Here in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, the weather is always perfect according to our standards.  During the rainy season, it’s just like Spring back in the States with the storms and soft rain, and in the dry season, it’s like Summer.  That’s all they have here, Spring and Summer.

But I note, that this time of year back in my home state of Texas, the storm season is coming up.  This has always brought up exciting memories of my youth.

My dad was from Iowa, which must have had their share of bad storms.  So, in the stormy Springs of the Texas Panhandle, Pop took the season seriously.  Somewhere he obtained a tornado warning alarm that he placed on an ancient bookcase in the living room, and instructed us kids:  If this thing ever goes off, run, do not walk to the cellar!  As I aged and became aware of electronics, I realized it was a device that monitored barometric pressure.  It was simply a barometer that had an electrical contact on the little needle that set off a loud buzzer.  It was a device that did not detect the possibility of a tornado, but detected an actual tornado overhead!  He was right.  If that thing had gone off, there was very little time to even run.

In those years, we would watch the clouds overhead as they rolled and boiled with anger.  The cellar was always a short jaunt, ready for us to dive into.  It was exciting as a young kid to stand outside with Pop, expecting the fury of Mother Nature to descend on us.

In later years, I worked as a Maintenance Electrician at a manufacturing plant.  One task that was given me, was to repair the tornado warning system installed at the plant.  I replaced parts and got the thing working.  Once a week during the storm season, I would set the thing off at noon on every Friday to test it, and to get people used to expecting it.

One hot, humid June day, when you could feel evil in the air, a tornado touched down less than a mile from the plant.  It cut through several electrical lines that fed the plant, killing machines, lights and power.  I became ecstatic!  After setting the system off each week as a test, I could actually set the thing off on a real live warning!!

I ran hard to the First Aid Station where there was a trigger to set it off, and groped along the wall in the darkness and found the switch.  And threw it.

Silence.  Nothing.  Nada.  Zilch.   (There was no power)

Dear Reader, I cannot fully express to you the big Disappointment (with a capital “D”) I had at that moment.  I trudged back outside with shoulders down to my knees, and walked, not ran, to the Main Gate to watch the dangerous clouds that I could not warn others of.  The plant manager we had at the time was standing there also.  This gentleman was from one of those states up North where they have no tornadoes, and he was a little scared to say the least.

But he seemed relieved at the time as he commented that the tornado has gone and is all okay.  I made the mistake of telling him, that if conditions were ripe for one tornado, they were ripe for many; and don’t just look to the Southwest where they usually came from, but also overhead.

It was at this time, the ol’ boy had a look of panic I’ve not seen on a human face.  He turned white as a piece of chalk and looked up as if he was expecting lightning to rain down on him.  He ran, not walked, back to the building.  Where he went inside, I do not know, but the next day he Demanded, (with a capital “D”), that we add a battery backup to the warning system.  My boss who had lived in the Texas Panhandle all his life, pretty much ignored his Demand because what happened that day, may take place once every few decades.

Several years ago, my wife who is from the great state of New York, took me up North to see Niagara Falls.  As we stood there, with the thundering noise and the mist in the air, I closed my eyes and was reminded of a tornado.  Those of you who have experienced a tornado up close, can relate to it.  There is a thundering sound and vibration you feel in your stomach like when a train passes by closely, as the moist air whips around you.

I do miss the dangerous winds, lethal lightning and horizontal rain of the Texas Panhandle.  As a close friend of mine who has the same passion I have for storms once commented, We can only hope for the worst.

To those if you in the Texas Panhandle, enjoy Mother Nature in her anger.  For it is a wondrous sight to behold!

There is another posting under the “one sided conversations with the damn cat” under Page One on the left.

The other day we were eating at the Italian restaurant on the hill.  This was after the bull incident and Hiwot wanted to know what happened to Terese’s foot.  She’s wearing a big black boot to keep her foot from flexing so it will heal.   Also, the damn cat hates the boot, but I digress.

Terese explained the incident and Hiwot told her, that the young child of a friend of hers was also a victim of the bull.  Luckily, the little one is doing okay.

But Hiwot said she heard that an Embassy guard said a Nice White with short hair had been hurt by the bull.  At the time, Hiwot wondered if it was her Nice White with short hair, but forgot about it until we came in, and she realized it was.

Terese was pleased to note that the locals refer to her as a Nice White.  I’m afraid to ask Hiwot what they call me.

We were on the hill eating last night.  Afterwards, she came to our table to remove the plates.  She caught me off guard, so I had to quickly put my napkin on my shoulder (to maintain the sanctity of the napkin on the shoulder rule) and in the process it partly ended up on my head.  She laughed and said, I am already here!  But we are making progress because she let me keep my napkin.

Terese got to talking to Hiwot about her schooling.  She has yet to deliver a baby which she will have to do before graduating.  It’s humorous to watch her expressions when she talks about it, covering her eyes as if it’s happening now.  But I find it interesting and beautiful when she says that when she studies the Maternity class, she has a “special place in my mind” for her mother because she now knows what she went through for her.

Not so her father.  She doesn’t see him doing any of the work.  Evidently, he left her mother and started a family of his own many years ago.  We politely asked how much her schooling is and she said, it’s 400 birr a month (about $22) and her apartment is 700 (about $39).  She makes 700 for her salary at the restaurant and depends on her tips to pay for her school.  She is 21 years old and is very proud of her ability to support herself and pay for schooling also.  You can see the satisfaction and confidence in her face.

… and kids back in the States throw a hissy fit when they don’t get the newest iPhone.

…  from World War II.  Look under the title: America (with a C) on the left side.

I‘m sitting in a hotel lobby in Port Louis, Mauritius, waiting several hours for a ride to the airport to return home, and decided to jot this down.

In what I have seen in and of the world, I have realized Life is stranger than Fiction.  Hollywood can regurgitate from now until Hell freezes over, and can only dance around reality.  The most interesting and thought provoking stories are those born from real life experiences.

The Pretty Lady, (my wife) is an incredible Lady.  When I first met her, the first thing I noticed about her, is her ingrain gracefulness.  The way she sits with her toes on point, the way she walks barefoot, her simple hand gestures; and when I found out this pretty woman had over 20 years of Classical Ballet, it all made sense.

Now, enter el Toro.

An expression we use often in Ethiopia to explain the bizarre is simply, This is Africa.

Sunday afternoon, I had to fly out to Mauritius, down off the coast of Madagascar, just off South Africa.  I’ve been several times and was not looking forward to the long cramped flights.  All baggage was loaded into the Embassy vehicle to take me to the airport.  Terese and I were saying our goodbyes and Dasvidaniyas, when the driver slid the driveway gate open.

We often see livestock being moved along in the street, usually by someone who knows how to deftly use a stick.  Out in the roadway, walking like a thug looking for a fight, was a bull with a bad attitude.  What I am about to describe is an encounter with the bull from entrance to exit, that lasted maybe 4 seconds.  It doesn’t take a bull much time to do its thing and move on.

The driver said, Maybe we close gate?

Terese said, No, we don’t need to.  I thought the same. The bull is probably out for a Sunday walk, like any other thug on the street.

The bull was about 15 feet from the gate and as soon as he saw us, he dropped his head and charged.  Terese was standing in the space between the vehicle and the gate, where the bull saw daylight behind her.  For several hours afterwards, I kept thinking I should have pushed her away, but I had to realize, there was absolutely no time to do anything.  Not even speak.

Terese went over his head and landed hard on the pavement.  It happened so fast, I cannot fully replay it in my mind, but I instinctively dropped down to her to see how bad she was hurt, totally unaware the bull was still in our front yard, a small space the size of our kitchen and will not be staying for dinner.  Maybe I subconsciously thought the bull was just going to stand there and marvel at the aftermath of his entrance.

No.  In the second I was down with Terese, the bull jumped over us and was gone.  I shoved the gate closed to avoid an encore performance.  (I later realized, I closed the gate so hard, I bent part of it)

Terese being a medic, knew not to just jump up and go kick his ass.  I helped her slowly get up as she assessed herself.  She had a small cut on her eyebrow which bled like a stuck pig and a skinned knee.  She also had a foot that will be the main injury.  The bull evidently stepped on her foot during their short dance sequence.  How her foot was stepped on as she went over his horns, I still cannot play it out correctly in my mind.  But a later assessment will reveal a badly torn ankle and broken toe.

In the house, she assured me she will be okay and convinced me to leave for the airport.  She even went back out on the porch to see the driver who was badly shaken up over the incident.  I got into the vehicle with the driver and on the way to the airport, he kept thanking Jesus she was not hurt more.  (I later found out, he was thrown against the vehicle and had some aches and pains also.)   As I sat in the seat, it was then I realized the fact the bull jumped over me and Terese while we were down, without hitting either of us with a hoof or stepping on us.  A blow to my head with the hoof of a bull would have killed me.  To have the bull step on us would have ended with death or paralysis.  Yeah, I think the driver was right.  I thanked the Good Lord myself.

Once I got through Security at the airport, I called the Duty Officer at the Embassy to report it.  This is an individual who is on call 24 hours to assist with problems like this.  I had to start by saying, You’re not gonna believe this …

The Duty Officer in turn called the Embassy Medic and had her call Terese that evening to check on her.  I placed a request for Motorpool to pick her up for work so she wouldn’t have to drive.  The next morning, she hobbled to her office and was asked, So, you were run over by a bulldog?  Terese said, No. A bull!  They said, A bull as in cow bull?  Yes, cow bull.

They sent her to the Medical Unit, where they basically said, Yep, torn ankle and toe broken, and here’s some pain pills; now go back home and do not come back for a week.

Over the next few days, Terese learned the bull had gotten out several times before and has hurt at least 12 other people, including two officers.  Several of them were in the hospital with severe injuries.  He also attacked two taxis, but we don’t care about that.  The last report, both bull and owner have been caught and locked up.  Hopefully in the same cell.

The woman has been down many times with injuries from all directions.  Been though childbirth several times, been in three roll-overs, had cat scratch fever, had the H1N1, endured two husbands and many crazy in-laws.  And perhaps many things I don’t know about.  Terese is a tough woman, but the bull was tougher.

But I cannot leave this without saying, that bull had some massive testicles and I was a bit jealous.

Okay.  Enough of that.  For those with two good feet, kick butt and don’t stop.   D.

I’m flying out again this afternoon and wanted to give a quick catching up post before leaving.

As I noted before, Hywät has the two little dots above the “a” on her name, like a little creature peeking out from behind it.  I asked her if she puts the two little dots there like my computer does, and after a tussle with translation, and with Terese’s help, she basically said, what “a”?   I asked her to write her name in English and she did.  In a way I think it may have been a mistake.  Turns out she spells it “Hiwot”.

So I have a bit of a quandary.  Should I continue using “Hywät” with the two little dots, or succumb to her spelling of it.  I spent no little time thinking about this and decided to go by her spelling but refuse to go back and change her name in the past.  What is past is past.

So she will henceforth be known as Hywät, … er,  Hiwot.

A few months ago, I gave blood at the Embassy.  It had been more than two years since I was able to and it felt good to do it again.  In the States they ask you a battery of questions which include if I had sex with this person or that person.  Or if I ever used illegal drugs?  What countries I had been it, etc.  Giving blood here was simple.  How much do you weigh and what pills do you take?  Quick and simple.

Michael, our Day Guard/Gardener, lives with his Grandparents who basically raised him.  Grandfather passed away a few weeks ago.  I met the 87 year old gentleman last year and was instantly fond of him.  His hand shake was firm and his smile was genuine.  We both started bowing to each other and soon we were both bouncing up and down.

Grandfather had arthritis and took cortisone shots for the pain.  Somewhere in there, he acquired a staph infection that he was not able to shake.  Surgery just made it worse and he became bed ridden.  Terese, being a very compassionate lady, suggested we help Michael purchase a wheelchair for him so Grandfather could be moved around and retain some semblance of normalcy.  But before Michael could get him one, he passes away.  Terese told Michael to keep the money to help bury the good man.  He was most gracious.

Okay.  Enough for now.  I’ll be back later.  Until then, kick butt and whatever anyone else tells you, don’t stop.

D.