Wednesdays seem to come around really quickly when Y’Tesfa Birhan takes place after school. We regularly get around 23 of the 25 girls attending each week. I usually greet the girls at the gate and direct them to the guards who search their bags and place them safely until they leave.
We have been staying about an hour and a half out of Addis beside a crater lake for a long weekend. School was closed Friday to enable staff to rest and recuperate. As I floated across the lake in a canoe yesterday, I can highly recommend it; basic facilities notwithstanding. It is a great opportunity to chat to colleagues about something other than work too which can’t be bad.
Three days’ rest with a bunch of teachers and their families at the SIM lakeside retreat of Babogaya should have been a break from work. Most of the time it was. Except for Saturday afternoon. Whilst hovering my quadcopter over the tennis court videoing a few of the youngsters playing a form of the game quite hard to identify, I was told someone had fallen down the stairs and knocked themselves out and could I please come?
As we arrived at the station I realised I had forgotten my glasses. Mum had to rush home to get them before the train due to carry me to London and, more importantly, to my first ever “date” with Chris, departed.
This week we had an ‘Ethiopian Day’. This involved dressing in traditional dress, and learning an Ethiopian playground game. A variation on hop scotch is played here called ‘Senoe, Macsenoe’ (Monday, Tuesday). The game is based on the days of the week, but not Sunday – as that was the day God rested during creation.
Just a normal week, teaching at two schools, two Amharic lessons, a couple trips to the Gym, two lots of friends round for meals, Y’tesfa Birhan (the local girls group), a local meal out with colleagues, marshalling at a cross country meet, a bazaar and church.
Except that…
Just a normal week: consulting in the clinic every day, a busy clinic at Bingham Wednesday morning, two hours of Amharic lessons, two trips to the gym, meals with friends, Skyping with several family members, going to Church, and visiting a bazaar.
Except that…
There is a collection of government officials whose job it is to visit institutions like ours, add a code to random items and record these on paper.
In the UK…
After I returned from a short four-day trip to the UK in March 2015 I wrote a blog post (see “Consequences”) lamenting the fact that as I no longer have a “licence to practise” medicine in the UK (although I am still a registered doctor) I was unable to purchase a few prescription medications to bring here with me that are not available in Ethiopia. Basically any registered UK doctor working overseas is unable to get the appraisals and revalidation done that’s demanded by the General Medical Council (GMC) to have their “licence to practise” in the UK renewed. The GMC told me to surrender mine in May 2014. Without it I cannot see or treat patients in the UK.
Our guide in the astonishing town of Lalibela had promised us a free African massage, and we were now getting it. Bouncing along a rough partially made road in a Toyota van I felt, well, massaged. Chris next to me; Beth and Paul behind, the arid countryside of parched grey earth, scattered acacia trees and primitive farming rushed by backed by truly spectacular mountain scenery.