We had a low key New Year celebration.  We went up to the pizza place on the hill for dinner, where Hywät works, then drove to the Embassy and spent New Year’s Eve with the Marines at their house.  After a subdued midnight “yippee” and a small glass of champagne, we headed home.

Every time we go to the hill and eat with Hywät, the first thing she does is greet Terese.  The two of them do the hug, hug, kiss, kiss routine, and inquire how things are.  I once asked Hywät, how come you never ask me how I’m doing?  She laughed and said, “If she is okay, then you are okay.”

Humph!

Once while we were eating, she came by and asked Terese if her food was okay.  “Yes, it is very good.”  I waited … and waited … then stated, You didn’t ask me!  She looked over at me and again laughed and said, “You always order same thing!”

Humph!   – even if she is right.

The other night I went there alone to get some pizzas to bring home and Hywät was not there, but another young girl served me.  She asked me, “Where is my husband?”  I looked at her and said, Excuse me?  “Where is my husband? Where is she?”  I realized she was asking where Terese was, but used the wrong word and wrong possessive pronoun.  I explained to her that Terese was not feeling well and stayed home.  Then explained that I am the husband and Terese is the wife.  I think it may have embarrassed her, so I then asked her the correct pronunciation for the Amharic phrase, Thank you.  It’s about a paragraph long and I always have trouble saying it.  Perhaps me asking her, made her understand I have trouble with languages too.  But I was surprised how well she said what she said, because I detected no accent.  That is what threw me when she asked where her husband was.  My first thought was, Well, first of all what does the ol’ boy look like?

Well, this is Christmas in Ethiopia and there is no snow for thousands of miles, except perhaps on the top of Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. It was interesting watching people as Christmas got closer.  Yesterday I saw a boy carrying a goat on his back.  No doubt the animal is sitting on a table being devoured as I write this.  The other day we saw an old woman carrying a live chicken under her arm.  That’s something you don’t see every day in the States.  Not even in West Virginia.  I imagine the bird is also history now.

The Christmas celebration began very early yesterday morning.  I woke to what I thought was the dreaded call to prayer which is normally between 5am and 5:30, right before my alarm usually goes off.  I got up to pee and get a drink when I noticed it was 3am, so it was a nearby church starting up.  Couldn’t go back to sleep, with the constant wailing and chanting going on.  You would think it would be a comforting sound, but it’s not, as the sounds are distorted.  All the churches and mosques have outside sound systems, and recently, the mosque across the river evidently installed a new system.  About twice as loud but still distorted.

So as the first Mass took off, several others started within the hour, then at the usual time, the call to prayer went out.  Could not go back to sleep.  The wailing and chanting continued all through yesterday and into the night.  But lo and behold, there was silence when I woke early this morning … until the call to prayer raised its voice.

If I remember right, the Ethiopians start their Christmas morning with a 7am butchering of the animal they will be eating.  (refer to the above comments on the goat and chicken)  I believe they eat a portion of it then, and finish the critter off later in the day.  But the real celebration will be on the Ethiopian Epiphany which is a greater celebration than Christmas.  I was not in country last year, but Terese commented on the beautiful chanting and singing that took place in the streets.  Notice there was no distortion because it was from the populace themselves instead of multiple horns mounted on buildings.  Also there will be ceremonial fires throughout the city.  I should be here this year and will get to enjoy it with her.

In a week or so, I will be in Djibouti City, but at this time of the year, the temps will be in the upper 80’s.  A few months ago, it was consistently in the mid 100s to the lower 110s.  So it will be a good time to go there.  Afterwards, it’s back to Juba, South Sudan where the temps should be near 100 if not above.  The hottest place I have ever been is Kandahar, Afghanistan, where the first Summer I was there the direct-sunlight temp topped out in the 150s.  Unbelievably hot.  That is when the crews worked from 3am to 3pm.  Luckily for me, I secured an inside job as a Construction Coordinator by then.  Yeah, I know, I’m a wuss, but I will never forget the stifling heat during the late afternoon.  The AC units in the tents ran continuously but could only keep them in the 90’s.  By morning the tent would be in the 70’s.

We found out our next posting is Ankara, Turkey and we are excited.  I worked there for about 3 weeks a few years back and realized how much I wanted Terese to see it.  Now, she will be able to experience it.  For the first year, my boss will be a character I very much enjoyed working with in Moscow, although he is half a bubble off plumb.  I have great respect for the gentleman and look forward to working with him again.

As I work on this document, I am sitting out on one of our balconies watching the birds in the trees and yard.  If the damn cat was not asleep on one of my jackets upstairs, she would be itching to go play with them.  There are so many birds that come and go in the yard, I decided to set up a posting with pictures of them.  It will be boring for you youngsters, but old people like me and Mom will appreciate them.  I’ll let you know when it’s online.

I’ve been hearing thunder in the distance and it seems to be getting closer.  We have not had rain for quite some time and I hope it comes this way.  Besides, my rain gauge is getting lonesome.

More later.  Kick butt and don’t stop.   D.

Last year we invited the two gardeners and their families to a Christmas dinner, but this year, Christmas was a bit hectic and we didn’t get to offer the feast to them.  So, we had Michael and Shawn stay late last Friday so the four of us could eat together.  Here in Africa things are relatively cheap, but a few things are not.  As an example, last month we purchased a turkey for Thanksgiving but didn’t use it then, so we used it Friday.  The turkey was very small, probably 6-7 lbs and cost about $80.  So we don’t buy turkeys very often.

Below are pictures from last year.  First is Micheal’s mother and step father and Shawn’s wife.  Then Shawn and his little Daniel.  And a picture taken outside after dinner.

Needless to say, our Gardener, Michael was ecstatic as he very much enjoyed last year’s meal.  Especially the pumpkin pie.  Terese points out that in Ethiopia, pumpkin is merely a large gourd that is cut up and cooked like any other vegetable, like zucchini and squash.  To have the large vegetable cut into pieces with spices added and baked in a pie is a very unusual thing.  They were a bit baffled about the cranberry sauce, but they did try it and liked it enough to eat one serving.  So Friday night’s dinner was a small turkey, fried vegetables with dressing, and cranberry sauce on the side.

Now bear in mind, the Ethiopian Orthodox Church celebrates Christmas (and Easter) two weeks after the Christian Faith in the States, so their Christmas is on January 7th.  Many Ethiopian Christians are very religious and take their Faith very seriously, and Shawn is one such person.  These are the Christians who will stop and sign themselves as they walk in view of a church, even if it’s 5  blocks away.  They fast everyday for 40 days before Christmas.  When not in the Christmas season, they fast two days a week.  Fasting is basically a vegan diet.  No meat or anything that derives from meat.  This include eggs, so although Michael indulged in the pumpkin pie, two pieces at first until Terese pushed the pie closer to him, Shawn on the other hand was unable to eat any.  The only thing he ate was the vegetables and the dressing.  He didn’t know the dressing had bird juice in it, and I didn’t say.

So after the Ethiopian Christmas, we are planning to invite both young men and their families over again and serve several chickens with various pies and cookies.  Because after their Christmas, they do not fast at all for 40 days, so they can eat anything we serve.  Then it’s back to the two days a week.

Chickens are easy for us to get, although expensive.  About 10-15 dollars a bird.  We’ll get at least 3 and let the families take the rest home.  Michael likes to help Terese cook, even to the point he wants us to adopt him and take him with us when we leave for our next post.  So when he felt guilty for Terese cooking this big meal alone, I made him come in and cut the turkey.  He wasn’t expecting that, but didn’t complain.  I left for a few minutes and came back, and found him trying to dismember the turkey the way we would chicken, so I showed him how we just basically fillet the dead bird.Then our meal with the two gentlemen. When we have the next feast with them and their families, I will post it.  In the meantime, I hope all had a good Christmas and will enjoy a healthy and prosperous new year.    D.

In great anticipation for the end of the world, friends of ours had a “End of the World” party on Friday night, the 21^st, on our rooftop terrace.  As you may have noticed, the world did not end, but kept on going like it didn’t know anything was out of the ordinary.  In reality, nothing was.  There were many pictures taken, but I cannot show many of them since they include faces.  But I gave the camera to a young girl who took many pictures, but for some reason, either she didn’t know how to look through a viewfinder, or just had a fetish for feet, she took several pictures without the faces. And then, there were acrobats!Then it turned out to be a trick!!And then, last but not least, is the Gardener from next door.  Shawn.

Well, unfortunately, there probably will never be another End of the World party, so it was nice to attend at least one.   D.

With my brother visiting, we ventured out beyond our safety zone.  There are many one-day trips we can make beyond the city, yet we enjoy our backyard so much it’s hard to get us away.

Lake Tana in Northwestern Ethiopia, collects water from that area of the country and the Blue Nile drains it into the Nile (White Nile).  It is one of the two major tributaries of the Nile.  About an hour and a half drive from Addis, a section of it runs through a gorge, aptly called the Blue Nile Gorge.  My brother and I drove there and took a mess of pics along the way.  Below are a few.

Below is a picture of the gorge.

Along the road, we encountered many of these laborers.  Where they were taking their load, we do not know.

Another scene we saw everywhere outside the city, are the donkey drawn carts.

We stopped at one location and was surrounded by people selling.  Not begging, but selling.

The area has many of the Gelada baboons.  Unfortunately, we had a vehicle about to crawl up my bumper, so we were not able to stop and take better pictures of the little heathens.

It was amazing to see so many people walking along the roads so far away from the city.  Walking sticks and something on their backs, was the norm.   Many times we saw a small herd of animals, cattle & sheep, which had a lone individual watching them.  Most of the time it was young kids.  Male and female.

One day, Terese joined us for a trip to one of the nearby craters.  We did not have time to actually get to the site before we had to be back at the city before sundown.  But the drive was incredible.  I never realized how beautiful Ethiopia was.

On a Friday afternoon, several people from the Embassy decided to go to the top of Entoto mountain to watch the sunset.  My brother has two passions among many, sunrise and sunset.  We went with them and again, the beauty was priceless.  Addis is about 8000 feet.  The top of the mountain was 10,375.  It was a bit windy on top as you would imagine.  The pictures below are from the sunset side.

My brother and I ventured to the other side of the mountain and took these pictures.

Then the sun slithered down leaving a smear in the sky.

Then a quick picture of the city of Addis below before heading down.

And to keep you in love with Africa, nature gives us little critters that make you smile.  Here is a picture of a little bird in our backyard.

Okay.  Kick butt and don’t stop.  Until next time.  D.

In October, we had a Halloween party on our roof.  The young lady who lives in the other side of our duplex invited a mess of people over for the party.  This is where you meet people at their core.  They danced on our roof terrace until the wee hours of the morning and you get to watch and enjoy their love of life.  One pretty young lady wore a beautiful headdress and when I asked her where she got it, she told me her native Afghanistan.  Her parents left during the Russo-Afghan war and lived in California.  She told me she speaks Dari (Persian) and her Afghan boyfriend speaks Pashto, both languages are spoken in Afghanistan, but the only language the two have in common is English.There were several friends of our neighbor’s boyfriend, who came from several different countries in Africa.  One particular heavy-set individual from Côte d’ Ivoire (Ivory Coast) fell in love with me because I gave him cigars throughout the night.  I don’t know what he did with them, because it would have taken  him all night to smoke one, which is why I take only cheap cigars to parties.  He even stopped to give me a kiss on the cheek before leaving for the night.  These are incredible people and I am saddened because next Summer we will have to leave Africa.

In mid-November, I flew to Juba for a few days and returned right before Thanksgiving.  Juba is one of the sewer pits we travel to every few months.  It is the capitol of the new country that split off from Sudan a year ago, last July.  It is now South Sudan.  Mostly Christian, whereas Sudan itself is mostly Muslim.

We work at two different compounds in Juba, each one about 400 paces apart.  While there, I walk the distance about a dozen times a day.  Most of the roads resemble alleys in many poorer parts of an American city, except wider.  In that 400 pace walk, I estimated there are about 1000 empty water bottles strewn everywhere on that one street.  Juba is just getting into its hot months with temps consistently above 100 everyday, and will top out in the 120’s in a few months.  But during the rainy season, it rains hard almost every day.  So there are deep ruts on all the dirt roads in the city.  Some are actually 2 feet deep and all vehicles trudge around them while avoiding all the pedestrians and motorbikes.  Below is a typical street.

Friends of ours invited us to Thanksgiving dinner.  She is an incredible cook, whose meal fed many people.  A lot of it was not something I was familiar with, but everything was delicious.

Unfortunately, we didn’t stay late due to me feeling like crap.  Friday was the same with headache and chills.  That evening, in the mirror I happen to notice a strange red circle about the size of a dime on my forearm.  The next day, Saturday, it was darker and increased to the size of a nickel.  Turned out to be a spider bite acquired in Juba.  I cleaned it well, and rubbed some salt into it until I had a chance to cover it with antiseptic.  From then, it slowly healed over a period of a week. Sorry, no pictures.

Following that, I went to Djibouti City, Djibouti for about a week.  Djibouti is another sewer pit but the roads are better and the hotel is excellent.  My lovely wife joined me for a few days and was coddled by the hotel staff.  She needed it.  Below is a pic of the local inhabitants and then one of the sunset with the cranes at the shipyard.

We have four RSTs, (Regional Security Techs)  who are local men who work with us.  When I set up travel arrangements for them, I notice each of them seem to have multiple names, so the other day I asked them about that.  It turns out they retain their father’s given name.  Not his last name, but first.  And they may include a grandfather’s name as well.  So, my name would be Dwaine Quenton Theodore.  They have no last name like we do.  Ayten uses five names, so I guess it goes back to his great-great-grandfather.

We went to the little pizza place on the hill the other night and visited with Hywät.  Since she is attending medical school, Terese decided to give her a stethoscope she didn’t need any more.  It was a very noble and compassionate gesture.  Hywät reciprocated by giving Terese a pair of shoes.  They look ugly to me, but Terese loves them.My brother flew to Addis last week and set foot on African soil for the first time.  It was good to have him as we sat for hours discussing the problems of the world with fine cigars and cheap whiskey, plus it got me and Terese out of the city.  We took two trips through the countryside and saw some incredible sites.  I’ll sort through some later and post soon.  But I will post a pic now that was taken while he was here.  No, it’s not him, but a monkey that came to visit him.  Until later.  D.

As I start writing this, I’m currently in Kampala, Uganda.

I have been sent to Kampala to help out with some issues at the Embassy and to train some of the local guards on using a new piece of equipment.  After going through the usual screw-up at the airport (to remind me I am still in Africa),  I arrived in Entebbe.  In 1976, Idi Amin gave refuge to a hijacked Air France plane at the Entebbe airport.  After it landed and released only the non-Israeli passengers, the Israeli Special Forces, in a heroic move flew in and freed the passengers.  The operation was a success considering the time frame used to plan and execute the rescue.  Several movies were made about it.  In the past decades, the Government has changed several times.

One of the reasons I was sent here, is to train about 30 local guards on a special piece of equipment used at Embassies.  I love watching these people up close.  The ones I taught are some of the senior guards who has been working at the Embassy for several years.  I have learned to speak to them in ways they understand, which requires many hand gestures and noises.  I’m normally not a noisy person (unless you ask my wife), so making sucking and blowing noises to illustrate the function of this machine tends to make me feel a bit foolish.  But I prevailed.

I taught the same class last year in Kigali, and it was then I became amused by the way the guards interacted with each other.  No way would that work in the States, as both males and females stood around in a group as I explained the machine, with arms on each other’s shoulders, some holding hands, and others with their heads actually resting on the shoulders of the one in front.  I found it amazing and beautiful to view this innocent behavior toward each other.  I have seen this interaction between Africans so many times in several countries, but only in Central Africa.  Go up to the Northern part, where the African is more likely to be Muslim, or down in the South where they are more westernized, and you will not see this.

They are actually a quiet people who will provide a service with a subservient smile and nod.  Very polite and always smiling, and apologetic when someone mistreats them, like the way the Europeans and Asians do at times.  That itself will be another posting – how people from other countries are so arrogant.  People in the United States will tell you that Americans are the worst, as if they want to find another fault with our Country, and yet they really have no idea.

Because they are quiet, many Africans view noisy people as a sign of ignorance.  At least until they celebrate with music at a time to dance and show their love of life.  While in Kampala, several of us went to a nearby bar that specializes in Mongolian BBQ.  After a delicious and very inexpensive dinner, we headed back to the hotel.  Passing through the bar, I see one of our Ethiopian Techs dancing with a hooker.  We walked past and then we all stopped and said, was that Ayten?  One of us walked back and stood next to him to look, since it was fairly dark there, and realized it was indeed Ayten.  He is a short round man who does his best to keep up with his mind as it runs ahead of him, like a child chasing a balloon in the wind.  Ayten had his eyes closed with his arms in the air, rotating his body back and forth like a witch doctor.  He was totally unaware of us walking by and if he knew the hooker was dancing with him, he couldn’t care less.  He just loves to dance.  Below is a picture I took of Ayten with Solomon last year in Kigali.  They asked me to take their picture and just as I pressed the shutter, Solomon said, “Ayten is my father”.  Hence the look on Ayten’s face.  I’ll let you determine who is Solomon and who is Ayten.

I have to be careful what I say to these guys, because many times a casual comment will be construed as a command.  On our way to Kampala I stood in line in the terminal wondering aloud what was taking so long.  Ayten took off to the counter to get to the bottom of it and I had to catch him and drag him back.  “Ayten, no!”

The traffic here is not like Addis, which is both bad and bad.  Motorcycles dominate the roads, all of them carrying people and goods.  At an intersection they will swarm the vehicles like flies on watermelon, and if there is a break on the intersecting traffic they will take off against the traffic lights.  Kinda like throwing a rock at the watermelon.  I’ve seen them carrying: mattresses, furniture parts, parents with 3-4 kids, DHL boxes, chickens/goats/dogs, plastics jugs, old women sitting side-saddle and I saw a guy in back holding what appeared to be a long section of stovepipe sticking up in the air.

Forget the traffic laws.  They are only for non-motorcycle vehicles.  I worked with a Seabee from Kenya who told me, traffic lights in Nairobi are only obeyed if a traffic cop is present.  As soon as he leaves, it’s a free for all.

While riding the shuttle to and from the airport every day, there will be venders who stand at the congested intersections to hawk their wares.  I would see several of them carrying a clear bucket of what I thought was chopped up pieces of a plant.  Ayten told me they were grasshoppers and tasted terrible.  Terrible!  He repeats things like that. “Have you tasted of them, Ayten?”  “No!  No! They taste terrible!”  he replied.  “Terrible!”

Also, along the side of the road we traveled on, I saw many pieces of furniture for sale.  I mean, a lot of furniture.  It took several trips to and fro, before I realized, they were actually building the furniture right there on the side of the road!  And it was good looking stuff.  Some upholstered, and some just wood, but nice looking stuff.  – just right there on the side of the road and left it there to sell.

I’ve been through several airports overseas, but the one in Uganda was most unusual.  It is the first time the officer at any passport control, actually pronounced my name correctly and casually visited with me as he did his check.  Made the trip seem so much more pleasant.

Now that I’m home, I uploaded several of the best pictures I took of Kampala.  I have what I call, flying shots.  They are taken very quickly from a fast moving vehicle of the side of the road.  Many of them turn out blurred, but those that did not are posted.  Look over to the left side of the page and you will find a link to our Flickr site.