It was a damp drizzly Sunday afternoon, the day before Ethiopian New Year’s Day. Naomi (a teacher at Bingham) phoned to say that as she was unwell could myself and Amanda (a new teacher this year) deliver the “doro wat” (a special celebratory chicken dish) that her house worker had prepared to four of the neediest Y’tesfa Birhan girl’s families.

Our first challenge was to remove the tins of “wat” from the freezer where they had been stored. They had become adhered by ice to the base of a deep chest freezer. A kettle of boiling water, a spatula and mostly brute force provided by Naomi’s husband, and the tins were freed.

We set off in Amanda’s old saloon car. I vaguely knew the way, although I didn’t know where we would need to negotiate serious ruts in the road surface. Fortunately, there was only one major event where the old tyres grumbled, spun and slid across a gap. We were rejoicing at the persistent drizzle, as it reduced the number of other cars and pedestrians at this particular road junction that could otherwise have hindered our progress.

I noticed the proud dome of the mosque as we approached. Quite a contrast to the dispirited guard sitting on the mud by the gate, shoulders hunched against the inclement weather. He barely raised his eyes to look as we walked past. Beside the mosque compound wall, we entered the labyrinth of pathways which led to the make-shift dwellings that we had come to find. The orange mud beneath my feet was slippery, and slopped over my boots. Despite the rain, people were outside washing and mending clothes, and chopping onions. They smiled as I wished them ‘Melkem addis amet’ (Happy New Year) and were pleased to show the way to China and Yetemwork’s homes. Both were built of corrugated iron, mud, pieces of wood and tarpaulin.

‘Sit!’ said China in English as she ushered us in, and cleared the only two chairs in the windowless damp interior. A tiny grubby kitten walked over my feet. It would probably have been white when it was born I guessed. An equally dishevelled toddler with a runny nose approached, fascinated by these strange white faces. Greetings, kisses and shoulder bumps were exchanged at length and I showed them the meal we had brought. China’s Mum offered coffee, but aware that it would soon get dark and that this was our first delivery we moved over to Yetemwork’s place close by. I remembered a past experience of clutter spilling over the mud floor and today was no exception, so I handed over the meal in the doorway. However, Yetemwork’s mum was pleased to emerge into the now heavier rain for a photo. With half of our mission accomplished we retraced our steps over uneven slippery rocks, and ducking past overhanging bushes, protruding metal poles, and washing.

The next destination was in another location altogether. Amanda drove fairly easily around the roundabout and down the ring road where we turned right. This is always a busy junction and the car windows were steaming up fast. Taxi vans were waiting two or three abreast at the roadside, between which I could catch glimpses of a very busy market with “souks” behind. Everything needed for the New Year weekend was on sale. Many bundles of tall “chibo” (long bunches of sticks ready for burning later) stood propped up against what used to be a lamp post. I noticed that the chickens we saw on sale yesterday were being replaced by sheaves of tall, vivid green grass with bunches of bright yellow meskel flowers tied to the side. We slowed to a standstill for no apparent reason. ‘Probably a policeman directing traffic’, Amanda predicted. She was correct.

Finally, we found Kolfe Secondary School which had a layby in front. There was room to park but as ever, it was difficult to work out which section of the road the battered free-standing “no parking” sign referred to. A wide u-turn brought us to the opposite side of the road. A random elderly man indicated a place to pull in and was already arranging a smiling young boy of about seven or eight who would be our vehicle’s guard. I had come prepared and had ten Birr (35p) ready in my pocket for our return. I knew that we had to take an unmarked diagonal pathway down towards the river that already could be heard pounding somewhere below, in front and out of sight. There were two choices and I boldly took the first. We already had a young man and at least two young boys following us. Sadly, we reached a dead end. Our followers clearly mistook our few words of Amharic to mean a greater lexicon of understanding but with their gestures and encouragement we returned to the road and tried the second pathway. This seemed more familiar and imagine my relief when Rediet herself (one of the girls we had come to find) appeared behind us. She led us to her home. Rediet’s mum was so happy to see us and receive the gift, she showered us with hugs and greetings. The only room was windowless and furnished with a large low bed, clearly used by the whole family, and a couple of chairs. There was a neatness to this place and each member of the family was happy to pose for a photo wearing their New Year clothes.

Rediet then led us through a break in a metal fence and down a very steep pathway where Tadelech’s mud and straw dwelling seems to defy gravity, perched on such steep ground. The view of the river and trees was enviable. But as I stepped around to the front door I felt the heat from a recently used metal hot plate, and winced at the sight of a toddler’s bare legs a few inches away. There was no parent around but both girls were eager for us to sit. The incongruity in this home was the working TV which brought the number of items in the room, again including two chairs and bed, to four.

With our deliveries made, we returned. The vision of these barely habitable living conditions was fresh in my mind and I determined once more never to complain about anything, ever again. Happy 2010!