Hail Mary, Full of Grace...

MARCATO

For my lunch break Wednesday, I made a quick decision to join the Spaniards on their trip to the legendary Marcato. The Marcato was the first open air market in all of Africa and today is, I believe, the biggest. Historically it was set aside by the Italians as a district for the black people to sell things for each other. Seeing as how there are quite a few black people in Ethiopia and most of them need to buy or sell something at some point, the market grew into enormity. However, it's so gargantuan that it just looks like every other street with a few more people and a few more shops. It's not even worth taking pictures of. Unless you're Spanish. But then again if you're Spanish all you need for a photo op are some local people minding their own business. In typical fashion, the Spanish crowd was a spectacle. They counted their money by the hundreds out in the open after being warned not to repeatedly by the Ethiopian guide they were paying. They insisted on taking pictures of all the children who asked them for money. They even took pictures of the coffee bean vendors set up next to the vendor from whom they were buying coffee. I tried to tell them to at least photograph the person they were already paying, but it's impossible to get a word in when they are in their everyone-yelling-at-once element. They bought insense by the kilo and overpaid for clay coffee pots and other things they weren't able to fit in their suitcases. Three of the Spaniards left yesterday but were quickly replaced in the volunteer house by the lunatic British doctor, a late-20's American EMT, and Joe's friend Hide. Suddenly we are more men that women and less Spanish than not. It's about damn time.

CHEROKEE

There is an organization here based out of North Carolina called Cherokee. Apparently they are some sort of investment firm but they also own and operate some non-profits, one of which sends Americans here to teach English. One such teacher is a 23-year old named Scott who volunteers with us on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. On Wednesday night Abebe (nurse) and I went to the Cherokee house for dinner. The house is luxurious and comes equipped with a guard, two dogs, and an Ethiopian women who cooks every day. Wednesday was taco night. Hallelujah. Closer to burrito sized, I had three tacos, three chocolate chip muffins, two brownies, a cinnamon roll, and three pieces of apple cinnamon cake, all prepared by the Ethiopian cook. Abebe barely finished two tacos. If I wasn't so busy being satiated I would have been embarrassed by my American gluttony. Scott's roommates and fellow teachers were two fat Texans and a 23-year old married couple also from somewhere in the South, strengthening my belief that the only people who get married before 25 are religious, military, or both. Scott, who is clearly the coolest and the nicest of the bunch, paid his taxi driver friend to drive Abebe and I all the way home. It was an enjoyable evening.

...THE LORD IS WITH YOU

On Thursday evening I went to Adoration at the compound chapel. It was boring as sin. I couldn't tell what the nuns were saying because they sounded like they didn't give a damn about it. They droned on for an hour and a half in a tone not quite energetic enough to be eery. I was hoping that as my first church service since.............................................................................................................. it would at least be educational, but all I learned was that Mary is only blessed among women so I am not required to care and that the chapel carpeting has fleas. The next morning, because it was the last for the three Spaniards and because they promised to sing something, I woke up early for the 6:30 mass. Mass is also sinfully boring. The sisters are awful, uninspired singers and so were the volunteers. I figured as long as I was there I might as well take communion, so at least I got some free breakfast out of it.

A BERG'S EYE VIEW

- Religion is boring as hell. I can't blame radicals for needing to spice it up a little.
- I saw my first Ethiopian fat kid in Piazza the other day. He must have been rich.
- There are apparently some affluent Ethiopians living at the compound and milking the system for free treatment.
- The traditional Ethiopian tea tastes like Christmas. I make sure to have at least one small cup of Christmas every day.
- Not every patient prefers the white foreigner...
- Naor is actually not timid at all, he's just a little sheltered. He's really nice and pleasant to be around because everything is new and exciting for him. I'm envious of the amusement he draws from every little thing here, but I wish he would stop coming up to me in bed every morning to say "you're not going to eat breakfast?" I will eat breakfast when I'm good and ready, Naor.
- Marco and Carlos (French and Spanish) are almost certainly a gay couple. And both of their hands shake uncontrollably.
- Many volunteers smoke freely outside the volunteer house, despite the two notices inside the house asking that people refrain from smoking anywhere inside the compound.
- When I leave I will regret not getting a chance to see the sights outside of the city.
- The closer I am to the compound, the more comments I get about being a foreigner. People should be used to all the volunteer whiteys by now.