Don't Throw Momma from the Bajaj

Not only does she write....

Julienne:  Mom, I think you should be our guest blogger.

Sara: Totally!  You could cover our northern historical route with colorful details, retrace our mental breadcrumbs, embellish the highlights, tip toe over the low-lights, yet be true to your personal voice.

Nancy: I would if I could figure out how to type on your dad's iPad. 

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Don't Throw Mutha from the Bajaj: A Playful Four-Act Story

by Nancy (Mom) Oyler

Prologue

There is an old Ethiopian tale about four animals (donkey, dog, goat, and camel) taking a journey by taxi.  At the end of trip the goat jumps out and scampers off without paying the driver. The donkey pays his full fare, and the dog pays and waits for his change. The driver is outraged that no one covers the goat’s fare and drives off.  The camel, having traveled thousands of miles from the desert catches up to the taxi just in time to be covered in a plume of dust.

Act I, Scene I

Not a good sign when a bajaj driver asks you to 'balance'.

Setting:  A blue tricycle taxi, called a bajaj, stops along a windy road.  Dog and Donkey get out and start discussing.

Dog: I just don’t think the driver is really a guide.

Donkey: Dog, quit barking.  We’ve been on this road for six hours and are yet to arrive at the celebrated land of Tigray.  Besides, we've already paid.

Dog: Yes, but we paid for a driver and a guide. We can barely communicate, and he doesn't know the name of every plant we've passed, let alone the interesting, indigenous birds. I want part of our money back.

Goat: Enough! So he might not be the best guide, but at least food is included. We're not paying for that, right?

Scene II

Setting:  The Quara Hotel, Gondar, Ethiopia. A white haired woman sprawls on an unmade bed writing on an iPad in a small room made smaller by piles of clothes and open backpack. Over the sounds of a city wakening (horns blaring, diesel buses rumbling) can be heard "When I'm 64" by The Beatles.

Journal entry: Here today, Gondar tomorrow

Zanna & Sara wait for local gin for a Gonder sundowner.

My decision to get shot up, ingest four tablets of live typhoid vaccine, and purchase a plane ticket taking me 16,000 miles from home to join daughter and friends for three weeks touring northern Ethiopia was my way of saying "Put me back in, Coach, I'm well rested and the fourth quarter's barely begun." I'm now walking along the last of several switchbacks taking me to the top of a hill overlooking the city of Gondar, one of the four Ethiopian cities that constitute the Northern historical circuit. Julienne, Sara, and Zanna have sprinted ahead to catch the sunset from the Goha Hotel.  

The view (wheeze) from Goha (gasp) Hotel.

I stop yet again to carefully compose my photograph of the aqua-colored Ethiopian Orthodox Church -- not so much for the aesthetics, but more to give me a chance to catch my breath.  Memories of an August spent in Cairo surface readily: dust and donkeys, begging and bribes, men holding hands and women holding babies as flies appear like freckles on their lips. Little has changed in the intervening forty years except now I'm asked by eager-to-please Ethiopians "How was your day, Muther?" and "Muther, me I hip you?"  I'm cheered by the endearing moniker, so respectful.  I smile, shake my head, and reply "ameseghinalehu" which means "thank you" in Amharic, the most widely spoken language in Ethiopia.

S and Z head into the Royal Enclosure

I manage to summit the hill and find JSZ out on the terrace, having placed drink orders of three shots of local gin, a bottle of tonic water, and for me a bottle of Dashen, an Ethiopian beer brewed locally.  

Today we took a self-guided tour of Gondar's UNESCO World Heritage Site Fasil Ghebbi. This “Royal Enclosure” is an impressive series of brown brick castles in Gondar, the power center and capital of Ethiopia for 200 years, roughly from the time Jamestown was settled until the end of the US civil war. 

During the later part of this period Emperor Tewodros II advanced Gondar independence by centralizing government, establishing an arms factory, abolishing the slave trade, and expropriating church land for peasant farmers.  His appeal to Britain for help in achieving these goals was rebuffed, and frustrated by this, and what he considered the backwardness of his fellow socialists and the intractability of the clergy, he committed suicide.

Gelada baboons in the Simien Mountains

Also, we learned that tomorrow a guide by the name of "Dude" would be taking us into the foothills of the Simien Mountains in search of the famous Gelada baboons.  Another round is ordered. Mother is pleased.

Act II, Scene I

Setting:  The bajaj is stopped on the side of the road near a trail leading to the Gheralta Mountains.  Dog, Donkey, Goat, and Camel return from the trail, as the driver changes the air filter under the taxi.

Goat rushes ahead of the pack. “Step aside, driver. Dog slipped and cut her foot pad, and I must get to my emergency kit.  Antiseptic, gauze, I’ve got it all.”  “I’m fine,” whimpers Dog, “some clean water and a Dora the Explorer band aid should fix me right up.”

Mountain top + chisel = church

Camel slumps down on her front knees. “I almost died up there!  I was so close to falling off that 60 degree sloped escarpment that I mentally wrote you out of my will,” she says to Donkey.

The bajaj driver shakes his head muttering, “’Just a short hike up the mountain, they say. Just wait here. We’ll be right back. We want to see this famous church. It’ll only take a minute.’  How many churches do they HAVE to see?!?”

Scene II

Setting:  The Africa Hotel, Axum, Ethiopia. Noticeably more drab than yesterday’s hotel, the white sheets of the unmade bed are tinged gray. Hot water is a distant memory.

Journal Entry: Where are we going? I don't know, I need to Axum.

Ethiopia Airlines is the jewel in the commerce crown of this agrarian nation where tef (the grain used to make injera) is the main crop for local consumption, the Chinese are building roads to improve access to untouched mineral deposits, and camel trains still transport blocks of salt excavated from the Danakil Depression.  So how does Ethiopian Airlines earn its spot?  Easy- it will fly you to each city on the northern historical route, safely and on time (or before, if all the confirmed passengers are seated), serving sandwiches, beverages and goodwill for a mere $200.

When we touched down in Axum from Gondar, we headed directly to the Africa Hotel, unloaded packs, and went in search of stelae, giant engraved obelisks.  I scored an umbrella of mixed colors at the market along the way - the perfect sunshade for a well-appointed Mother.  We explored the Axumite tombs with a cursory glance at the indentation rumored to be the final resting place of King Kaleb.  Then we were quickly on to inspecting the stelae, imagining the 10 meter obelisks carved out of single slabs of rock, hauled by elephants to be erected and displayed in commemoration of the Axumite kings of 400BC-600AD. But the real drama of Axum resides in the temple where the Ark of the Covenant is rumored to live.

Act III, Scene I

Lalibela's St. George church honors Ethiopia's patron.

Setting:  Lalibela, a dusty town filled with steep cobblestone streets and ravines. No bajajs to be found.

Goat, with impeccable balance, scampers up a rock mound. At the top she discovers that out of the rock was carved a magnificent church in the shape of a cross. A priest approaches, asking to verify the receipt of payment for the four tourist. Goat bounds away, snapping pictures as she descends into the opening.

Donkey pulls the requested document out of her pocket. Sighting the townspeople freely climbing up and over the rock-hewn church as if it were a commuter’s thoroughfare, Donkey is annoyed at the nuisance of being asked at the fifth church for proof of payment. "You have a very busy job here, mister," haws Donkey. "Look at all of those people passing by who need to show you their receipts."

Ethiopian cherupi

Dog is distracted. As she enters the church area, several strong smelling children call out to her. "Hello. Hello. HELLO! Where are you from, Dog? Do you want to come to my house for a coffee ceremony?" Still feeling slighted from over paying the taxi, Dog has a bone to pick.

Camel, pulling up the rear, finally enters the church. Having spent her career on the salt caravans, and as old habits are hard to break, Camel still carries around enough supplies as if she were leaving the house for weeks. Armed with a water bottle, sketching pad, a pouch of drawing implements, umbrella, religious head-covering, snacks, bug spray, the 10 wilderness essentials, and camera, Camel plods down the winding trench into the church.

Scene II

Julienne and Nancy at Blue Nile Falls

Setting: The Mountain View Hotel, Lalibela, Ethiopia.  The roof top terrace.  Half-finished bottle of Dashen beer and a plate with a smudge of ketchup and a couple of crispy fries next to the iPad.

Journal Entry: Traveling with JSZ is easy but not always relaxed.  Setting aside J's drive, S's relentless inquisitiveness, and Z's stony wake-up demeanor, this trio exudes consideration, efficiency and respect. They are lovely and smart, kind and helpful, politically astute and passionate. 

They are crisp 100 birr notes, rare in circulation and valuable. Like new bills, they stand upright when placed on their sides, bundled together they form a thick cardboard strength.  Hold them up to the light to see their authenticity. Their words are clearly printed and carry authority. In contrast I’m the beloved 1 birr note: smudged, ragged, well circulated, often limp, but oh so loved (mostly by each child we see along the dusty road).

4th century paintings on rock walls of churches

Tomorrow we fly to Addis, then on to Bahir Dar. Zanna departs from Addis, and we’ll miss her in our last stop.  We reminisced over the trip last night. We’re now able to laugh about our rugged and treacherous rides to the Gheralta plateau with our driver KB. “The longest African massage,”Julienne quips, still sore from bouncing in the back of the mini-bus. 

Highlights included staying at the beautiful Gheralta Lodge, wearing white woven scarves into sacred Ethiopian Orthodox Churches, seeing a camel caravan, viewing the Lalibela rock-hewn churches.  Now we can laugh about haggling with the guides, the near death experience while passing on a blind corner in a dust storm with a 1000 foot drop off below, the fleeting bouts of late-night illness. To a person we rave about the traditional food and the genuine hospitality expressed by most of the Ethiopians we meet. We’ll all miss the companionship and camaraderie of our journey.

Act IV, Scene I

Setting:  A dusty bajaj rattles to a stop at its final destination, Mam's Guesthouse. A weary Donkey emerges from the taxi and hands the driver a 50 birr note.  

"There," Donkey brays, "I've paid my fare."

I paid already.

"Ishii," responds the driver, "But what about the goat?"

“Goat left two days ago for New York, if you wanted her to pay, you should have asked then." Donkey trots off.  

Dog, reaching in her pocket, pulls out a 100 birr note. "Here, I need 50 back." The outraged bajaj driver, stiffed by Goat, speeds off leaving Dog with only a film of red dust.  

And this tale explains why when traveling through Ethiopia today, you might encounter a goat crossing the road who runs when he sees any taxi.  He didn't pay.  A donkey will stand his ground in the middle of the road.  He paid.  A dog will run at the taxi's wheels, barking that he wants his change.

Scene II

Lake Tana with Mary Elizabeth and Aki and a hippo

Setting: A covered skiff with a 30hp outboard motor leaves the dock with Julienne, Sara, Nancy and their new friends Mary Elizabeth and Aki for an early morning cruise on Lake Tana.  The lake near Bahir Dar is calm and the boat captain promises visits to five monasteries, the mouth of the Blue Nile, and the possibility of hippo and endemic bird viewing.

Journal Entry: All of us look forward to a relaxed day on the lake. This is Mary Elizabeth's first trip to Africa.  They've carved a month out of their work schedules in DC to visit Aki’s home and family in Addis and have taken a nearly identical travel route as ours. We share stories of crumbling rock staircases, our favorite churches (St. George in Lalibela, of course) and compare accommodations. We've taken advantage of their easy company and Aki's command of Amharic by meeting up since a brief encounter in Gondar.

While our boat skips along the waves of Lake Tana, I joke, "we mustn't tell Zanna about this part of the trip. She would feel so jealous.”  

Aki replies, "Yes, Zanna would love the water. She must be cold in New York.”

Epilogue

"But what about the camel?" you ask. There is no camel in the traditional tale, but in this playful four-act story we see an angry taxi driver skid to a stop a block beyond Mam's Guesthouse.

"Get out, Camel!" shouts the driver. "The story is over. Pay up and be gone."   "Please, no!" pleads the old camel still scrunched in the back. I don't want to return to the salt mines. Please don't throw Muther Camel from the bajaj!" But he does.

 

Meanwhile, a tan but shivering Zanna stands on the curb at JFK.  It's dark, and a wintery mix has begun to fall.  She struggles to hail a cab but, alas, no Ethiopian driver will stop.

A very happy Donkey, Goat, Dog and Camel.

Dear Ethiopia, Thanks a Latte

No trip to Ethiopia is complete without imbibing some strong home brew of Abyssinian coffee. 

Julienne, certifiably allergic to any hot beverage, managed to take one eye-crossing swig; and Sara, thrilled to have a break from omnipresent West African Nescafe, is still buzzing from last week’s macchiato.  One lump or two, there is no denying the cultural, economic, and social importance of the tiny bean in Ethiopia. 

Most people can’t formulate complex sentences before their first morning cup of coffee.  After six weeks of drinking strong Ethiopian blends, we still can’t wrap our heads around the complexities of the coffee industry here or abroad.  Here’s a small primer of what we’ve learned (consider it a tiny dollop of froth on a really big latte).

The History

According to legend, an Ethiopian goatherd stumbled upon the miracle effects of coffee when adventuresome members of his flock nibbled the berries of the coffee plant.  The goatherd told his wife of the energizing effect on his goats, and she in turn, insisted he tell the local monks.  Aghast, the monks ditched the sinful drug into the fire, spurring the awesome smell of roasting beans, which drew other monks over to get in on the party.  They pulled the beans back out of the fire, ground them, brewed them, and after a few cups, they found a new way to stay up all night for their holy devotions.   The coffee strain grown today in Ethiopia is same Arabica bean discovered by Kaldi and his goats, and there’s even a local café chain named after the famous goatherd. 

The Bean

Coffee berries are beautiful.  They start out a waxy smooth green and turn into a shiny bright red fruit, giving it its name “cherry.”  Cultivated coffee grows mostly in the southern half of Ethiopia on tall woody bushes, but it is also found throughout the country in its wild woodland form.  While we’re not sophisticated enough to taste the differences of acidity and body, apparently local conditions create different flavors of Arabica from region to region.  While coffee is grown in many tropical countries  – Columbia, Brazil, Vietnam – only coffee grown at an elevation of 1,200 meters can be considered specialty.  With mountainous hillsides, Ethiopia produces tons of premium, delicious, holy devotion-worthy coffee each year. 

The Grind

For better or worse, coffee production in Ethiopia happens the same way that it did in the 10^th century – by hand.  After fertilizing the land and growing berries through the rainy season, farmers harvest the ripe cherries in February. We were on a small peninsula on Lake Tana in the north, as we walked through a wooded forest to come to three local coffee growers picking their crop.  We jumped in to “help.” Like a two-legged goat, Sara ate a coffee cherry, only to find that the inner bean is a crunchy, tasteless nugget, coated in slime.

After picking, these berries are taken to a local “wet mill” where women will wait in line for up to 4 hours for the berries to be husked and washed, and then taken home to be dried in the sun.  These dried green beans are then sold in local markets or to buyers around the world.  Tonight in an elevator, we talked with a coffee importer who was here to taste this year’s crops for his Korean company’s order.

From growing, harvesting and washing, the coffee industry employs millions in full-time work, and up to 12 million Ethiopians in seasonal work (minus curious tourists).  

The Economics

Until last year, when eclipsed by Ethiopian Airlines, coffee revenue was the largest portion of the Ethiopian economy. Here are the beans behind the beans:

·         Coffee is the second most traded product in the world-behind in value only to oil;

·         Large-scale coffee importers and roasters purchase coffee futures through the Coffee, Sugar & Cocoa Exchange in New York City (originally the NY Coffee Exchange in the 1880s);

·         Ethiopia is the world’s 7^th largest producer of coffee, and Africa’s first;

·         In 2008, Ethiopia coffee exports tallied $357M; in 2011, exports grew to a staggering $840M; 

·         More than half of Ethiopia’s coffee production is exported;

·         About 1 million households (at least 7 million Ethiopians) are dependent on coffee revenue;

·         Growers sell the green beans at a meager $.70 per pound;

·         Yesterday, we purchased 1 pound of coffee from the local food stand for $3.50.

Julienne trying her hand at roasting beans.

The Coffee Crisis

In 2001, coffee prices had fallen to their lowest levels ever, totaling less than one third of their 1960 prices. This sparked a global coffee crisis, impacting more than 25 million households worldwide. Several factors can be blamed for the decline in coffee prices: the dismantling of the International Coffee Agreements' price regulation, a fluctuating market, the exploitation of market power by roasters and retailers, rapid supplier growth with not enough demand and policies implemented by the World Trade Organization (WTO) and the International Monetary Fund (IMF).

When coffee prices fall, the “little guys” suffer. The small-scale family farmers, who produce 75% of the world's coffee supply, lose out, especially when the industry’s pricing and futures are decided in conference rooms and on stock exchange floors a world away from the mountainous coffee farms in the tropics.

The Good Guys

For over 200 years, coffee growers in the developing world have struggled to make proportional financial gains vis-à-vis the big, multi-national conglomerates that have profited prolifically from the growing global market. However, over the years a handful of cooperatives, NGOs, journalists, marketers, Fair Trade advocates and other allies have helped the coffee grower get a bigger sip from the global coffee cup.

Credit: Technoserve, Ethiopia

Founded in 1968 by a successful business man, Technoserve emerged as a pioneering international NGO determined to use business to end poverty. Now operating in almost 50 countries around the world, Technoserve helps entrepreneurial men and women build businesses and capitalize on economic opportunities that create jobs and income for poor people.  Through its $47 million coffee initiative, Technoserve is working with growers across East Africa to improve coffee quality and yield through access to soil nutrients, improve farmer revenue through processing jobs and brokering relationships with buyers, provide millions of dollars of capital for processing stations, and offer professional develop through farm-side taste test “cupping labs” to taste the most sought-after attributes. Technoserve estimates that this support could add an additional $2 billion per year in additional revenue.

But Technoserve isn’t the only organization doing incredible work. A friend from Peace Coffee in Minneapolis put us in touch with a local coffee farmer union, representing more than 200 co-operatives and 200,000 coffee growers and processors.  The Oromia Coffee Farmers Cooperative Union provides its members with capital, training, and export options that have significantly increased the revenue coming back to these farmers.  OCFCU helps members wash and roast their own beans, creating more coffee-related local jobs and increased revenue for Ethiopians.  The Oromia union returns 70% of its gross profits to its cooperatives.

The Brew

At the end of the day, all this gets distilled down into one cup of joe.  Or, if you’re at an Ethiopian Coffee Ceremony – three cups of joe.  This extended coffee break is a three-cup brew ritual that started as offering of friendship and serves a cornerstone of the social scene – creating time for communities to discuss local issues (and local gossip) as the slow process of roasting, grinding, and drinking unfolds.   

This local ceremony, which used to occur three times per day, has been curbed due to the increasing price of coffee. Now, once a day at most or for some only on special occasion, the coffee ceremony is usually led by a young woman, dressed in a traditional white dress seated on the ground behind rows of tiny coffee cups, and surrounded by fresh cut grass, snacks of bread and popcorn, and a cloud of incense.  

She roasts the green beans in a little cast-iron skillet and offers a waft of roasting smoke to everyone around.  When the beans are toasted and oily, they are ground and poured into a black clay coffee pot.  After a few minutes, the grounds settle and pouring begins from a height of a foot into the tiniest of cups. 

For Ethiopians in city cafes or countryside plantations, it seems the growing, picking, brewing, drinking and sharing is as important to daily life as religion.  For us, we found that the best part of waking up is Ethiopian Fair Trade in our cup.