Sunday, February 13

Remember the enjera stove? Well, it’s called a mogogo and it was hooked up Friday. Electricity is treated with contempt here in Ethiopia. If an American electrician saw what they do here, if he didn’t pass away from shock, he would probably be so wigged out he just wouldn’t be able to cope.

     When they installed the reservoir outside, they simply snuck two #10 copper wires out of the electrical box, hooked them to a switch, not attached to anything, and ran the wire to the pump. When they installed the mogogo, they took two #10 wires, both blue, from the hot side of the switch and ran them back to the maid’s quarters. The wires were draped like Christmas garland on whatever protuberance conveniently existed. However, we now have homemade enjera and the pump still works.

     The secret to why Ethiopian homes don’t burn down or why people aren’t routinely shocked by electricity is simple: everything is made of concrete or stone. So it doesn’t burn and if it shorts out, you don’t need a ground wire, because the entire dwelling is one big ground. Simple, isn’t it?

     It may sound like I’m trashing the craftsmanship here, and truly, at first glance it seems somewhat primitive. What I’m coming to believe is that it’s quite creative. Basic tools and equipment are very scarce here in Ethiopia. So people have learned to cope with make-do methods that work. Sure, the European way would be better, safer, more efficient, but given what they have to start with, the Ethiopian way is truly admirable.

     Now, back to the stove. So today we had our first homemade enjera. It was good! Enjera is made of teff flour. Teff is a small grain grown here in abundance, similar to buckwheat. If you google “teff” you will discover that it is almost a miracle grain. It has all the proteins needed to sustain animal life and a whole lot more besides. If it weren’t for teff and the resultant enjera, this nation would starve. It is common for a family to use 100 kilos of teff flour a month.

     Enjera is a giant pancake, two to three feet in diameter. It is made from teff mixed with water and left to ferment (the fermenting organisms just blow in from the air, nothing is added) for about three to four days. It is cooked on one side only and it is spongy in consistency. When you eat your tibs or wat (we’ll talk about them another time), you tear off some enjera and put it on your plate. Then you pile your food on it and, tearing small squares of enjera off a roll of it held in your left hand and placing it on top of your food. You use your right hand to grab some food with the enjera, pop it in your mouth, and that’s it.

     You always eat with your right hand, never the left. We studied one class at the school and all 30 plus students are right handed. You don’t have the luxury of being left handed in Ethiopia. To eat with the left hand is simply not done. Anyway, that’s enjera.

     Remember the watchman? We didn’t fire him. He agreed to move out of the maid’s quarters and sleep outside. Now we have the watchman’s bed just outside the front door. I know the watchman is good to have, but when he’s outside, I make sure the doors are locked. He’s a tough looking old bird.

     And our cargo has arrived. We’ve opened all the boxes and it appears nothing was lost or broken, no small feat. Thank you Jesus! We had nearly forgotten what we shipped, so it was great to see stuff that will help at the school, some books for recreation, more clothing, our sewing machine, lots of fabric, etc. We are grateful!

     The cargo was held for skatey-eight reasons for two weeks at the Addis Ababa airport and finally released to Tewolde Abraha, Tesfai’s brother in law, when we got all the stars to align correctly. And here is the good news. I bought a new printer, copier, scanner before we left and shipped it. It was the only thing in the 10 pieces that was in a different box. Customs made us pay 2000 Birr for the printer, but, and this is the best part, didn’t even open the other cases. They would surely have had a heyday with our sewing machine and a number of other items. All in all, it was a very successful shipment.

     We have hit another snag about our residency permits. Our visas allow us to stay and work for the school for two years and are renewable. However, without residency permits, air fare to Addis or anywhere else inside the country is three times what residents pay. We also cannot open a bank account or really own anything here without a residency permit. So we’re persevering and getting the officials whatever else they need. It will get straight eventually, I’m sure.

     That’s the news from Mekele, Tigrai, where the sun always shines, the temperature is always pleasant and the people are truly good looking.