Every Day is Sunday

About 700 years ago, King Lalibela of Ethiopia made the pilgrimage from his hometown to Jerusalem with a bunch of his Orthodox Christian buddies.  Unfortunately, the Muslims (who captured Jerusalem in the late 12th century) made the journey difficult for the pilgrims.  So he did what any enterprising young King would do: he built his own Jerusalem.

King Lailibela built replicas of tombs found in Jerusalem, built churches in the style of old Jerusalem churches, and named everything in the town after some structure he saw in Jerusalem.  Even the town’s river named after the River Jordan.  Holy doppelganger!

What makes the churches at Lalibela so amazing is that they were all carved out of rock.  It’s so unbelievable its worth repeating: entire churches were carved out of a SINGLE block of rock.  They weren’t so much constructed – they were EXCAVATED from the top down.

Incredible doesn’t really cover it – the churches seem otherworldly in scale, workmanship and concept.  Stonehenge eat your heart out. 

The most impressive of the 11 rock-hewn churches is the church of St. George.  The structure was cut 40 feet underground, yet the roof is a precision piece of architecture in the shape of a Greek cross. 

Lalibela only recently got electricity, has few cars, no gas stations, and no paved streets.  Everyone is dressed in white and women cover their heads. Much like Muslims, these orthodox Christians, have calls to prayer several times a day. Walking around Lalibela, we felt as though we had been transported back to biblical times.

Locals gathering for prayer

When I was leaving the ONE Campaign (to work for an NGO in Nigeria), Erin told me about this crazy plan she and Jeff had to spend a year traveling the world, while seeing the poverty-fighting work we’d been advocating for at ONE.  Since it was still a distant plan, I wondered if they would be able to pull it off.  It’s not easy to pick up and leave the country.

Well, the dream is being realized and it’s really awesome.  And I was lucky enough to be along their path to adventure, travel and greatness.  A friend back in the States was just telling me about a wedding in which the couple pledged to live their lives like they’re always on vacation – they “will promise to help each other live lives that are sort of like being on vacation—all the time.   Lives where absolutely everything is worthy of notice.  Lives where mundane things are exciting, and questions get asked. “  Now this is Erin and Jeff’s lives and I cannot imagine a much more inspiring way of living.

Since I am a guest, I suppose I should introduce myself.  I’m Anne.  I’m an Aries from Nebraska.  I worked with Erin at ONE.  And now I live in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, and work at the Clinton Foundation HIV/AIDS Initiative in Pediatrics. 

Erin and Jeff were planning on coming to Ethiopia before I was, so they were immediately scheduled as my first visitors and I started counting down the days until I had friends in town about a week into my time here.

One of the things I was most excited to introduce Erin and Jeff to in Addis was the Artists for Charity Children’s Home (artistsforcharity.org), which houses 16 HIV+ orphans in one of the best communities I’ve ever experienced.  More than anything in Addis, this home gives me hope and I wanted to share that with Erin and Jeff.  So, I gave them a map and my friend (the home’s founder)’s phone number and sent them via minibus to experience it.   

For story time, Jeff told the best rendition of the Tinchel and the Enshilalit (in English, the Tortoise and the Hare) that I’ve ever heard (favorite part, the rabbit drinking too much carrot juice).  The kids loved it.

Little did Jeff know, the following weekend, Erin, the kids, and I were planning him his 62nd birthday party (yes, a few kids guessed that he was 62).  We got Cokes, Fanta and cake for everyone.  Before we arrived, the kids had made hilarious cards for Jeff – most included pictures of princesses or declarations of love.  There may not have been electricity, but I hope it was a memorable birthday party. 

In addition to Erin and Jeff helping out with the kids, I wanted to at least show them a good time.  If you want to find a good friends and a dance party, Addis is the place to go.  We started off at Champions, where my cheese toast mysteriously disappeared.  After talking a lot of smack, Jeff and Alif battled it out in a push up contest (not for my cheese toast, although I wish they would have). 

The night wouldn’t be complete without some music and dancing, so we went to Alize, a fantastic jazz club and then Illusion for some late night dancing.  The pictures demonstrate it better than words, but it was ridiculously fun.

Needless to say, I was grateful to be part of the adventure of Erin and Jeff.  They kept talking about a jaunt to the South and after a little effective lobbying, I was convinced to skip out on work and join them.  More to come…

It all started on a bungee cord in New Zealand.   We were in the south of New Zealand on our honeymoon when we decided to go bungee-jumping in a canyon.  When it was Jeff’s turn to take the plunge, he jumped off the ledge without any hesitation.  The problem was he changed his mind about half way down.  Screaming bloody murder and grabbing for the rope was not exactly how he pictured his first bungee jump.

Upset with his first jump, he quickly climbed the canyon for a second jump — this time he was going to do it right.  But the Kiwi running the jump had other ideas and decided to play a joke on him.  The operator pretended to forget how to fasten the straps, and just as Jeff was about to jump off the ledge, the operator said “Oops.”  This time Jeff REALLY thought he was going to die.  After two jumps the whole experience was a bit of a let down.

Fast forward three years.  We’re in a town in Uganda called Jinja to do some white-water rafting.  We signed on with a company called “Adrift” (in spite of its ominous name) to take us rafting down the Nile river.   Our rafting guide, a guy from McLean Virginia named Rooster, took us through some pretty gnarly Class 4 and Class 5 rapids.

After rafting we went to grab beers at a bar on the banks of the Nile.  The main attraction at the bar was watching the people jump off the bungee platform next door.  As if white-water rafting were not enough excitement for the day…

Bungee Platform Overlooking the Nile River

Jeff was determined to avenge his New Zealand experience.  He walked to the edge, took a deep breath, and made a perfect swan dive off the ledge.  It was glorious and sweet revenge.

Jeff didn’t have much time to gloat about his jump, because he was quickly outdone by the next jumper….a woman who jumped NAKED.  After stripping off her clothes, she stood on the platform for awhile egging on the crowd.  Needless to say, everyone at the bar gave her a perfect score. 

If Kampala were a cocktail, it would be one part chaos, two parts madness, and a twist of excitement.  From the suicidal motorbikers weaving in and out of traffic, to the all-night markets selling everything from calculators to crocodile hide, the pace of the city took us by surprise. 

The first thing we noticed about Kampala was the traffic.  The taxis get so close to each other that pedestrians can barely navigate between the cars.     

And if there is any room between the cars, it is immediately filled by motorbikes carrying passengers.  Of all the jobs that exist in the world, traffic cop in Kampala might just be the absolute worst. 

It was difficult to get around Kampala, but we always had fun once we reached our destination.  We spent one night out at the “Obligato” nightclub where we were entertained by a 14-piece band. 

Just off the crazed streets of Kampala is a great little outdoor café. We feasted on delicious steak and drank crappy East African wine.  Bet you didn’t know they made wine in East Africa…there’s a good reason for that. To help calm the chaotic atmosphere the owner blasted Enya into the street. It actually worked. We had a great candlelight dinner as crazy motobikes were drowned out by the peaceful sounds of the Watermark album. The only trouble we had was leaving — the owner wouldn’t let us go until we promised to buy a copy of his recipe book, “Go Ahead, Make My Curry.”

But the main reason for our trip to Kampala was to visit a women’s empowerment project.  For decades, Ugandan women have been making jewelry out of recycled paper.   

It's Paper!

 Bead for Life is a unique program that draws on this existing skill to empower women without giving them hand-outs.  Bead buys the beautiful jewelry from the women for a fair price so that they can afford to buy food, medicine and school supplies for their children.  In a country with rampant unemployment, this is one of the few sources of income available for most women.

We stopped by the headquarters on market day when the women bring their beads for sale.  The first step is “quality control” where Bead makes sure that the beads are in good condition.   

We also visited the bead for life warehouse where they store all of the beads they’ve bought from the women.   Bead for Life then takes the jewelry and sells it overseas.  Any net profits from the overseas sale of beads are invested in community development projects that help people work their way out of poverty.

On the day we were visiting, Bead for Life was offering a free seminar on basic business tactics. 

The instructor was doling out some pretty ruthless advice.  “Study your competitor,” she told the assembled group, “and turn their weaknesses into your strengths.”  Donald Trump would be proud.

The women ended the session with a song and some dancing…so we had to join the celebration. . .  

One of the most impressive programs in a housing initiative.  Bead has set up a “Friendship Village” and they offer mortgages at reasonable rates to women who need a place to live.  Using the money they made from selling beads, the women can make a down payment on a home and continue to make mortgage payments using the proceeds of the bead jewelry. So far 134 women have participated in the project. The impact recycled paper beads is having on this community of woman-headed households can inspire the staunchest of development cynics.

We’ve had some interesting travel days so far on this trip: the visual landing on a gravel runway in Antarctica, the trolley ride over the old aqueduct in Rio, and the ride on Air Force One through Tanzania.  But our best travel day so far is the day we crossed the equator.

It started in a dugout canoe.  Just as Ugandans have been doing for centuries, we paddled across Lake Bunyonyi in an old hallowed-out tree.

We arrived on the banks of the lake and walked to the market to catch a taxi to Kabale.  We found a taxi that already had eight people in it, but the driver insisted he could make room for us in his 4-door Nissan Sentra.  The driver slowly and carefully opened the trunk to make sure not to startle the two live chickens who were resting quietly on the spare tire.  We put our bags in the trunk next to the chickens and both climbed into the passenger seat (Erin on Jeff’s lap).  We were pretty uncomfortable in the front seat with two in the passenger seat, the driver, and a fourth guy was straddling the stick shift…which made shifting the car into gear awkward for everyone involved. 

But at least we weren’t as uncomfortable as the six strangers piled on top of each other and wedged into the back seat.  The ten of us must have looked like a circus act climbing out car when we got to the bus station.   

The taxi pulled into the station just in time for us to catch the 8 hour bus to Kampala.  There was only one seat left on the bus, but we managed to squeeze both of us into the last row.  There were five people in the last row but only four seats, so we got very familiar with our fellow passengers. 

Erin was in the midst of explaining her thoughts on the existence of god to the Ugandan potato farmer sitting next to her when we crossed the equator.  Welcome back to the Northern hemisphere!

It was dark by the time we saw the sign that Kampala was only 50 km away.  But before we even had a chance to calculate how many miles are in 50 km, the bus rolled to a stop.  At first we didn’t think much of it – it was common for the bus to stop at the side of the road for a bathroom break.  After about ten minutes we started to guess that something was wrong.  The bus had run out of gas. 

Sitting in the dark on the side of the road in Uganda, we cursed the driver for ignoring the 100+ gas stations we passed since leaving Kabale seven hours earlier.  Just then, a minivan pulled up and offered rides (for a fee) to the stranded passengers.  We jumped at the chance.  Erin went to the van to save two seats and left Jeff to gather the luggage.  Unfortunately our bags were in the locked compartments underneath the bus, and the bus driver had abandoned the bus to look for gas. 

It looked hopeless until Jeff noticed that the driver had left the car keys in the ignition.  Jeff climbed into the driver’s compartment, grabbed the keys out of the ignition, and used them to unlock the baggage compartment.  Half the bus was pointing and commenting on the “crazy muzungu” as Jeff climbed back into the driver’s seat to return the key. 

With our bags resting in our laps, we continued our journey in the minivan.  As entered the Kampala city limits, we couldn’t believe how busy it was.  Traffic was intense and all we could hear was the sound of people laying on the horns.  It was nearly midnight and the streets were lined with people selling household goods by candlelight.  Kampala was definitely the liveliest city we’d visited in a while. 

When the minivan stopped and people started getting out, we had no idea where we were.  Thankfully, Erin’s new friend (the potato farmer) was also on the minivan and he helped us get our bearings and find a taxi.  Although our second taxi of the day was also a 4-door Nissan Sentra, this time there were only the three of us.  We arrived at our hostel in Kampala just as the roosters started to crow and quickly fell into a deep and well-deserved sleep.

Because the Byoona Amagara Camp is on an island in the middle of Lake Bunyonyi, the only way to get there is by boat.  We hired a local boy named Justice to take us across the lake in his dugout canoe.  Captain Justice’s hollowed-out tree trunk was just big enough to fit three people and all of our gear.

The first ten minutes were great as we all paddled together and moved at a pretty good clip.  But soon our arms and shoulders started to burn.  We sweated  through the next forty minutes as we slowly made our way across the huge lake.  Justice, a skinny 12-year old who couldn’t have weighed more than 100 pounds, kept a steady stroke and never broke a sweat as we cursed ourselves for not being in better shape.  At times we wondered if we were actually helping or just pushing Justice off course.    

Captain Justice

The long canoe ride was worth it.  We arrived to find a quant campsite on a beautiful lake nestled in the rolling hills of the Ugandan countryside.  We spent three amazing nights in an exposed geodome perched high on the hill with a view of the lake.

View from our bed at Amarga Camp

Eco-friendly and self-sufficient, the camp was completely powered by solar energy.  The sun’s rays powered the water pump (which provided running water from the lake) and the lights for the common areas.  At check-in they warned us that if was a cloudy day, the camp might not have enough energy to power the lights or the water pump.

The staff needed an hour lead time to prepare a shower.  They drew the water from the lake using the pump, heated it over a fire, and then transferred it to a gerrycan and placed it on the roof of an outdoor shower.  We loved the simple luxury of showering outside as the sun set over the lake. 

There wasn’t much to do on the island but take in the beautiful sunsets and hang out with our new friends Adam and Genevieve.  We lounged, drank wine, listened to music, stumped their little magic “20 Questions” machine, and tried to come up with a name for their unborn child (Gen was 4 months pregnant).  At the time, the front runner name was Max, although Erin’s suggestion of Byron was a big hit.  When the 20 Questions ball tried to guess the name of Ad and Gen’s unborn child, it came up with Infinity, which Jeff insisted would be a perfect girl’s name if the sonogram was wrong.

Adam and Gen’s experiences in Uganda taught us a lot about some of the downsides of international aid.  They had volunteered for an organization that was supposed to support micro-finance initiatives, but they quit after discovering that the organization was saying one thing on its website and doing another thing on the ground.  The website was full of stories about local Ugandans who needed money for agriculture and small business projects, and requests for donations to help these people get interest-free or reduced rate loans.  But instead of giving the donated money directly to the Ugandans listed on the website, the organization was giving the money to local banks.  These banks received the money with no strings attached, which meant they could lend the money to whomever they wanted at whatever rates they wanted.  In their region in Uganda, Adam and Gen observed that bank officers and their families were getting great rates on loans while the local Ugandans (some who appeared on the website) were paying market interest rates and not benefitting at all from the program.

Although the website says that all borrowers receive business training, Adam and Gen found that most had not received any training and were mismanaging their loans.  Adam tried to initiate a simple business training program, but the organization instructed him not to provide any training but simply spend his time gathering as many “success stories” as he could for publication on the website. 

Adam and Gen reached out to the managers of the fellowship program to let them know what was going on, but the managers didn’t do anything.  Worse, they told Adam and Gen not to say or do anything that might bring negative publicity to the program.  The sad thing was that every other person they talked to within the organization had similar experiences, but being a bit younger and straight out of college, they didn’t want to rock the boat - so Adam and Gen came across as holding the minority view even though they were in the majority.

Adam and Gen felt like they had no choice but to quit immediately.  Despite this experience, they didn’t give up on fighting poverty.  They plan to continue living in Uganda and start their own community-based program to benefit local Ugandans.  We learned two important lessons during our time at Amarga: sometimes aid can become its own industry in which collecting money becomes the top priority, but individuals can and should keep trying to make a difference. 

The Democratic Republic of Congo doesn’t get a lot of tourists – and for good reason.  More than 5 million people have died in the DRC since 1998 as a result of war and other armed struggles.  As if that weren’t bad enough, the DRC serves as a haven for some of the most dangerous groups in East Africa – both the Hutu rebel groups from Rwanda and Uganda’s Lord’s Resistance Army are hiding in the DRC.  Because of the conflict and lack of tourism, we’ve heard fellow travelers refer to the DRC as the “last frontier.”

DRC may be a conflict area, but the city of Goma is a safe place to visit thanks to a large and very visible U.N. peacekeeping mission.  It seemed like more than half of all vehicles on the road in Goma were U.N. vehicles.

It wasn’t just our sense of adventure that lured us to the DRC.  We went to visit HEAL, a U.S.-based organization that supports a holistic care hospital in Goma.

Crossing into the DRC can be a little tricky.  Sometimes the process can take hours.  Other times DRC immigration officers will demand that you to leave your passport at the immigration office for the duration of your stay.  We were warned by some HEAL employees to not leave our passports at the immigration office under any circumstances.  We noticed a few people being hassled at the border, but we crossed without issue.

The first thing we noticed was how swiftly the chaos of the DRC overtook the orderliness of Rwanda.  Paved roads turned into dirt.  Nobody observed the rules of the road because there were no rules.  Just steps from the border, men holding huge stacks of money made black market currency exchanges by the side of the road. 

Just past the black currency market, we found the HEAL hospital.   

The hospital treats both men and women, but the majority of HEAL patients were victims of domestic violence or rape.  Like many in the Congo, the rape victims at HEAL were ostracized by their communities and forced to leave their villages.  It was difficult to see the emotion and physical pain in their eyes.  But HEAL has set up an impressive holistic program to help get these women back on their feet.  Not only does HEAL provide medical care, but also enrolls the women in a program to teach them sewing and other seamstress skills.   The program gives them a chance to become self-sufficient and the ability to live on their own.

We stopped into the Arts center to do some shopping.  We couldn’t leave without buying one of their beautiful handbags.

As we toured the grounds, we learned that HEAL owes part of its success to its local Congolese administrators and staff.   By hiring Congolese and paying local salaries instead of western salaries, HEAL keeps their overhead costs low and can direct more money to provide actual health care.  The time we spent at HEAL confirmed our belief that hiring local staff to run aid programs is one of the best ways to ensure the sustainability of an aid program.

On our way out of the Congo, we stopped off for a beer on the banks of Lake Kivu.  It was a thrill to visit the DRC, but it wasn’t until we were leaving that we were finally able to relax our nerves and enjoy the natural beauty of the “last frontier”.

Feeling a bit road-weary, we took the bus to beautiful Gisenyi for a little R&R.  Rwandans come to Gisenyi for its stunning views of Lake Kivu, a large freshwater lake that borders both Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo. 

There isn’t much to do in Gisenyi, it’s more of a make-your-own-fun kind of place.  The local kids were doing a great job of entertaining themselves (and us) by jumping off the pier and showing off their impressive acrobatic skills.

We spent three glorious days in Gisenyi resting and gearing up for our most perilous visit yet: the Democratic Republic of Congo.

The number 13 has always been our lucky number.  We went on our first date on January 13, our condo was purchased on April 13, our honeymoon began on August 13, and we live in apartment 713.  When they told us that we’d be visiting a family of Mountain Gorillas called “The 13,” we knew that luck was on our side.

Mountain gorillas may be huge and powerful creatures (the males are between 5-6 feet tall when upright and between 300 and 450 pounds), but they are also docile, social creatures.  Sadly, poaching and habitat loss have decimated the species, and the world’s remaining mountain gorillas now live only within national parks in Rwanda, Uganda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

Just like Dian Fossey, we set out for Volcanoes National Park in Rwanda to spend some QT with the gorillas.  With our guide leading the way, we trekked deep into the dense forest.  It had rained for the previous two days leaving deep pockets of mud.  We both fell knee-deep into the mud at one point along the way.  After three grueling hours, we reached the family of gorillas known as “13”  -  there were 27 of them - including 12 baby gorillas.  It was love at first sight.  It was easy to see why Sigourney Weaver Dian Fossey chose to live among these amazing creatures.

The most impressive gorilla we saw was an adult male “Silverback,” which are known for the distinctive silver-colored hair on their back.  The oldest Silverback is the leader of a mountain gorilla family — he decides when his family wakes up, eats, moves and rests for the night. Because he must protect his family at all times, the Silverback tends to be the most aggressive.  We were warned more than once to stay clear of the silverback.  Without provocation, the mighty Silverback started moving awfully close to Erin and the rest of our group.  The look on her face was a mix of excitement, surprise and terror.  

Safely away from the Silverback we admired the little guys.  Seriously, how cute are they?!?! 

When we were kids we used to play on jungle-gyms.  But nothing we saw in any schoolyard compared to the true jungle-gym we saw on this day.  We saw little gorillas beating on their chests, hanging from branches, hiding in bushes, rolling around, and falling from trees. It was wildly playful. One little guy, Gukina, grabbed hold of a vine dangling from a from a tree and started to spin. Just like a little kid on a tire swing, he spun around faster and faster the more we were encouraged him.  We were lucky enought to catch our favorite spinning gorilla on tape: 

When our guide announced that our hour with the gorillas was up, we couldn’t believe it.  They were so playful and so fun that 60 minutes seemed like 5.  But on our long trek back we could not help but smile — it was an incredible experience hanging out with one of our closest relatives in the animal kingdom.

Kigali may be an orderly city, but Rwanda is still a very poor country that suffers from the same health and education problems that plague other parts of Africa.  To learn more, we hooked up with Access, a U.S.-based organization that monitors, evaluates and assists health centers in rural areas.

We spent the day with Dr. Blaise, a medical doctor before becoming an Access administrator, who took us to visit a health center in the Musanze district.  We toured the facility and learned a lot about the standard of care available in rural Rwanda.  Our visit coincided with “immunization day,” a program in which mothers could bring their infants to the health center for free immunization shots.  Erin couldn’t help but be distracted by all the super-cute babies.

In addition to inoculations, the health center weighed and measured all the infants in order to begin charting their growth and development.    

 Over the course of the day, we discussed how worldwide nearly 10 million children under five die each year from preventable causes such as malnutrition, pneumonia, diarrhea and malaria. Although modern medicine can cure all of these illnesses, many people cannot get treatment because they lack of access to quality care.  In Rwanda, we saw firsthand that there is a real shortage of health care workers, basic equipment, and infrastructure. 

The purpose of Dr. Blaise’s visit was to meet with CHIPS (another U.S.-based NGO) about the status of the health center.  Nine months earlier, the mayor of the Musanze district had asked CHIPS to come in and help revamp the troubled health center.  Dr. Blaise’s organization had just completed a survey of the health center, and the two organizations were meeting to discuss the results of the survey.

We were invited to join the meeting between Access and CHIPS.  It was fascinating to observe the two groups engage in frank discussions about the challenges they face on the ground.  We were impressed to learn how much progress CHIPS had made in the last nine months.  They had built two new structures and installed tile in the operating rooms and recovery rooms (formerly they were dried mud floors). 

Before CHIPS took over the health center had such a terrible reputation that villagers avoided the center even when they were sick or dying.  The collaboration between Access and CHIPS resulted in new infrastructure and a health program that strengthened access to care. We heard firsthand about the positive impact the center had on prenatal care — there was a marked decrease in the number of infant and maternal deaths in the previous six months.

After visiting the health center, we went for walk and saw some kids playing soccer in a field.  They invited us to join them, and so we kicked around the ball for a while and talked about what life was like in Rwanda. 

Since it was Tuesday morning, we asked why they weren’t in school.  They told us that kids only go to school for ½ day and they are in the afternoon session.  Apparently there aren’t enough classrooms or teachers for the kids to attend a full day of classes.  It was heartbreaking to learn that these kids only get about 4 hours of school instruction per day, 5 days a week.   

Our conversation with the kids reminded us of something Dr. Blaise said during our visit to the health center: Rwanda’s major asset is its people.  Without vast natural resources or large quantities of arable land, the Rwandan government has invested in infrastructure projects like broad-band internet to provide opportunities for its people.  We left hoping that the Rwandan government will also make rural education a priority so that these kids can help pull themselves up and improve their lives.