Another week without a telephone line. This time we were cut off for not paying our bill, even though we didn’t know a bill was due. Ah well, we are now back in communication with the rest of the world. The high point of the last week was attending the graduation ceremony for the final year Diploma students. The low point has been yet more illness: a common cold of all things. We both feel malnourished. I feel a need to pig out on food when we get home.

Graduation: a special day for the students and a tedious bum-numbing experience for the audience. I’m being overly cynical, but my tolerance for sitting in an uncomfortable chair for several hours is limited. The Diploma students graduated on Saturday after three years of study, and we were invited to attend as part of the college academic staff. The fun part was wearing full academic robes and hats. The gowns were exactly as you get at home, so were therefore inappropriately thick and heavy for a hot climate. The graduation ceremony was held in a large hall which is used as the local cinema, and we were told to assemble with the staff by 8.30am. When we received the programme the day before, we knew from experience that the timings were largely a work of fiction. Punctuality is widely talked about as a good idea everyone should practice, but rarely actually practiced. So, we hung around as staff slowly assembled before taking our seats for the ceremony to start at around 10.15am. The guest of honour was going to be the President of the Southern Nations, Nationalities and Peoples Region (SNNPR) and he turned out to be late. A student band entertained the audience while we slowly cooked in the hall. I was wearing a shirt-and-tie, suit jacket, thick gown and mortar board hat. I could feel the sweat soaking through my trousers. Just as the student with the best exam performance started making a speech on stage, all of the staff left the hall to receive the SNNPR President. So, the ceremony finally got underway and finished by 12.30. Outside there were the usual groups of family members jostling in the crowd to get photographs of the graduates. I found myself in the awkward situation of being literally grabbed by students who I have never met and being expected to pose with them for photos. In years to come I will be able to think about some people in Ethiopia with a photo of themselves, posed with a Ferenji they never knew wearing a fixed, polite and bemused smile on his face. We really appreciated being invited and treated as part of the staff, and I’m glad I’ve experienced graduation. The Certificate students (nearly 3000 of them) graduate in two weeks. Although we would be expected to attend, tragically we will be on our way to the UK for a break. I’ll be thinking of everybody slowly cooking in uncomfortable chairs, waiting for a distinguished guest who will inevitably be late. While I am being rained on in the UK I’ll also be thinking of the students, who deserve every minute of their day of excitement. They struggle hard for a basic education few people even have access to. That’s worth being cooked for several hours. I’m just glad I only have to do it once.

World Cup fever has hit Awassa. Even here, everybody is football mad and any café with a TV is packed out with Ethiopians cheering wildly about every goal. The African teams are supported by everyone, but ask an Ethiopian who they want to win the World Cup and they all say Brazil, with a few trying to be diplomatic and saying England. I’ve tried many times to explain the difference between Scotland, England and the UK, but with little success. I’m resigned to people outside of the UK thinking of me as English and that I should be very happy about England’s victories in the World Cup.