Ethiopia - Going out with "the boys"

Ermi's "boys" - from l to r: Salelewe, Ferke, me, Ermi (behind), Yonas, Koni, Zelalam and Terfe (now no longer with the boys, he says that there is something in him that will always make him a street boy and he left the house not long after this) - Dagam is missing from the photo - I don't know how, he's in just about every other one...

Taking up the story...

This morning is Friday here and it’s a school holiday as it’s one of the Muslim holy days. At the moment I am still in bed listening to the girls at prayers and once again I know I’m not anywhere near home. Prayer is sometimes silent, sometimes spoken aloud, and sometimes sung (in Amharic with an Arabic, Indian sound to it). As in many other parts of Africa it seems that everyone has a voice worth recording – all the girls together sound quite beautiful. The only music they listen to is gospel music unless on one of the two TV stations there is traditional song and dance – and that seems to be about 95% of the time.

The girls seem to be having different “devotions” this morning with lots more prayers. Every Wednesday and Friday is fasting until lunch and praying day for the adults of the organisation. On Wednesday they did that here while I worked on the computer. First of all a discussion about problems and issues with all the children and Bible readings – then praying for around an hour I thought it seemed, again with some spoken and singing too, but just this low rising and falling chant.

Ethiopian dancing has to be seen to be appreciated – it’s the most incredible shoulder movements – up and down and in and out – when I watch some of it it seems to me to be a miracle that shoulder dislocations aren’t the order of the day. I got to experience being in the middle of it last Sunday night. I took Koni and Ermi and Ermi’s “boys” out to dinner at a traditional Ethiopian restaurant – usually only for locals so once again we were the centre of attention.

The "boys" l to r: Yonas and Terfe in front, at the back Ferke, Salelewe, Ermi, Dagum, Zelalam and Sisye (one of an earlier group who lives at the house)

Ermi’s “boys” are not really boys. There are 6 of them, aged from 18-30 (estimated, lots of people don’t know their birthdays or ages here) and they are all young men who have, until a month ago, been homeless – in the terminology here – “street boys”. One of them has lived on the streets for as long as 13 years. So they don’t have education. I bought them all new shirts and Koni and I were escorted out by all the men and once again I’m treated as someone really loved and special. I took my point and shoot and we took a huge amount of photos. They were so excited they could hardly contain themselves and Ermi, Koni and I had our photos taken with all of them and they had all sorts of combinations taken too, as well as group photos.

Zelalam watching as the waitress pours traditional coffee

Ethiopian food doesn’t have a huge variety of dishes, at least that I’ve seen. Injera, made from a grain called tef (which has been fermented in some way), is served with every meal. It is made like a very large thin pancake and is quite flexible. It is rolled into a roll for serving, but then unrolled and used as the “plate” (sitting on a real plate, either dinner plate sized if you are eating singly, or when eating together as a huge plate in the middle, maybe more than half a metre across). All the sauces are spooned onto it, or bowls of meat placed next to it (on little coal burners). To eat you break off a piece of injera with your right hand, roll up some sauce and into the mouth. People feed each other, at least you feed people you really like or care about. You should take it without getting their fingers. (and no-one ever refuses to take it). So Dagam, who was sitting next to me, rolled up some sauce and I took it – meat of course to the great consternation off others. Everyone was yelling at the poor guy so I had to work hard to make them understand it was all right. Injera is a grey colour and sort of sour. I can eat some of it but not a lot.

Anyway, the only food for me at the whole restaurant was “cheese with butter” and one injera sauce. It’s also made from tef, so it’s like eating injera with injera. However, the cheese with butter was much better than I anticipated, it was like a cottage cheese and had some herbs in it as well. One of the adults, Simon, ate raw meat – that’s what the rich eat – slice off a piece and roll it in injera and go for it. I couldn’t even look. Coffee after the meal, in small cups without handles, so strong you could stand a spoon in it and no sugar for me – it had vanished by the time I got my coffee. Still, it’s all part of the experience!

Afterwards, Ermi grabbed me by the hand and said “Lyndah (what I’m called here) – come, dance” and we promptly gate-crashed a wedding. So we were in the middle of all the dancing, singing, ululating guests and I had to dance! I was introduced to someone (I think the father of the bride or groom) and had to dance with him. Along with gospel music only, there’s no dancing encouraged (although the girls do dance to the gospel music and practice the traditional stuff) so Ermi dancing too was considered a great joke by Koni and all the boys. He’s told the boys it’s OK if you’re dancing with a ferangi, otherwise – not allowed! Some of the guests were incredible with the shoulder stuff – I figure you must have to do it practically from birth to be able to manage it!

Some of the guests really knew how to shake their shoulders!

Ermi and I join the dancing with the man in the suit (I think he might have been the father of the bride or something, anyway I had to dance with him)

This week it’s been more English (back to basics of writing and pronunciation), storytelling at the library, writing funding proposal letters and finding agencies to send them to (have an appointment with UNICEF next week) and finalizing the budget for the library.

Next - going out with Ermi to the streets

Lots of love Lyndall