This morning we got in the first real traffic jam we’ve seen. As we were approaching the the highway, traffic entering all four sides of the intersection (at the same time of course) and all wanting to turn left resulted in a complete gridlock. No amount of gesturing, suggestions from one driver to another, or horn honking could unsnarl it (and believe me, they tried a lot of each.) Finally a policeman strolled up and, waving and blowing his whistle, quickly sorted it all out. We had seen police at a couple of intersections before, invariably the ones with the slowest flow of traffic, leading to the question of whether their presence was the result of the heavier traffic, or its cause (since everyone tends to obey the rules a bit more closely when they’re around. Now we know. The plan this morning was to ride back out to complete the work on the wells, and maybe even to visit inside one of the homes. There was a bit of delay when we found that our contact inside the village was out getting supplies, so Nazif suggested we stop at a coffee shop he knew at a mall along the way. I had had a cup at breakfast, and I’ve decided one of the four-ounce cups a day is my limit (I often drink six regular mugs of coffee in a day at home) so I looked around the mall instead. Very small by the standards of U.S. malls, it had maybe six shops on each of its three floors. Items were more upscale than what you find in the street shops: bridal gowns, appliances, electronics, and the like prices were comparable to what you’d expect at home, maybe a touch lower. One thing: if you buy furniture, you have three flights of stairs to carry it down. Once outside, we were, as usual, approached by beggars. It’s heartbreaking to turn them down, especially the kids, but you quickly find that if you succumb to one "ten birr please sir" you’ll have twenty kids standing there in seconds. Three boys (one for some reason wearing a party hat) had set up a shoeshine stand, though, and I decided that I could justify "tipping" them if I were paying for a service. I figured it wouldn’t make my dirty boots any worse to have some polish on them, even though they’re canvas and suede, but that didn’t matter anyway: they didn’t have any polish, and the "shine" was just slightly less-muddy water rubbed across them with great enthusiasm. They all got their ten birrs. Mike bought a tray of apples at the grocery store and passed them out. One little girl literally jumped for joy at the treat. Nazif explained that apples are so expensive here (even if you’re not charged the fereji price as Mike had been) that she had likely never before had one in her life. Imagine tasting your very first apple! Nazif finally was able to get in touch with our contact, and got a surprise. It seems that after the team left yesterday, the men in the village had gotten on a streak and had completed the work on the wells a day early! Therefore we would not be needed until tomorrow morning’s dedication ceremony. Of course this was good news, but it was a disappointment to miss seeing the homes. So instead we rode about five miles past the village area, and visited the market in Sendafa City. This was a bustling little community, more advanced than the villages, but still worlds away from the advances common in Addis Abeba. The market is a lot like an open-air flea market in the United States. There were a few "shops" inside semi-permanent structures of wood and sheet metal, but most of the stalls were no more than a blanket spread on the ground, and if the seller was lucky, a tarp propped up on a few eucalyptus poles to keep the sun of her head. All the essentials of life are available there: vegetables, spices, clothing, cooking utensils, baskets, great piles of mix-and-match shoes, you name it. Chickens are carried around by their feet if alive, or by the neck if not, and there were quite a few worried goats tied up here and there. The people were (as usual) quite friendly, and most (though not all) greatly enjoyed our efforts to take their photos. One thing we had not seen before were horse-drawn two-wheel carriages, which are the mode of transportation inside the market, as well as on the highway that runs through Sendafa City. In Addis Abeba, people get around in chunky little blue-and-white Toyota taxis (or almost identical Russian-made Ladas) or else in minivans (also painted blue and white) that have been converted for passenger use. The latter have eleven seats, including the driver’s, so naturally, at rush hour in the afternoon, they each are carrying between fifteen and twenty passengers. We’ve seen them so full passengers are literally hanging out the windows. In the "suburbs" between Addis Abeba and Sendafa, little motorized tricycles taxis carry three or four plus a driver, but these are apparently too small and easy to squash for many to use them in the city. Waist-high little burrows (or donkeys, we can’t decide) never seem to be used for transportation, but are common carriers of goods. We’ve seen them loaded down with all manner of items,being driven down the roadside. (We even saw three of them carrying their loads down the highway on their own; we don’t know if they had escaped or just knew the route.) When not being used, they donkeys are turned loose on the side of the road or in median to eat whatever grass they can find. Apparently they know to keep out of traffic, as do sheep, which huddle in little herds in the median. Goats, on the other hand, will run off (or chew through a tether) so many shops have a goat box made of corrugated metal sitting on the sidewalk, keeping the goat in one place until… needed. (Goats seem to fare poorly here; we’ve seen great piles of fly-swarmed goat hides –lower legs and hooves attached– for sale in the medians, with skinned goat heads neatly lined up along the curb.) Addis Abeba is Ethiopia’s capitol, so there are diplomatic missions from all over the world located here. Heading back, we cut through the section of town where several African embassies are located. The look of the embassies tends to reinforce your general impression of the nation. America’s embassy is huge, secure-looking and (note to Hillary Clinton) ugly as heck. The Russian Federation embassy is big, but looks like it has seen better days. The British embassy is large, powerful-looking and welcoming (a big sign out front wishes Ethiopia good luck in the upcoming London Olympics.) Angola, on the other hand, has theirs fenced in with what appears to be locally-scrounged corrugated metal. Lunch was a surprise: "Rodeo Addis," a Texas-themed restaurant! It would have been at home anywhere in San Antonio, with cowboy boots, posters of John Wayne, and longhorns scattered all around the walls (and a parking attendant wearing a way-too-large Stetson.) They didn’t seem too surprised or impressed to have six actual Texans with them, but the food was certainly good. Next we went to the offices of the Oromia Development Association, our hosts in Addis Abeba, where we met with the organization’s administrators. In addition to working to provide clean water for the 54% of the residents of Oromoia (Ethiopia’s largest province) who have none, the ODA also provides health services and education, contraception supplies and information, AIDS / HIV screening and care, and general education. So far, they are active in 132 of Oromia’s 304 districts, although they add more all the time. Part of their general philosophy is that those receiving the services should also have a stake in things, so (with the wells project, for example) the families benefiting from the new water supplies will each give a small fee that goes into a general fund for the upkeep and monitoring of the wells. They help the villages open a bank account in the city for these funds (often the first anyone involved has ever had) and oversee the village council that is in charge of the well. (Another of the ODA’s focuses is gender equality, so each of these village councils must have at least several women as members.) All this is done on a budget of only 24-30 million birr (about $1.5 – 1.8 million) per year. Essentially all of their funding comes from charitable donations from the United States ("so God bless America" one said) orchestrated by groups like Mekane Yesu, Glimmer of Hope, and of course Water to Thrive. They are justifiably proud of their successes so far, and eager to continue in their growth. In fact, they are in the process of building a modern new office building top house their growing staff. But, like apparently most Ethiopians, the administrators of ODA are born businessmen: much of the new building will be rented out to a bank, so that it serves as a new source of funding, rather than an expense. Tomorrow will be our last day here before we say goodbye to our new friends and fly to Gondor. Dohna’hun, Larry

This morning we got in the first real traffic jam we’ve seen. As we were approaching the the highway, traffic entering all four sides of the intersection (at the same time of course) and all wanting to turn left resulted in a complete gridlock. No amount of gesturing, suggestions from one driver to another, or horn honking could unsnarl it (and believe me, they tried a lot of each.) Finally a policeman strolled up and, waving and blowing his whistle, quickly sorted it all out. We had seen police at a couple of intersections before, invariably the ones with the slowest flow of traffic, leading to the question of whether their presence was the result of the heavier traffic, or its cause (since everyone tends to obey the rules a bit more closely when they’re around. Now we know. The plan this morning was to ride back out to complete the work on the wells, and maybe even to visit inside one of the homes. There was a bit of delay when we found that our contact inside the village was out getting supplies, so Nazif suggested we stop at a coffee shop he knew at a mall along the way. I had had a cup at breakfast, and I’ve decided one of the four-ounce cups a day is my limit (I often drink six regular mugs of coffee in a day at home) so I looked around the mall instead. Very small by the standards of U.S. malls, it had maybe six shops on each of its three floors. Items were more upscale than what you find in the street shops: bridal gowns, appliances, electronics, and the like prices were comparable to what you’d expect at home, maybe a touch lower. One thing: if you buy furniture, you have three flights of stairs to carry it down. Once outside, we were, as usual, approached by beggars. It’s heartbreaking to turn them down, especially the kids, but you quickly find that if you succumb to one "ten birr please sir" you’ll have twenty kids standing there in seconds. Three boys (one for some reason wearing a party hat) had set up a shoeshine stand, though, and I decided that I could justify "tipping" them if I were paying for a service. I figured it wouldn’t make my dirty boots any worse to have some polish on them, even though they’re canvas and suede, but that didn’t matter anyway: they didn’t have any polish, and the "shine" was just slightly less-muddy water rubbed across them with great enthusiasm. They all got their ten birrs. Mike bought a tray of apples at the grocery store and passed them out. One little girl literally jumped for joy at the treat. Nazif explained that apples are so expensive here (even if you’re not charged the fereji price as Mike had been) that she had likely never before had one in her life. Imagine tasting your very first apple! Nazif finally was able to get in touch with our contact, and got a surprise. It seems that after the team left yesterday, the men in the village had gotten on a streak and had completed the work on the wells a day early! Therefore we would not be needed until tomorrow morning’s dedication ceremony. Of course this was good news, but it was a disappointment to miss seeing the homes. So instead we rode about five miles past the village area, and visited the market in Sendafa City. This was a bustling little community, more advanced than the villages, but still worlds away from the advances common in Addis Abeba. The market is a lot like an open-air flea market in the United States. There were a few "shops" inside semi-permanent structures of wood and sheet metal, but most of the stalls were no more than a blanket spread on the ground, and if the seller was lucky, a tarp propped up on a few eucalyptus poles to keep the sun of her head. All the essentials of life are available there: vegetables, spices, clothing, cooking utensils, baskets, great piles of mix-and-match shoes, you name it. Chickens are carried around by their feet if alive, or by the neck if not, and there were quite a few worried goats tied up here and there. The people were (as usual) quite friendly, and most (though not all) greatly enjoyed our efforts to take their photos. One thing we had not seen before were horse-drawn two-wheel carriages, which are the mode of transportation inside the market, as well as on the highway that runs through Sendafa City. In Addis Abeba, people get around in chunky little blue-and-white Toyota taxis (or almost identical Russian-made Ladas) or else in minivans (also painted blue and white) that have been converted for passenger use. The latter have eleven seats, including the driver’s, so naturally, at rush hour in the afternoon, they each are carrying between fifteen and twenty passengers. We’ve seen them so full passengers are literally hanging out the windows. In the "suburbs" between Addis Abeba and Sendafa, little motorized tricycles taxis carry three or four plus a driver, but these are apparently too small and easy to squash for many to use them in the city. Waist-high little burrows (or donkeys, we can’t decide) never seem to be used for transportation, but are common carriers of goods. We’ve seen them loaded down with all manner of items,being driven down the roadside. (We even saw three of them carrying their loads down the highway on their own; we don’t know if they had escaped or just knew the route.) When not being used, they donkeys are turned loose on the side of the road or in median to eat whatever grass they can find. Apparently they know to keep out of traffic, as do sheep, which huddle in little herds in the median. Goats, on the other hand, will run off (or chew through a tether) so many shops have a goat box made of corrugated metal sitting on the sidewalk, keeping the goat in one place until… needed. (Goats seem to fare poorly here; we’ve seen great piles of fly-swarmed goat hides –lower legs and hooves attached– for sale in the medians, with skinned goat heads neatly lined up along the curb.) Addis Abeba is Ethiopia’s capitol, so there are diplomatic missions from all over the world located here. Heading back, we cut through the section of town where several African embassies are located. The look of the embassies tends to reinforce your general impression of the nation. America’s embassy is huge, secure-looking and (note to Hillary Clinton) ugly as heck. The Russian Federation embassy is big, but looks like it has seen better days. The British embassy is large, powerful-looking and welcoming (a big sign out front wishes Ethiopia good luck in the upcoming London Olympics.) Angola, on the other hand, has theirs fenced in with what appears to be locally-scrounged corrugated metal. Lunch was a surprise: "Rodeo Addis," a Texas-themed restaurant! It would have been at home anywhere in San Antonio, with cowboy boots, posters of John Wayne, and longhorns scattered all around the walls (and a parking attendant wearing a way-too-large Stetson.) They didn’t seem too surprised or impressed to have six actual Texans with them, but the food was certainly good. Next we went to the offices of the Oromia Development Association, our hosts in Addis Abeba, where we met with the organization’s administrators. In addition to working to provide clean water for the 54% of the residents of Oromoia (Ethiopia’s largest province) who have none, the ODA also provides health services and education, contraception supplies and information, AIDS / HIV screening and care, and general education. So far, they are active in 132 of Oromia’s 304 districts, although they add more all the time. Part of their general philosophy is that those receiving the services should also have a stake in things, so (with the wells project, for example) the families benefiting from the new water supplies will each give a small fee that goes into a general fund for the upkeep and monitoring of the wells. They help the villages open a bank account in the city for these funds (often the first anyone involved has ever had) and oversee the village council that is in charge of the well. (Another of the ODA’s focuses is gender equality, so each of these village councils must have at least several women as members.) All this is done on a budget of only 24-30 million birr (about $1.5 – 1.8 million) per year. Essentially all of their funding comes from charitable donations from the United States ("so God bless America" one said) orchestrated by groups like Mekane Yesu, Glimmer of Hope, and of course Water to Thrive. They are justifiably proud of their successes so far, and eager to continue in their growth. In fact, they are in the process of building a modern new office building top house their growing staff. But, like apparently most Ethiopians, the administrators of ODA are born businessmen: much of the new building will be rented out to a bank, so that it serves as a new source of funding, rather than an expense. Tomorrow will be our last day here before we say goodbye to our new friends and fly to Gondor. Dohna’hun, Larry