Violence and Safety: Nicaragua Perspective

This week I was talking to a friend about living in a safe place.  As humans, it’s one of our most basic needs, to feel safe in the place we are living.  I have lived in Nicaragua now for almost a complete year.

The conversation I was having this week started hitting on some familiar themes.  “Do you feel safe living there?” she asked? “I could never live there, how do people feel safe walking on the streets? she continued “People there must be either scared all the time or really brave.”  She finished with my favorite sentiment “It seems like the culture is so violent!”

Nicaragua often invokes images of war and destruction.  The civil wars and ensuring contra-revolutionary wars were well publicized by the Untied States news media has left many North Americans imagining Nicaragua as a place where rebel soldiers are hiding in the forests, ready to attack at any moment.  To be fair, it’s an image that is scary and would lead one to believe that this is a dangerous place to live. 

Images and perception are powerful in our imaginations.  Often these perceptions become “truth” for large parts of society.  This is how I live peacefully in Nicaragua while many people can’t believe that I’m not armed with a rifle defending myself.

My friend and I this week were not talking about Nicaragua, however.  As a Nicaraguan, she was reacting to the news of the tragic shooting in Orlando, and the nearly constant news reports flowing form the United States about gun violence.  The perception that she has is that we have mass murderers roaming the streets shooting people at will in the United States.  It must be terrifying to leave the house because you never know when you are going to be shot down.

My newsfeed has been full of news about filibusters, second amendment rights and (Radical Islamic) Terrorism.  If we set all that aside and think about it from an outsider’s perspective, the United States sounds like a pretty scary place.  And if we set aside our internal discussions for a moment and think about the perception of an outsider, yeah, she is right.

This woman has lived through years of war in her own country.  She was literally living in a country where rebels were hiding in the forests trying to kill civilians.  And her perception is that the United States’ gun culture is terrifying.  Perception is powerful.  My perception is that she could be right. 

We cannot let this go on any longer.  We cannot be a society that accepts our citizens using military-grade weapons on each other.  We cannot be a country that literally will not stop terrorists from buying weapons.  We need to DO SOMETHING!  Our brothers and sisters are being killed every day in nightclubs, in churches, on the streets of Chicago and by toddlers in their own bedrooms.

Inaction is complicity in perception becoming reality.  I love my country, feel safe there and will happily return soon.  Because our inaction to act, however, the perception that exists outside our country could soon become our reality within.

Nicaragua: First Impressions

I’ve told some people privately lately, but I think it’s worth sharing that it’s a really good feeling to know that the place you are is where you are supposed to be and the work you are doing are exactly what you are meant to do. 

Upon my approach to Managua I saw the thick haze of dust that greeted me as my plane descended from the clouds in a classic hallmark of a dry country in need of rain.  After clearing immigration and customs in Managua, I felt the morning heat and took my first inhale of the concoction of burning garbage and diesel fuel that I had been missing in the sanitized cleaner-emission city of New York.  This is not a complaint about Managua, as I generally welcome this smell that is unique to a nation that is growing and developing, but still has work to do.  It was the breeze of a welcome home to a place that I had never visited but already felt intimately familiar with.

One of Many Parades in the streets of Leon

Fortunately the air is cleaner in León and its pristine in the volcanoes where we hike.  I’ve settled in and am falling in love with this old colonial city.  Its one of the oldest cities in Central America and home to the nation’s top universities, hordes of expats and tourists, and within striking distance of some of the youngest and most active volcanoes in Central America.  The city is full of large churches in various states of repair that are the landmarks for navigating the city (I live 2 blocks north and ½ block West of the Cathedral, for example).  Some are artifacts, and some are alive and well, with crowds spilling out the front and side doors for Sunday masses.  The Church of the Merced (Our Lady of Mercy) is right around the corner and I attend mass there on Sundays when I can get in the door.

When I’m not exploring the city, I’m trying to get to know the people and culture here.  I’m really fortunate that Quetzaltrekkers has two Nicaraguans who work as guides and that our Board of Directors is made up entirely of Nicaraguans.  We work hard together, but they are also very social and open to discussing their country and culture over a liter of Toña beer or a Nica Libre (Rum & Coke).  We’ve already had many events and parties where we all get together and practice each others’ languages and learn from each other.

My Spanish is getting much better, but still has a long way to go.  Its hard to believe that I’ve been here a month already and some days it feels like I’m making leaps and bounds in my Spanish proficiency (talking to clients on the phone, negotiating business transactions, ordering food, etc) and some days I feel like I don’t know a single word in Spanish, let alone how to pronunicate or conjugate the words that I barely know.  I’m also finding it difficult to take time to study after long days of work in the office or in the sun on volcanoes.

 

And finally, the work thus far has met all of my expectations.  This organization’s model of turning tourism dollars into support for children is novel, brilliant, and its working.  Tourism is frequently shown as a successful and sustainable way to develop a nation by bringing tourists with expendable cash to an economy.  Typically a nation hopes that the entire economy will improve and services such as education and other social services will follow.  Quetzaltrekkers isn’t waiting for this gradual change and is directly

supporting local organizations already doing great work with children.  We work with organizations who run pre-schools, after-school programs, outreach to street-kids and drug-rehab programs (kids sniffing glue is a problem here in León).  We also just built a school on top of an active volcano for a community of about 50 families who wanted better education for their children.  And, best of all, I selfishly have opportunities to go visit all these projects and work first-hand with the children we support.

The community of volunteers we have has also been welcoming.  I arrived to a community of

volunteers from five nations, all young, vibrant and inspired to work hard.  And work hard we do.  Hiking volcanoes is not leisurely for a guide.  We prepare all the food and equipment for our clients (this means checking lots of tent poles and cutting many vegetables) the night before our hikes and wake up early to lead them.  We trudge up steep inclines carrying 40 lb bags, bake in the sun and try to start fires with wet wood.  And through all this, the volcanoes are amazing.  A client recently asked me if I get tired of leading hikes.  At the time I was standing on top of an active volcano explaining how the chain of five other volcanoes we were looking at were formed.  It’s a breathtaking sight and remarkable to think about every time that I am standing on top of that volcano the tectonic plates are shifting under my feet.  I’m not yet immune to the beauty and natural wonder of what I’m doing.

And it is wonderful.  I’m still in the “high” phase of my initial cultural adjustment (those of you who have experienced culture shock know what I’m talking about).  I am in an amazing place, surrounded by great people doing work that is hard, but fulfilling and worthwhile.  I do miss my girlfriend, my friends and my family.  I do wish I could do this without sacrificing investing time into those relationships.  I also really wish I could find hot wings and a good IPA.  But with Meghan joining me in Nicaragua shortly and by building a community around me (and friends and family from home scheduling trips), I already know that this place will be more than suitable as a temporary home.

Commencement 2013

This year I had the privilege of addressing the graduating class from my alma mater, Central DeWitt High School.  Below is video and text of my speech.

Thank you Mr. Pickup,


Superintendent Peterson, President Kunz, Members of the Board, Mr. Pickup, Mr. Kreiter, teachers, staff and that graduating class of 2013: thank you for the invitation, I’m very happy to be here.

When I got a voicemail from Mr. Pickup a few months ago, the first thought that instinctively ran through my head about attending any “graduation exercises” at his invitation would certainly entail me running wind sprints in the old High School Gym.

But it turns out that it was quite a different invitation.  I think the reason I thought this was that everything you have ever heard about Mr. Pickup as a basketball coach, the exceptionally high expectations and standards, the fiery drive to win and his uncanny ability to speak intimately to a referee who is on the opposite side of a gym, is probably true. 

And its because of this that I’m so humbled to be here at the invitation of two of my role models, Mr. Pickup and Mrs. Henricksen and sharing the stage with another, Mr. Kreiter.  These people have been formative in my own life and most of what you hear in my speech over the next 90 minutes has almost certainly been inspired, in part, by them.

Just kidding - aside from movies you’ll never have to sit in one place for 90 minutes again!  And I’ll keep this brief.

I’ve discovered over the past few weeks that giving a commencement address at the age of 26 is challenging.  I don’t purport to know nearly as much as your parents and there is no chance in hell that I’ll even come close to the number of YouTube hits that you all helped my friend Brandon get with his proposal earlier this year. 

Thanks for that by the way, I don’t know if she would have said yes without you.

But alas, today is your graduation.  I’m honored to be here and happy to share with you a few things I’ve picked up over the few years.

Today is your graduation and this occasion deserves praise and recognition.  Let me first say a sincere congratulations.  Your hard work and dedication got you here today, and that’s worth celebrating.

Your academic, athletic, artistic, service and leadership accolades that have been recounted this afternoon are impressive addendums to your diplomas.  I couldn’t get Mr. Pickup off the phone when I asked him about your accomplishments earlier this year so I won’t begin to try to acknowledge them all.


I do, however, personally have a special place in my heart for the new tall football trophy and the fact that you have now measurably proven your academic superiority to our friends up the road on Highway 61. 

But all of your individual successes are markers that you are setting yourselves up for bright futures.  Congratulations.

While your hard work got you here today, you have been put in a great place to succeed.  My own personal experience working in education has rarely been so celebratory as today.

• In this country, in fact, 25% of students who start High School do not finish.
  
• In Sub-Saharan Africa, only 38% of HS aged children are permitted to enroll in school due to a lack of resources.
  

Why am I telling you this?

First, I’d like to acknowledge and recognize the incredible school and community that helped get you here today.  They are, truly, amazing.

Second, however, is to remind you that today is not only your graduation, but today is your commencement.  A commencement is a beginning, the start of something new.

While this school and community have built you a solid foundation, its time for you to commence with a new beginning.  Its time to commence with vigor and enthusiasm, for the only thing that saddens me more than students not completing their education is people who have opportunity and fail to reach their potential.

As i was preparing for this commencement I couldn’t help but be reminded of a conversation I once had with a friend.  While I was in Rwanda I befriended a man named Kennedy, a Ugandan. 

Kennedy, like me, was in his early 20s.  He was tall, 6 ½ feet, skinny and blacker than the night.  He was, at the time, studying to be a priest, specifically to work with poor youth, and had the wisdom of Mother Africa locked inside his 23-year-old skinny stature. 

One day while walking through the banana trees Kennedy told me that I had gotten life right.

According to him, I, the recent college graduate spending a year in Africa, was on a quest to find myself.  I scoffed.  At the time I was sure that Kennedy was on the right track - dedicating his life in service to others had to be the route to fulfillment.

This conversation went on, both of us arguing our points, interestingly tending to use each other’s culture as a moral baseline.

As you begin on your post-graduation journey, this commencement, I think there is something to take away from that conversation.

Find yourself and then give it to others.

Find yourself and then give it to others.

As you walk away from here with your diplomas, you teachers won’t be there to assign readings, your coaches and advisors won’t be the daily presence that they’ve been for the past four years and if you’re leaving home there will be some distance from your parents. 

Its time to start crafting the person you want to be: time to find yourself.

Mark Twain once said that “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” 

You aren’t going to figure out why you were born today.  You won’t figure it out over the summer and I’m here to tell you probably not by the time you are 26.

Because finding yourself is an ever-repeating cycle of trial and error, risk and failure, chance and success, love and heartbreak and if you’re doing it right, plenty of joy.  While you won’t figure it all out today, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t start trying.

I can’t tell you exactly how to do this, or what path to take.  We humans all do it differently.  I do have a few suggestions though.  Mostly, I’d just like to challenge you to try new things, work hard and be open to change.

For those of you going to college: dedicate yourself very seriously to your studies.  Yes, the parties are fun and you’ll go to them - and thats fine.  But remember, they won’t get you any closer to your degrees.  Take classes that interest you, try new things and pick a field of study that you love, regardless of what your peers or parents might say.

If you aren’t going to college, that doesn’t mean that you need to stop learning or trying new things.  Keep reading and exploring.  In fact its even more responsibility for you.

In this quest make sure you find a moral or religious code by which to live your life and don’t be afraid of things you don’t know.  The Prophet Mohammed, Karl Marx, John Stuart Mill, Buddah, Jesus Christ and Ghandi have all formed my code and I’m richer for it.

Have an interest in how other people live.  Travel to places you’ve never been, learn a new language, play a new musical instrument and if you’ve never eaten sushi, you should make that a priority.

Seriously, I can’t tell you the regret I have for all the years of my life wasted not eating sushi because I feared it.

To find yourself you need to be open to change.  The dreams and aspirations you have right now probably won’t be the same one year from now, four years from now and definitely not eight years from now. 

My own priorities have shifted from line-backing to business courses to the political life in Washington DC to a rural farm in Rwanda and have landed me as a leader in my church community in New York City.  I’ve loved every stop along the journey because I’ve been open to change.

To find yourself you’ll need to take risks and do things that scare you.  I promise you that, success or failure, these will be the most rewarding decisions you ever make. 

Some of the most formidable moments in my life have been failures.  The successes, including diving off the tallest bungee jump in the world and moving to NYC without a job or money have been some of the most fun.

Finally, a quest to find yourself does not fit into the “you only live once” YOLO mantra.  YOLO is BS.  Its an excuse to do things without consideration of consequence.  Your decisions do have consequences.  Seek out the consequences in your life and make these your dreams and goals.  Make your dreams big and do things every day that lead you in their direction.

Now, I see about four dads with arms crossed in the gym right now.  Near the front over here I just heard Grandpa whisper to his wife “Who is this hippie?  Didn’t we get rid of them after the ‘60s?”

What I’m saying is not license to shirk responsibility.  For finding yourself is only valuable if you give it to others.  Living only for oneself is not only selfish, its short-sighted and irresponsible. 

You’re cheating both the world and yourself if you fall into this temptation.  The most rewarding thing that we can do as people is to dedicate our energies to something bigger than ourselves.

Give yourself to others.  Find a community and engage in it, whether its your town, school, church, club or team, give yourself to it and make sacrifices to make it better. 

Take all these leadership skills you’ve learned along the way and get others to come along with you.  Whether you're volunteering for a cause or have a relationship with a friend or family member, give yourself to it. 

Give to it freely and genuinely.  You’ll feel amazing as a person, and you’ll be making the world a better place simply by engaging, caring and being present in it.  Because, as Mother Theresa said, “We belong to each other.”

As you are finding yourself, you’ll need to find your own way to give it to others in your relationships and in your community.  And for the love of God, please vote.

Find yourself and then give it to others.

I don’t know a whole lot.  And I’m only eight years older than you.  I figured that to keep myself from feeling like too much of a fraud I should only leave you with eight words of advice, one for each year of life experience I have over you.  Find yourself and then give it to others.

You’ll have your diplomas in a few minutes.  Use them as springboards to achieve your own personal greatness, a greatness that will follow you on your quest of finding yourself and then giving to others.

Congratulations, Godspeed.  And go on... Commence!

I’ve been sanctioned…

After I left Malawi (see below) I was on the road to Victoria Falls, the seventh wonder of the natural world.  The falls can be seen from either Zambia or Zimbabwe, and because of my geographical location in Malawi, I decided to go through Zimbabwe.  Foreign Policy magazine recently ranked Zimbabwe as the second worst failed state in the world (after only Somalia).  I was prepared for poor infrastructure, poverty and general chaos upon arriving in the capital city of two million people, Harare.  When I got off the bus, however, I was amazed at the modernity of this “failed state.”  Tall buildings, parks, fast food restaurants and busy, yet organized, traffic reminded me of a small city somewhere in the suburbs of the United States!  While there are great problems with the government (they now use the U.S. dollar as official currency because they lost control of their own) and I saw many instances of extreme poverty, this capital city gives a great first impression. Outside of the city there are some interesting sites and I chose to visit the balancing rocks in Epworth and the rock paintings in Domboshawa.

 

Bored with rocks I quickly departed the capital and traveled by bus and then train on to Victoria Falls, with the overnight train ride with personal sleeper (for only $7!) being my absolute favorite travel experience in the last two months.  The falls are impressive, as I suppose they should be if they are one of the wonders of the world.  I visited in the heart of dry season, however, and the flow was a little low, but still enough to get me pretty wet from the spray.  As usual, my amateur attempt at photographing this wonder leaves much to be desired!

Victorial Falls is known for its adventure sports.  Everything from rafting to bungee jumping to sky diving.  I was playing with the idea of doing something crazy when the money problem began.  The money problem being that the United States still has sanctions in place against Zimbabwe, including a clause that doesn’t allow money from US accounts to be withdrawn in the country.  That means this guy, who thought maybe it was a bad machine or miscommunication took his ATM problems lightly until he was left with only $14!  With the help of many friends and some luck hitch-hiking I made it to the border on only $9 and got to the nearest ATM in Botswana to finally get some cash.

After that I continued straight south to meet up with fellow DeWittian Matt”Regular” Dean in Gaborone, Botswana to relax for a few days.  We crashed a few birthday parties and snuck into the university pool, a great break from hectic travel and strangers.

This morning I took the bus to Johannesburg, South Africa, where I am waiting (10 hours) for my onward bus to Durban.  Joburg is a bustling city, the most developed I’ve seen in Africa (I had a real Big Mac for lunch!).  The best part is that there is still world cup paraphernalia all over the city.  It almost feels like its still happening!

Where is the Love?

This morning I was listening to the Black Eyed Peas song, asking where all the love in the world has gone.  I generally like to take a pessimistic view with musicians on this stand, but honestly, I’ve received much love recently.

Some days ago I arrived from Zanzibar to Moshi, in Tanzania to meet up with fellow Kohawk, Kim Hoff, who is student teaching there.  I kind of just showed up and suprised her, but she and her friends very very gracious and generous in hosting me.  Moshi is a nice little town sitting on the base of Africa’s highest peak, Mt. Kilimanjaro.  I was there for four days visiting the town, swimming in waterfalls on the slopes of the mountain, checking out the school and having a few Kohwak, Flunk Day Committee nights (if you aren’t a Kohawk you just won’t understand!)

I told Kim that my next stop was the Lake of Stars music festival in Malawi and she was so intrigued that she scrapped her own break plans of safari to join me (with her room mate’s brother, Andy).  For the next six days we journeyed from northern Tanzania to Southern Malawi on bus, car, Land Rover boat, truck and foot, while never paying for a place to sleep.

Day 1: Depart Moshi early in the morning and ride the bus for eight hours arriving in Dar Es Salaam.  Kim calls her friend amazing friend Megan who picks us up, takes us to her apartment to change and get ready to go out.  For the second Saturday night in a row I spend the entire night at a dance club and get on a bus as the sun was coming up.

Day 2: Try to sleep on the crowded, hot, broken-seated bus to Mbeya.  For above reasons, fail to sleep  I text my brother’s friend, Stephanie, and she insists that we divert and stay at her house for the night where she has dinner, beers and a cozy bed waiting for us!

Day 3: The decision is made to head south and chance a lake crossing rather than the longer, sure-bet overland route.  The morning starts with our travel staple, chips myai, a french-fry-omelet street food.  Take two short busses and get stuck en-route in a small town called Mbinga in the evening, frustratingly close to the lake we want to cross.  While asking for rides at the gas station, we are approached by an Indian man who advises us it isn’t safe to drive at night and insists we get in his car.  Kim is a little afraid, but I see the “Vincentian Fathers” logo on the door and reassure her.  Father Emmanuel takes us to his community’s house to feed us and give us a room.  In the morning he gives us breakfast, a ride into town and arranged transport for us.  We try to donate to his school, but he insists that he will only accept prayers.

Day 4:Bump along in an out-dated, uncomfortable, bumpy Land Rover for the morning on the rough, although very scenic road to Mbamba Bay, the port where we hope to find a ferry to Malawi.  We learn that the ferry has left hours before our arrival and our only hope is to hire a private boat for $800.  Defeated, we set up our tent on the beach next to the boat and continue to beg the owner, other boat owners  and immigration officers to get us to Malawi so we can make it to the festival.  In classic African style, nobody knows when the next boat will leave, what a fair price would be or is any big hurry to do anything.  We eat more chips myai, washed down with Kilimanjaro Lager and sleep on the beach.

Day 5: We learn that the boat is leaving this night!  Ecstatic, we walk out of town and find a beautiful deserted beach to swim and relax to kill the 14 hours before the boat leaves.  Mbamba is a nice little town (with no electricity) but there isn’t much to do.  We convince the boat owner that our (much reduced from $800) ticket price should include a beer at his bar.  One turns into many and we stumble onto the boat which departs at midnight.  It isn’t a comfortable ride (the fish smell from the hold doesn’t help) but it suffices as another free place to sleep.

Day 6: After arriving at Nkhata Bay, Malawi (finally!) we get excited and jump out of the boat before the boat is even tied up.  We are immediately stopped before leaving the dock: we need to wait for an hour for the immigration office to open.  Still a full day’s bus journey from the festival and being literally within sight of departing buses, this may be the longest hour of our journey, and we’re not stuck on a stationary boat.  We finally get through immigration, change money and catch a bus.  For the first time in a week we are cautiously confident that we’re going to make it to the opening act!  The bus stops about 100 miles from our destination at 3:00 p.m.  Not bad by normal standards, but in Africa this is still risky.  The first leg is an hour in a crowded mini bus which drops us at a fork in the road in the middle of nowhere.  We then jump into the back of a loaded truck with about 15 other people, sacks of corn flour and rice, boxes of fish and live chickens for our last leg.  The driver lies to us about the route and takes us about an hour out of the way, backtracking to pick up another box of fish.  I eventually get bored and am allowed to drive the truck for the last hour.  After dark, we finally arrive and set up camp, too tired to properly celebrate.

The festival was simply amazing, with musicians from accross Africa and Europe.  The days consisted of sleeping and relaxing by the pool, or playing life-size chess and we stayed up every night until dawn listening to amazing musicians and dancing with hoppin DJs.  They know how to party in Malawi!

The Swahili Coast

I’ve spent the last few days on the Indian Ocean on the coast of East Africa.  More specifically I visited Lamu (Kenya) and Zanzibar (Tanzania).  While I do love perfect white sand beaches, warm sun and boat rides, I’m digging the culture more.

The Swahili coast is the result of ancient trade routes between Africa, Arabia and India.  What resulted was a mixed people, Language and culture that is now known as Swahili.  These towns are filled with Blacks, Arabs, Indians, Christians, Muslims, Rastas and every sort of mixture of those identities possible.

The Swahilis also live in these paradise islands.  They were once strategic points for trade and agriculture, because of their ease of access, but today they are mostly geared for fishing and tourism.  The towns remain untouched and walking through the narrow passages in “Stone Town” one could easily think they are living in the 1700s!

And as with almost every African culture I’ve come into contact with, the people here are great.  Friendly, easy going people who are living a nice island paradise life.  While the Rastas do throw in the Jamaican “ya mon,”  most people’s tag-line is “Hakuna Matata”  (no problem, we’re free).

And my favorite part… FISH! I haven’t eaten good seafood for over a year in land-locked Rwanda, so needless to say, the fresh-catch seafood combined with the amazing Swahili spices has me in heaven.

This is the mighty “Zeitum” the dhow (Swahili sailboat) that I took a day tour for some fishing and beach relaxing.  I didn’t catch any fish, but the captain did and we had fresh caught barbequed fish on the beach.

Hand-carved doorframe from stonetown: Lamu

The seafood spread in Zanzibar.  A street buffet where you choose what you want from the vendor and he cooks it right there on his grill! (The Barracuda was excellent!)

 

Looking out my hotel in Stonetown, Zanzibar.  Small stone streets that aren’t big enough for cars (there aren’t any cars in Lamu anyway!) make for close quarters with every person, moped, donkey or camel that may be passing through!

A step into the past

I have spent the last few weeks traveling in the unique and beautiful country of Ethiopia.  Historically, Ethiopia differs from the rest of Africa with a rich ancient past and written language, including little influence from European colonialism.  It also differs with is choice of food and drink including delicious coffee and the grain, tef, lending itself to tasty creations found nowhere else.   Ethiopia is a remarkable place.

The first stop I made was with my friends Van and Chris to do some hiking in the Simien Mountain range.  This was my first true experience with backpack hiking/camping and, except for the rain, cold and hail, I enjoyed my time.

The landscape in the Simien resembles something of a mix between the astounding heights of the Rocky Mountains, breathtaking cliffs and drops of the Grand Canyon with a green covering resembling the Appalachians.  I took some photos of the landscapes, but most days it was too foggy for photography, and, as always, photos just diminish the spectacular sights.  We did, however, get to see some interesting wildlife, including the Gelda baboon and Walia ibex, which can only be seen in this place in the world.  On a couple occasions we just sat and watched the group of baboons playing around, stunning me at how close the mannerisms of these animals are to our own primate species (humans!).

In addition to the amazing views and wildlife we stopped in a village for a traditional coffee ceremony at local person’s home.  Ethiopia claims to be the country where coffee originated, and judging by how well they make it here, I can’t argue.  After declining three times we were served a plate of injera (the bread/pancake staple) with a sour milk/cottage cheese concoction and the traditional three cups of coffee in the traditional grass hut.

Our three days concluded with a spectacular panoramic view at Imet Gogo before the hike back to town.  We completed about 100 kilometers in a matter of four days without incident until the last 20 minutes where we sprinted to the first house we could find to avoid the pelting. bruising hailstorm!  The beauty and power of nature kept me in balance until the last minute!

After leaving the mountains and splitting ways with Chris and Van I continued North to check out some of Ethiopia’s spectacular history.  The oldest civilization to be recorded in Africa is the Yeha kingdom dating back to approximately the 4th Century B.C.  There isn’t a whole lot remaining from this time, but I saw the one wall from an old temple that remains, and some inscriptions and stone symbols paying tribute to the sun and moon, the object of Yeha’s religious loyalties.

 

After the fall of Yeha rule, the Axumite kingdom came to rise.  The city of Axum was the capital of this civilization, which was a powerhouse of the time, a regular acquaintance and partner of its European and Arabian counterparts.  Its most known for its ancient and imposing stelae, which pay tribute to the leaders of the kingdom.  The most impressive are over 30 meters tall and date back before the 4th Century A.D.!

 

One of these great stelea fell around the fourth century, which the kings took as a sign to convert to Christianity.  They then erected a magnificent Ethiopian Orthodox church dedicated to the Virgin Mary where (they claim) the Ark of the Covenant is housed.  Only one monk is allowed to see the actual ark, however, so its shrouded, quite literally, in mystery.

While the city of Axum was converting to Christianity, its influence spread and churches started springing up around the country.  The most remarkable, however, didn’t spring up, but rather were carved out!  Yes, the ancients decided that the best way to construct churches was to carve them directly out of stone, rather than erecting the stones.  They also, as I think is consistent with human-adventure-spirit, decided to put them in the most precarious places possible.  They are scattered across Northern Ethiopia, but my favorite by far was Abuna Yemata Guh, which required an hour hike and 15 minute climb to reach.  I’m terrified of climbing and heights, and this was no exception, but the reward was well worth the fear as I tight-rope walked a stone ledge over a 200 meter drop to cover the last steps to the door of the church.  This shot is from the front of the church looking down to the baptismal chamber.  Yes, people still haul their newborns up here!

 

The final stage of Ethiopia’s history that I explored was the reign of St. King Laliabela, around the 13th Century.  He’s most known for his miraculous construction (in some cases literally overnight with the help of Jesus or the saints!) of the 11 rock-hewn churches left behind in his capital.  Again, the amazing thing about these churches is that they are completely monolithic, meaning that they are entirely one piece, carved from rock.  Wandering through these mammoth structures, I too believe that there must have been some divine intervention in their construction.  The is Bet Giyorgis, dedicated to St. George.

And I’m finally back to present day Ethiopia, sitting here in Addis Ababa at the Salesian community, waiting for my plane tomorrow to fly me back to Kenya.  I have many great transportation, hotel, party and interaction stories that I can’t wait to share with my friends and family when I return home.  I need to save something to talk about!