Adieu, Addis

I’m wondering where the time went. On Sunday, I will fly to Budapest for a week to visit JDC programs and then head home to complete the last few weeks of my fellowship in New York . I am often asked, “what will you do back in the real world?” Frankly, I don’t know. But, I’m sure it will be a lot easier to figure out with electricity and a hot shower.

Before focusing on the “next,” I am trying to savor my last week here in Addis. I plan to enjoy my last caramel macchiato at Kaldi’s Coffee, a knock-off of Starbucks down to the green aprons and tall frappacino. Last week, my brother Zach and sister-in-law Clare visited. We travelled to Bahir Dar on Lake Tana to the Blue Nile, the source of the Nile River . We ate too much injera, listened to Ethiopian jazz from the 1950’s and tried chewing chat. Chat is a natural, very mild and legal (yes, mom) stimulant. Grown locally and widely exported throughout African and the Arabian peninsula , it is purchased in bags that look like pre-washed mixed lettuce. During a typical chat ceremony, one chews the leaves into a pulp swallowing only the bitter juice over the course of several hours. Truthfully, it wasn’t worth the effort and the local St George brew is a better choice which Lonely Planet seconds.

We also visited the Yeka Terara Elementary School in Addis. JDC provided funds for the school to construct a new eight-room building, chairs/desks, blackboards, materials, clean water drinking taps and latrines. Before expansion, students were turned away, forced to attend schools outside their village area or were crowded into classes with up to 90 other students in either morning or afternoon shifts for grades 1-6. Now, students enjoy a full-day of school with just 50 students per class and attend through grade 8. We met with Yeka’s teachers and principle to gain insight into Ethiopia ’s educational system and understand the challenges they face, some of which are similar to our own.

We made a brief stop at the Mother Teresa Clinic too. I am pleased to report that Mohammed, the little boy I wrote about in an early entry, was successfully treated for Hodgkin’s Disease and finished his chemotherapy. He presented at the clinic with a disfiguring growth on his face the size of a bowling ball (he is 10 years old); today there is not trace of the tumor and he was busy playing soccer in the courtyard with his friends when we arrived. Sadly, though, another young patient was diagnosed with bone cancer and required a leg amputation. The surgery was performed under local anesthetic (general was not available) using a hand saw at the hospital where electricity went in-and-out during the procedure; a nurse sat nearby taking the boy’s blood pressure by hand every few minutes since there was no machine. The state of affairs from a medical perspective is one of the worst in the world. Ethiopia has 2,000 doctors in a country of nearly 80 million; that’s just one doctor for every 40,000 people.

Ethiopia changed my picture of the real world. So did Ukraine . Elderly Jews who are forced to choose between food and medicine and street children who bathe in the gutter are now memories of my real world. I hope I am able to find a way to make these experiences drive my everyday life at home and work. As Lionel Shriver wrote in her novel, the post birthday world, “some years thanksgiving arrives in the lowercase, in July.” When I return to New York later this summer, I will celebrate thanksgiving for this incredible opportunity that expanded the boundaries of my real world.