well, we had a chance to visit a local NGO who’s just starting to embark on an HIV/AIDS program- Bahir Dar has the highest prevalence rate in the country at 23 percent. It was a nice change to eat fresh fish from the lake, and to be near water after land locked Addis!


Our next stop was Lalibela, and luckily God must have willed it, because we arrived on time. We had a serendipitous meeting with two Canadians (one my mum’s age and one mine) in the airport bathroom, and ended up spending our two days there with them. With the help from our guide, Abush, we visited the ancient rock-hewn churches in the town, trekked with mules up a mountain to visit another, and drove some distance away to see a monastery built into a giant cave. The latter included bodies of over 5000 pilgrims who’d chosen to be buried there.


Exhausted and filled with Ethiopian mythology and Orthodox culture, we left on Tuesday to return to Addis and the‘real world’. We didn’t make it to Axum or Gonder to complete our historical tour, but I guess that will have to be saved for the next trip to this incredible country!


For me, the trip provided a chance to practice my Amharic, share my small knowledge of Ethiopia with people who were fresh off the boat, and meet some tremendous people. I think it solidified the experience I’ve had here, making me aware of the skills I’ve learnt on placement, and my personal progress.

Tekla Haymanot

I’ve talked before in this blog about Ethiopian Orthodox Christianity, and I become steadily more interested in it as I realize its pervasiveness in society here. As usual, religion is a crucial part of the history and the present of this country.

There are several saints revered in Orthodox Christianity here, some indigenous, and others that are specifically Ethiopian. I’ve mentioned before how each church is named after one, and each of the days of the month is attributed to a specific saint. One can ask a Christian Ethiopian, “Who is your saint?” and they will answer immediately. When significant events happen here, like the birth of a child or some sort of near-death experience, people pick the saint of that particular day as their saint, and will pay special attention to religious duties on that saint’s day. Often, they’ll light candles, or attend service on that day each month, and will go to the church with that saint’s namesake.

My Ethiopian saint is Tekla Haymanot. A couple of months ago, I was in a car accident with two friends on the way home from Debre Sina where an intern friend was sick with typhoid fever. At a bend in the road, the driver lost control of the car because of problems with the steering and a pothole. We flew down the hill beside the road, narrowly missing trees and rocks, and as we swerved to avoid a farmer’s field and barbed wire fence, the momentum threw me through the closed window. I landed, a bit dazed, on the ground as the car continued for a few meters before stopping. The two friends left in the car looked into the back seat to see if I was okay, and were terrified when they didn’t see me sitting there. As they got out of the car, I stood up, unharmed except for what would become a huge bruise on my thigh and a couple of scratched elbows. No one else was hurt. On our way off the road, we could have hit a tree, crumpling the front of the car, or hit a rock and flipped over, either of which would have caused serious damage to us in the car. But we didn’t.

When we drove back into Addis, I visited with the Ethiopian family living behind our house, and asked them what saint’s day it was that day. We lit a candle for Tekla Haymanot, and he’s been my saint ever since.

The story of Tekla Haymanot says that he showed a special ability in performing miracles during childhood, and went on, later in life, to pray without interval for twenty years. He spent the whole prayer standing, and at one point, his right leg rotted and fell off. He continued for seven more years standing only on his left. You can find the rotten leg in a church in Debre Libanos. It comes out once a year, and those that revere him are permitted to drink the water in which the leg is washed.

Currently reading: The Chains of Heaven by Philip Marsden, the true story of his journey hundreds of kilometers on foot between Lalibela and Axsum, two of Ethiopia’s most holy places. The story of Tekla Haymanot above was taken from the book, and from accounts of Ethiopian friends. The painting of Tekla Haymanot was done by my fabulous artist friend, Geta Mekonnen.