Dancing, St. George, Ice Cream
Nothing too crazy has happened as of late, but a few small incidences are certainly noteworthy. On Monday night, Stuart and I went out for a few drinks with Bella and Naomi - Both are from Scotland, Bella is finishing her gap year before starting medical university, Naomi is visiting Bella. We started at a hotel bar beside the Taitu, the only people in the restaurant/bar. After a few drinks we moved to a literal hole in the wall I had found last year (for those who were
reading last summer, this was the bar where i met the taxi driver who spent an hour trying to convince me he was jewish). This bar should be called the diamond in the rough (except for their expensive beers! 6 birrh/beer~60 cents). It was the most "authentic" ethiopian experience I've had thus far. By that I mean, it was the first time I was able to mingle with the local people in their haunts, simply as another bar-goer and not some strange faranji. This bar is about 30' X 60' with ~50 locals dancing to Ethiopian pop music. We saddled up at a table along the wall and spent the next 90 minutes watching the people shake, rattle, and roll as though their lives depended on it. To appreciate the spectacle, one must first understand ethiopian dancing. Chubs (Happy Gilmore's one-handed golf coach) said, "It's all in the hips;" as for Ethiopian dancing, Sar
says, "It's all in the shoulders." Each song is 7+ minutes so I had ample opportunity to observe unbroken stretches of the men thrusting their shoulders back while they bobbed side-to-side. The hips and legs bend up and down, but the 'art' of the dance is in the shoulders. It was a hot, sweaty, mess and absolutely fantastic. On our way out the door, Bella said we weren't leaving without a dance, meaning we were stuck for the next 20 minutes doing our best impression of their traditional dances. Apparently my shoulder thrusting was up to par as the guy beside me told me I dance like the people from Tigre...Thank you? but I took it as a compliment and kept breaking it down as best as I know how. Truly a memorable night and one that will hopefully be
repeated soon.
Tuesday was open clinic at the mission so we had more patients than usual but nothing too crazy. After work, Stuart, Tom and I walked back to the Taitu and then caught a minibus to Mexico. An area in the southwest of the city, we don't know why it is called Mexico, maybe something about Haile Selassie's visit there, but it is similar to most other areas of the city. We quickly found the St. George factory (St. George is the local beer), which was our intended destination, and sat down for a cold brew at the bar next door. The only word to describe it would be refreshing and delicious, but we quickly found that the establishment was not as hospitable as we would have liked. They charged the local man beside us 3 birrh for a beer, then literally turned around and tried charging us 6....I don't think so mister. Yes, we are splitting hairs here, but it's the principle of the matter. We negotiated it down to 4, vowed never to return (probably a false vow) and walked out the door. The rest of Tuesday was rather uneventful, just lots of wandering around the city, getting lost, finding our way, and resting in cafes when the rains came. And so we get to Wednesday. I have seen some unforgettable things while working at the mission - tumors the size of grapefruit, entire legs without skin, wounds where the face should be, and more - and today I have another image to add.
WARNING - GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION FOLLOWS.
The last patient we saw was a resident of the mission but I had never seen him before. He came in a wheelchair with a now-soaked bandage covering from his mid-thigh to his ankle. When the bandage came off, I was sitting front row in anatomy class. Dr. Solomon (the orthopaedic surgeon who comes every saturday) had allegedly cut off the dead skin leaving this man with an open wound covering most of his leg. The tibia and femur needed no explanation and the calf and other muscles covered everything else. His dead, diseased skin literally fell off the wound and he shook as he glanced down at what used to be his leg. The best we can hope for is that Dr. Solomon amputates his leg soon. That would be the best possible outcome as of right now.
The ice cream part of the day (see title of post) came after lunch when our faranji group went to Blue Tops - an awesome italian place frequented by white folk - for an ice cream cone. It was delicious. The afternoon has been filled with macchiatos, reading in cafes while the rain pounded the streets outside, and now, internet. Hope everyone is doing well and enjoying the blog - if you have any questions/comments, you can leave them at the bottom of each post and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.
reading last summer, this was the bar where i met the taxi driver who spent an hour trying to convince me he was jewish). This bar should be called the diamond in the rough (except for their expensive beers! 6 birrh/beer~60 cents). It was the most "authentic" ethiopian experience I've had thus far. By that I mean, it was the first time I was able to mingle with the local people in their haunts, simply as another bar-goer and not some strange faranji. This bar is about 30' X 60' with ~50 locals dancing to Ethiopian pop music. We saddled up at a table along the wall and spent the next 90 minutes watching the people shake, rattle, and roll as though their lives depended on it. To appreciate the spectacle, one must first understand ethiopian dancing. Chubs (Happy Gilmore's one-handed golf coach) said, "It's all in the hips;" as for Ethiopian dancing, Sar
says, "It's all in the shoulders." Each song is 7+ minutes so I had ample opportunity to observe unbroken stretches of the men thrusting their shoulders back while they bobbed side-to-side. The hips and legs bend up and down, but the 'art' of the dance is in the shoulders. It was a hot, sweaty, mess and absolutely fantastic. On our way out the door, Bella said we weren't leaving without a dance, meaning we were stuck for the next 20 minutes doing our best impression of their traditional dances. Apparently my shoulder thrusting was up to par as the guy beside me told me I dance like the people from Tigre...Thank you? but I took it as a compliment and kept breaking it down as best as I know how. Truly a memorable night and one that will hopefully be
repeated soon.
Tuesday was open clinic at the mission so we had more patients than usual but nothing too crazy. After work, Stuart, Tom and I walked back to the Taitu and then caught a minibus to Mexico. An area in the southwest of the city, we don't know why it is called Mexico, maybe something about Haile Selassie's visit there, but it is similar to most other areas of the city. We quickly found the St. George factory (St. George is the local beer), which was our intended destination, and sat down for a cold brew at the bar next door. The only word to describe it would be refreshing and delicious, but we quickly found that the establishment was not as hospitable as we would have liked. They charged the local man beside us 3 birrh for a beer, then literally turned around and tried charging us 6....I don't think so mister. Yes, we are splitting hairs here, but it's the principle of the matter. We negotiated it down to 4, vowed never to return (probably a false vow) and walked out the door. The rest of Tuesday was rather uneventful, just lots of wandering around the city, getting lost, finding our way, and resting in cafes when the rains came. And so we get to Wednesday. I have seen some unforgettable things while working at the mission - tumors the size of grapefruit, entire legs without skin, wounds where the face should be, and more - and today I have another image to add.
WARNING - GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION FOLLOWS.
The last patient we saw was a resident of the mission but I had never seen him before. He came in a wheelchair with a now-soaked bandage covering from his mid-thigh to his ankle. When the bandage came off, I was sitting front row in anatomy class. Dr. Solomon (the orthopaedic surgeon who comes every saturday) had allegedly cut off the dead skin leaving this man with an open wound covering most of his leg. The tibia and femur needed no explanation and the calf and other muscles covered everything else. His dead, diseased skin literally fell off the wound and he shook as he glanced down at what used to be his leg. The best we can hope for is that Dr. Solomon amputates his leg soon. That would be the best possible outcome as of right now.
The ice cream part of the day (see title of post) came after lunch when our faranji group went to Blue Tops - an awesome italian place frequented by white folk - for an ice cream cone. It was delicious. The afternoon has been filled with macchiatos, reading in cafes while the rain pounded the streets outside, and now, internet. Hope everyone is doing well and enjoying the blog - if you have any questions/comments, you can leave them at the bottom of each post and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.
Signing off,
Your man southeast of the Sudan
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