Most mornings one of us visits a small shop to buy bread for breakfast. The shop is only round the corner from us, on one of the main streets. It’s actually a café that also sells bread and cakes, but like many of the buildings lining the main roads in Awassa, the front of it was demolished several months ago to make space for road widening. For the first couple of months I had to scramble over a pile of rubble to get to the bread counter, which was practically out in the street as the front of the building had literally been torn off. Now, the rest of the café has re-opened and the pile of rubble has slowly subsided, although the section containing the bread counter stills looks naked. The broken edges of the supporting walls advertise where the front wall used to be. The two men who run the place have quickly become used to one of us Ferenji asking for bread and always enjoy our attempt to use Amharic.

Our loyalty to the bread shop is not because the bread is good. To our surprise all the bread here is white and we are craving, fantasising about even, wholegrain bread. The cakes are not much better – sweet, bland and stodgy. Apparently wholegrain bread is a sign of poverty, a sign that you live in such basic conditions that you have to use unrefined ingredients. How perverse it is for “refined” products to be seen as a sign of sophistication.

A large bread roll is 50 santeem (half a Birr). Our standard breakfast is white bread rolls with bananas and honey. A very occasional treat is to buy a small tub of crap chocolate spread. An alternative and more substantial breakfast is porridge. Oats are sold in tins and porridge made with powdered milk provides some variety from stodgy bread. When I go home I want to have scrambled eggs with butter and baked beans on wholemeal toast…

After the heat of the last few days, yesterday brought the heaviest rain I’ve seen in a while. Around 4pm, the clouds and rain showers spilling over the hills in the distance, marking the rim of the Rift Valley, were beautiful to watch. At 4.55pm the rain hit the college. At home we simply do not get rain like the torrential downpour that hit us. The temperature dropped and we were then faced with a choice between heading home before it got heavier, or waiting to see if it would stop soon. So we waited. The rain got heavier, a lot heavier. A small group of Ethiopian staff watched with amazement and horror as we decided to cycle home anyway. Better to be wet for 10 mins and be home than stuck at college for an unknown period of time. Ethiopians tend to regard rain as if it is strong acid: stop all activities, forget appointments and stay out of it. As we cycled off some of them looked as if they would never see us again. Crazy Ferenji heading into the rain to be dissolved.

The “long rains” are not due to start until June or July and we might be experiencing the first signs of their early arrival. The usual dramatic wall of dark cloud approached the college this afternoon and erupted into a hailstorm. I had the surreal experience of standing in my office covered in a clammy layer of sweat and with my shoes off due to uncomfortably hot feet, watching hailstones coming in through the open window.

I’m really growing to love my HDP group. I don’t really know what they think of me, although they do say they very much appreciate what they learn on the course, but I see them making progress and developing. I spent my session on Wednesday facilitating some activities designed to help them develop their reflection skills. Tomorrow will be starting to work with the Physics Dept. There’s lots to be done but I have to figure out ways of working with the Physics staff so they identify what needs to be done and how to do it. Whatever we work on has to be sustainable so it thrives without us.

One day when I look back through my blog I might find a tedious repetition of complaints about the heat. As boring as it might be, the heat on Friday afternoon must have been a record. Apart from copious sweating, the main symptom was a complete lack of energy and motivation. We spent the first part of the afternoon sitting on a shady porch outside the main building watching the birds circling overhead. At times like that we temporarily step out of Ferenji mode and into Habisha mode (Ethiopians call themselves “Habisha” from a corruption of an Arabic word used in ancient times meaning “burnt faces”). Moving slowly, conserving energy, always having time for whoever they might meet are some of the Habisha hallmarks. Instead of the usual Ferenji there-is-work-to-be-done attitude we enjoyed a moment of Habisha just-sitting.

There is a rubbish dump near to the college, which has resulted in a permanent cloud of birds circling around the compound. Most of the circling birds are vultures, eagles and huge ugly dinosaur-like Marabou Storks. There’s something meditative about sitting and watching a swirling cloud of these birds as they glide on thermal currents and then descend slowly like a precision parachutist.

I talked with my candidate with the poor English again. I’ve told him I want him to stay in the group and I will help him with his English. He was very happy and, for a moment I thought he was going to cry. I just hope I can actually make a difference now.

Most of our weekend has been spent at Aregash Lodge (http://ethiopie.50megs.com/aregashlodgeengl.html). It’s a luxury hotel in the countryside near Yirga Alem, a town about one hour bus ride to the south. Most of the lodge’s clientele are NGO and diplomatic staff, so the prices for us were steep. A very expensive but very enjoyable reward to ourselves for surviving so far!

From the depths of frustration, intolerance and stress to the highs of satisfaction and pleasure, this week has had it all. My Higher Diploma Group finished the first module of the course and completed a self-assessment. They had to assess themselves as “Poor”, “Fair”, “Good” or “Excellent” in the areas of: Reflective Activities, Lesson Planning & Evaluation, Contributing to Group Work, Portfolio, and Attendance & Punctuality. I already knew from other Leaders’ experience that candidates tend to over-estimate their performance, and my group were no exception. The high point was one candidate (a very experienced teacher) who evaluated himself as “Excellent” in nearly all areas despite lesson evaluations with comments such as “the lesson was all good”. I learned early on that most teacher educators have very little, if any, experience of being encouraged to critically reflect on their practice. If gave them back my marks of their performance yesterday and was anticipating a bit of a backlash after marking everybody down. I’m sure there were grumbles, but after giving lots of feedback nobody complained. I think I’ve reached a point with my group were I know them a lot better as people and they have some trust in me. It’s like being a teacher at home: you start with a new class of pupils and then get to know them as a group of individuals. I like all twenty six of my group. They lack skills and experience in areas most teachers at home would be quite familiar with soon after a PGCE, but some of these people have life experience no teacher at home could match. Some of my candidates started life in absolute poverty in a rural area, looking after livestock while running around barefoot. One of them worked for the government during the reign of Mengistu and spent 14 months in prison in appalling conditions for a “crime” he had nothing to do with.

Only one of my group could not pass the first module. His English is so poor that I cannot understand him. He has a wide vocabulary but his grammar is so poor that his speech, and especially his written work, is like a near-random collection of words. He is an art teacher with over twenty years experience and yet he has never had any teacher training or professional development. Most instruction is conducted in English so I’m a bit mystified about how any of his students can understand him. He desperately wants to stay on the course as he’s gaining a lot from the basic teacher training contained in it. I will have to remove him from being assessed so he cannot gain the qualification, but I’m happy to keep him in the group so he can learn what he can and I’ll work with him on his English.

I continue to be amazed and shocked at the sheer lack of resources here. After observing the Head of Music teaching a lesson, I learned that he studied Cello and Piano in Addis and played in a national orchestra for two years, but cannot practice now he is in Awassa as he cannot afford to buy a cello. He tries to encourage his students to appreciate music by playing them tapes, but they are his own tapes. The music dept have NO recorded music to play to students. There’s a tape recorder, one guitar and a small electric keyboard that doesn’t work, otherwise the students learn to play traditional instruments by sharing 14 instruments between a class of 30. Tomorrow I’m spending some time with the Physics Lab Assistant going through what little Physics equipment they have. I want to get involved with helping the science teachers to develop decent teaching workschemes and practical activities.

From the depths of frustration, intolerance and stress to the highs of satisfaction and pleasure, this week has had it all. My Higher Diploma Group finished the first module of the course and completed a self-assessment. They had to assess themselves as “Poor”, “Fair”, “Good” or “Excellent” in the areas of: Reflective Activities, Lesson Planning & Evaluation, Contributing to Group Work, Portfolio, and Attendance & Punctuality. I already knew from other Leaders’ experience that candidates tend to over-estimate their performance, and my group were no exception. The high point was one candidate (a very experienced teacher) who evaluated himself as “Excellent” in nearly all areas despite lesson evaluations with comments such as “the lesson was all good”. I learned early on that most teacher educators have very little, if any, experience of being encouraged to critically reflect on their practice. If gave them back my marks of their performance yesterday and was anticipating a bit of a backlash after marking everybody down. I’m sure there were grumbles, but after giving lots of feedback nobody complained. I think I’ve reached a point with my group were I know them a lot better as people and they have some trust in me. It’s like being a teacher at home: you start with a new class of pupils and then get to know them as a group of individuals. I like all twenty six of my group. They lack skills and experience in areas most teachers at home would be quite familiar with soon after a PGCE, but some of these people have life experience no teacher at home could match. Some of my candidates started life in absolute poverty in a rural area, looking after livestock while running around barefoot. One of them worked for the government during the reign of Mengistu and spent 14 months in prison in appalling conditions for a “crime” he had nothing to do with.

Only one of my group could not pass the first module. His English is so poor that I cannot understand him. He has a wide vocabulary but his grammar is so poor that his speech, and especially his written work, is like a near-random collection of words. He is an art teacher with over twenty years experience and yet he has never had any teacher training or professional development. Most instruction is conducted in English so I’m a bit mystified about how any of his students can understand him. He desperately wants to stay on the course as he’s gaining a lot from the basic teacher training contained in it. I will have to remove him from being assessed so he cannot gain the qualification, but I’m happy to keep him in the group so he can learn what he can and I’ll work with him on his English.

I continue to be amazed and shocked at the sheer lack of resources here. After observing the Head of Music teaching a lesson, I learned that he studied Cello and Piano in Addis and played in a national orchestra for two years, but cannot practice now he is in Awassa as he cannot afford to buy a cello. He tries to encourage his students to appreciate music by playing them tapes, but they are his own tapes. The music dept have NO recorded music to play to students. There’s a tape recorder, one guitar and a small electric keyboard that doesn’t work, otherwise the students learn to play traditional instruments by sharing 14 instruments between a class of 30. Tomorrow I’m spending some time with the Physics Lab Assistant going through what little Physics equipment they have. I want to get involved with helping the science teachers to develop decent teaching workschemes and practical activities.

From the depths of frustration, intolerance and stress to the highs of satisfaction and pleasure, this week has had it all. My Higher Diploma Group finished the first module of the course and completed a self-assessment. They had to assess themselves as “Poor”, “Fair”, “Good” or “Excellent” in the areas of: Reflective Activities, Lesson Planning & Evaluation, Contributing to Group Work, Portfolio, and Attendance & Punctuality. I already knew from other Leaders’ experience that candidates tend to over-estimate their performance, and my group were no exception. The high point was one candidate (a very experienced teacher) who evaluated himself as “Excellent” in nearly all areas despite lesson evaluations with comments o summer school courses as well. Give me a call and let me know if anyone has time to chill out. K.I.T. everyone! Have a wonderful summer!

May is turning out to be as hot as everybody has warned us it would be. The rain is unpredictable now compared to April, when it would rain nearly every afternoon. Even some of our Ethiopian colleagues were looking a bit hot yesterday. Our boss looked like he might actually have been sweating!

As if the weather isn’t hot enough, we made an Ethiopian dish called Shiro, a paste made of chickpea powder, onions, tomato and a mixture of spices called Berbere, for dinner. There was a bit too much chilli in it and I’ve been sweating so much my hair is wet.

After my rant of two days ago I feel a bit more upbeat. I think I should say something about how friendly and hospitable most Ethiopians are. There is a very strong culture of hospitality here. Greeting other people, asking how they are, etc is very important and time is always allowed to do this properly. When two people meet they shake hands and exchange greetings. There might follow a short conversation which involves asking each other how they are, in several different ways. In English most people might ask "how are you?" and not even listen for or expect much of a response. In Amharic there more than twelve ways of asking the same thing, and sometimes several of them will be used in one exchange! After doing nothing but asking "how are you?", the two people will part by shaking hands again. Simply walking from my office to another office can be a tedious and time consuming business of shaking hands and saying hello with several people, even though I only met them a short time earlier. As tedious as it can be, Ethiopians are so friendly and never never rush. No matter how much there is to do or how little time you have, there is always time to stop and greet.

The level of friendliness and willingness to help in any way possible can be wonderful and frustrating. There are times when I'm in full ferenji have-lots-to-do-and-need-to-get-on mode and all the nicey nice, always accommodating niceness gets right up my nose. When I feel like this, it usually means I have to slow down, chill out and just accept that the culture is different here. The downside is a poor attitude to time management. Make an appointment to do something at a certain time, and you can practically guarantee they will be late or will not show up at all. Half of my HDP group can be 10 mins late for a session for no reason other than poor awareness of time. All the Ethiopians I know have an intellectual understanding that ferenjis take time very seriously, and they agree that they should do the same, but something always comes up. The positive side is that the level of stress that is so common at home, simply doesn't exist here. Of course, life here is hard with few of the choices we take for granted, but people simply don't let time boundaries rule their lives. There is always time for each other. Despite the difficulties this causes with getting important tasks done, and the frustration it causes me, I actually rather like this approach to life. Perhaps by the time I leave, I might have learned from it.

Somewhere in a VSO training course during my former life back home, we had to brainstorm words and phrases which described what we expected life as a VSO volunteer to be like. I think I remember choosing words like “challenging”, “worthwhile”, “exposure to new cultures”, “tiring”, “hot”, etc. I also remember our training group choosing words like “lonely”, “frustrating” and “boring”. Today I feel like I’ve been through quite a list of words. Our morning run was stimulating, enjoyable, uplifting and cool. As the day has progressed my mood has slid downward. I’ve had lots of unstructured time on my hands and, despite having things to do and having achieved some of them, I’ve struggled with feelings of chronic under-stimulation and claustrophobia. I feel grumpy, irritable, low and in need of a good moan. My feeling of claustrophobia comes from not being able to just get out and go for a walk/run/cycle without being hassled by kids and adults, or because it might not be safe to go to certain places after dark, when it would be pleasantly cooler. Gill had an unpleasant experience while cycling to college after lunch. A man walking in the same direction, lunged at her brandishing his fist as if he was going to attack her. She avoided him but was a bit shaken. My tolerance of being a spectacle to be begged, stared at and shouted at is wearing thin. The never-ending attention is not malicious, it's just driven by being a symbol representing money, status and privilege. Two students at college have approached me recently to tell me about their difficult circumstances and to ask for money. Most of the callers are friendly with beaming smiles, but at times I find it suffocating and just want to shrink to invisibility. My fantasies of lashing out and silencing them all with an outburst of anger can be very vivid and enjoyable!

The Sunday morning run was good, after a week of no running. I’m feeling tired a lot at the moment. The combination of climate, understimulation and diet is draining. There is no lack of food available here and yet we have still lost weight. Our lives are a good deal less adrenalin-fuelled than they were at home, which might explain why we can be involved in very worthwhile and satisfying work and yet feel understimulated.

I’m reading a book called “Journey through Britain” by John Hillaby. The book, published in 1968, is his account of a walk he did from Lands End to John o’ Groats. I would love to do a walk like that and reading about somebody doing it, while I’m here in Africa, is fascinating. What’s particularly interesting is his description of walking across Britain during the 1960s. He describes strong regional variations in manner, accent and attitude that are probably much diluted now, forty years later.

Sometimes living in Awassa feels a bit like living on a farm. There seem to be at least as many animals as there are people. The main mode of transport here is a garry, a horse-drawn, 2-wheeled open carriage that operates as a taxi. There must be hundreds of them and they all look knackered, with wobbly wheels and bent frames. The horses are often in an even poorer condition. There are no vets or any concept of animal welfare here. The horses spend their lives trotting while pulling garries. Most of them are clearly not well fed and are sometimes whipped mercilessly. The state of some of them is shocking. Apparently, when the horses are truly knackered they are turned loose, hence the stray horses wandering he streets. I’ve also been told that some of them actually thrive and recover while they are able to freely wander and eat. The equivalent of a van here is the donkey garry, a donkey-drawn 2-wheeled flat wagon. I think the donkeys have easier lives and are certainly in much better shape than the horses.

There are also quite a large number of free-roaming cows, goats, sheep, chickens and dogs. Most of the dogs are strays although some are probably guard dogs which can roam free. The dogs seem to spend many hours during the night time howling, probably in response to the presence of hyenas, which come into town and scavenge in the streets. Once one dogs starts to howl others join in, adjusting their pitch to produce some surprisingly harmonious choral performances. The only good looking animals are the birds. There are some stunningly beautiful birds. One of my favourites is the Common Mousebird. In flight, it can only be described as looking like a flying mouse with a very long, feathered tail.

Fasil has just arrived home after sitting an exam this morning. He’s studying part-time for a degree in Rural Development & Family Science at Debub University. The students on the course seem to agree with their tutors when to sit exams, hence an exam on a Sunday morning. Today is particularly humid and it’s the first time I’ve seen Fasil sweating. I feel a bit better now that it’s not only me that’s suffering!

Our radio is a lifeline. We have a World Space radio, which receives radio stations which are broadcast by a satellite. There are dozens of different stations, but only about five are “unlocked” when you buy the radio (fortunately including the BBC World Service). To “unlock” the rest you have to buy a subscription. We finally decided to commit ourselves and spend $60 on the World Space website for an unlock code. It’s turned out to be $60 well spent. As well as CNN, Fox Sport and other BBC services, we have some fantastic music channels. My current favourite is “Ngoma”, an African dance music channel. There is very little talk, and it is in English, so there is almost continuous music. It’s all very happy and cheerful music with fantastic rythms.

Friday was a public holiday (Ethiopian Patriots Day) and my HDP candidates agreed to come to college to attend two sessions. On Monday they had arranged themselves into groups and they were assigned a new active learning technique. Each group had to prepare 10 mins of microteaching to be delivered to the rest of the group on Friday. They all did very well and some good discussion and feedback was generated.

We have spent more time this week thinking about having a break in July. We want to go trekking in Bale Mountains National Park, but July is not good for weather. I am increasingly clear about wanting to visit the UK in July. I want some time amongst the familiar and without being hassled.

Our kitchen

Even though I’m a teacher, observing other teachers lessons can be dull. Observing is always informative and it’s a great way of provoking you into reflecting on your own practice, but I’d rather be teaching a lesson than observing one. Still, observing my HDP candidates teach is an important part of the course and the four observations I did today were very revealing.

First on the list was a biology teacher. I turned up at his room at 8.10am (start of period 1) to be on the receiving end of the usual lets-all-gather-round-the-ferenji-and-stare experience from students. Initially it can be quite unnerving to be surrounded by more than twenty people who are chatting excitedly amongst themselves and staring in a completely unselfconscious way. The only way to deal with it is to talk to them. As soon as I say anything there’s a ripple of excited surprise in the audience: the Ferenji speaks!!!! I’ve learned two important lessons from these situations. First of all, try talking Amharic and laugh with them as they crack up in hysterics. Secondly, talk about football. “Manchester United”, “Chelsea” and “Arsenal” are key survival phrases in Ethiopia. Those three key phrases will get you a long way in most situations.

After 15mins of entertaining my captive audience, it became clear that Mitiku was either late (quite likely) or not turning up. It was time for an early coffee.

Next was period 3 with Zewidie, a history teacher. Zewidie has over 35 years of education experience and he would easily be able to intimidate a bunch of tough kids in a British classroom. His lesson was on International Development and I learned a few things. What was weird was to be a Ferenji from a rich country, in a lesson about the differences between Highly Developed and Underdeveloped Countries, by an Ethiopian teacher to Ethiopian students, who live in the 171^st poorest country in the world out of 175. The lesson was quite good although I’m not convinced the students developed any real understanding of the issues.

From 35+ years experience with Zewidie to 6 months experience with Abayneh, teaching environmental science. Despite his lack of experience, Abayneh was good. His organisation of group work was good and he managed to avoid the death-by-notes-on-the-blackboard approach favoured by so many. This lesson was in Sidamingna instead of English. Sidamingna is the language spoken by the people from the Sidamo zone of the SNNPR region. Students who are going to teach 1^st cycle children (Grades 1 to 4) are taught in the local language as this will also be the language of instruction in the schools they will work in. Sidamingna sounds like Italian to me and unlike Amharic, uses the English alphabet.

After lunch it was Psychology. I turned up on time (2.10pm) and was immediately surrounded by another group of fans gathering to stare at the ferenji-from-another-world. “Manchester United” worked a treat as usual. One of the students appeared with a camera and insisted on a photo of us together. Once his mate had taken our picture there was a clamour from everybody else for a picture with the Ferenji. I now have a lot of sympathy for famous people who are hassled by paparazzi. After 15 mins the cavalry arrived in the form of the teacher. His lesson was on emotions and stress. His English was good (most teaching is in English) if a bit black-and-white (anger is a negative emotion, experiencing an emotion intensely is unhealthy, etc). The idea of getting your students into groups to discuss and generate their own views on a topic is slowly sinking in, and there were encouraging signs of him trying some of the methods we’ve covered on the HDP.

Finally it was Eshetu teaching “Professional Issues for Teachers”. Eshetu’s lesson was the most impressive yet. After a Brain Gym exercise he straight away organised the students into groups to discuss leadership styles and their pros & cons. He had a lovely manner with his students and clearly enjoyed himself.

Punctuality is a big issue. Many students arrive at lessons very late, and most of the staff do not really have an effective way of dealing with them. However, staff being 15 or more minutes late is inexcusable (a period is 50 mins) and is symptomatic of a low awareness of time. A lot of people (and most students) do not wear watches and there are no clocks in any of the rooms. Poor punctuality is part of the African stereotype, and I’m afraid it is often true.

It’s getting late and approaching my bedtime. 10pm is a late night! Yesterday evening I was buzzed repeatedly by a mosquito. This morning I noticed several bites on my arm. We sleep under a mosquito net so at least we don’t get bothered at night. There is malaria in Awassa so I’m going to have to be more vigilant during the evening.

I’m still recovering from our weekend trip to Addis. We travelled to Addis on Friday because we were due our final Hepatitis vaccinations. I returned on Sunday and Gill will stay in Addis until Wednesday to attend a volunteer committee meeting.

The bus journey was interesting if tedious and uncomfortable. The bus could probably seat about 60 people. Even though the journey takes about six hours, the seats are the same design as you get on buses in a city in the UK: hard, uncomfortable, little legroom and with a handrail along the top of the seatback. Bus stations here are, to my Ferenji eyes, a picture of complete chaos. The only way to find out which bus is going where is to ask several people and take the median average of the responses. Once a bus has been filled, somebody might announce that we have to transfer to a different bus for no apparent reason. Even then, “departure time” is a very loose concept and depends on how full the bus is. Even leaving the bus station is eventful. Three buses might simultaneously attempt to fit through an exit wide enough for one. The bus might actually almost make it through the entrance before stopping while the driver and others have an unintelligible conversation about something, or even reverse back into the bus station to pick up more people. Meanwhile hundreds of people are milling about looking for buses, friends or trying to sell food to other people looking for buses.

The journey between Awassa and Addis is along the floor of the Rift Valley, through flat, dry-looking scrubland and past large lakes. There are very poor people living in small circular huts made of mud and wood, and children playing in muddy puddles, everywhere you look. After three bum-numbing hours we stopped for a 30 min break at a small town. All buses stop here and, as we stepped off the bus, a small army of people selling snacks, water and tissues descended on the passengers. The break is also an opportunity for the driver to stock up on Chat. Chat is a drug found in the leaves of a particular shrub. It’s a powerful stimulant, like strong coffee but longer-lasting, and is released when the leaves are chewed. With frequent use it can be addictive but is used by many people to help them stay alert e.g. drivers and students studying for exams. Seeing people stuffing leaves into their mouths is quite common. After regaining circulation to our legs, we set off for another three hour run into Addis.

Addis itself was a good deal less intimidating to me than when we were here nearly three months ago. Arriving at the Yonas Hotel (where we stayed during our in-country training) was a relief. The real pleasure of the Yonas is that the staff are very familiar with VSOs and the rooms have TV!

We had a fabulously expensive meal (140 birr each!) in a Middle Eastern restaurant that evening with Susanne and Stephanie, two Addis-based VSO vols. Cold white wine was lovely (a COLD drink!) and the food was stunning after being used to good-if-dull Ethiopian food in Awassa.

There are loads of Ferenji in Addis, working for embassies or NGOs. They are all generally well-paid and look it. I went looking for wholemeal flour in Bambis, a Ferenji supermarket. It’s a Ferenji shop because it sells food most Ethiopians would not be familiar with and at prices that must seem astronomical. I found it a bit depressing to see well-paid ferenjis filling shopping trolleys with staple food that costs several times what you can pay if you go to a small local shop, although I suppose the inflated amounts they pay go into the local economy.

The journey back to Awassa started with a chaotic bus station and then an uneventful six hour journey. As we neared Awassa, we passed a large bus on its side in the mud. The wreckage was being recovered and from the state of it, people must have been killed. From the way people drive here and the animals wandering across the roads, I wouldn’t want to do this journey too often. Besides, I don’t think my buttocks could handle it on a regular basis.