Popular Songs Around Gondar

The sensations sweeping the nation…

Holla to my home town- This is a song about Gondar, and the biddies who come from it. Yes, Gondar has a rep- it’s like an inferiority complex with Addis Ababa, but Addis Ababa don’t care. This a mix of hip hop and Amhara region dancing. Pretty cool yo.

So you know Chop my Money? Here’s the Amharic version- apparently it’s a rage all over Eastern Africa.

And moving farther south, coming out of the Southern Nations and Peoples Region is “Shaleye” which means “my something… I dont know what a shale is. But at some point they sing Dilla Dilla Dillaye, which means my Dilla, which is a city in the South where my lovely friend Alyssa is posted. Plus it has a catchy tune.

And finally, this comes from the good ole US of A, but it is the sensation sweeping the Peace Corps Nation. Enjoy Thrift Store… sometimes I think Ethiopia is one giant thrift store.

Fasika – An excuse to eat A LOT of meat

 

Last weekend was Ethiopian Orthodox Easter, the end of a 55 day fast, and the return of tibs! Tibs, a half kilo of red meat sliced, diced, and served with injera and awazi (spicy berebere sauce) is back on the menu. The last 55 days of fasting has meant no meat products, including milk, eggs, and cheese. For some more devout orthodox, it has also meant no eating before 3pm every day.

But why 55 days instead of the 40 days of Lent? Apparently weekends don’t count so the fasting really is 40 week days… but you still have to fast on Saturday and Sunday so it ends up being 55 days.

The point is, everyone is now eating meat. You can hear the chickens and roosters every morning, the goats that know their number is up, and the dogs who can sense all the carcasses coming their way. It’s quite a cacophony of potential food. I always a enjoy a rousing game of “goat or child?” their brays sound so much alike.

Woke up to this guy’s intestines chilling in a bucket outside my house the other day… yummy. His name was Carl.

Like other Easters, Fasika is a family holiday. I was able to eat with a few families here in Gondar, stuffed full of doro wot (chicken stew) and siga wot (red meat stew… goat). Luckily I avoided the home brews of tella and arake, the former a grassy, watery beer, the later fire in a bottle.

But I got a great surprise at my coworker Edward’s house! His brother who lives in America had sent over some Red Label Scotch.  Clearly I drank it on the rocks… I’m not solidifying any stereotypes about foreign women on that one… oops.

Fasika at Ed’s … Morgan couldn’t make it, didn’t know he had put up the sign haha

Even though I’m a ‘homatarian’ also known as I don’t buy meat at the market and only cook vegetarian meals or care package meats in my house, I’m happy to have meat back in the restaurants.  And the price of eggs will finally go down.

So Melkam Fasika (Happy Easter!), the S’aom  (fasting) is over and we can eat siga (meat) again!

Habesha Libs- Traditional Clothing

Traditional clothing in Ethiopia varies by region, religion, tribe, and socio-economic status. In Gondar there is a mix of traditional clothing and modern clothing, and even some modern-traditional styles running around.

Especially for the holidays, everyone gets dressed in their traditional best, even if sometimes it doesn’t match what a middle class Gonderian would wear. This year at Timket I saw a lot of Gojam outfits from stylish men and women who clearly were not Gojam farmers. Gojam is the region south of here. So traditional or not, or “semi-traditional” or however you want to call it, it’s still cool to see the influence of these cultural clothes on modern fashion. There is a hoodie made from traditional material with embroidery that is super popular in Addis right now, and I might have to pick one up.

For women, the traditional dress is a white linen with embroidery on the cuffs, in the middle, on the bottom, or all three, paired with a white nutella (scarf wrap) of the same fabric. A very Gondar version of this is to have a thick rim of embroidery on the bottom hem, but only on the back. There is also another traditional dress that is made of thicker white fabric that is loose around the arms with symbols of the Orthodox cross.

Girl with the largest forehead ever, wearing the cutest habesha libs

stylish leather bag not included

And of course, the hair makes the outfit. Traditional braiding here can get pretty crazy. Especially in the north (Tigray) there is braiding style that looks like 3 mountain ranges on the top of the head that is let loose about mid way down the head, with skinny braids over the forehead like a crown, supposedly representing Jesus’ crown of thorns.

women with nutellas and Tigray braids

Then there is a more Gondarian braiding style that is basically cornrows on crack, and they are beautiful.

braids- with smaller braids, and other braids around those. Cool.

For the men there are the traditional white clothes, and then there are the Gojam button clothes. Green is the typical colour for Gojam farmers and they wear these short shorts in order to work more efficiently. Then for a little flair, white buttons are sown all over.

Carmen and Wendeson, my landlord’s brother

Gojam kids with a sheep horn

In addition to the shorts, there is also a type of pantaloon pant with suspenders that they wear sometimes. I saw some stylish girls rocking a fashionable version of these Gojam pumpkin pants, and maybe I’ve been in country too long, but I could totally see wearing that out. The other farmer accessory is a straw hat, almost like a cowboy hat. Gotta protect yourself from the sun. The priests also have a turban like wrap made of the same traditional nutella white fabric as the women wear.

the straw hats

priestly hats

So a mix of traditional, modern, well-off and farming culture has created a new kind of traditional clothing that mixes elements from all of it. Fashion is always one of many lenses into culture, and which elements get picked up from where create a story of cultural dominance, migrant movement, historical patterns, and modern twists.

And how these travel around the world are even more interesting. I heard the other day that the intricate Ethiopian Orthodox cross was becoming a popular pendant in America.

straight from Etsy

“Please meet my servant”: The Concept of a Seratenya

When I first moved in to my new home, I met the people living on the compound with me: my landlord, his sister, his brother, and a 16 year old girl named Wubit. Or maybe it’s Wudit. I’ve asked about 100 times, but I still don’t know- it’s a nickname either way. Her history is also a bit of mystery to me. What was made clear was that she was the seratenya. My landlord, who’s English is very good, introduced her as the servant.

Carmen, Wubit, and me

Seratenya really translates to something like “helper.” There are all sorts of jobs with seratenya in the title- like secretaries, accountants etc. But a compound/household seratenya is really a cross between a maid, a cook, and a guard, so basically yes, a servant. Having a servant in America is jarring- you employ a butler (rare), or a cook (I wish), or a weekly cleaning service (more normal), but to call someone a servant has so many connotations, most of them conjuring up a Downton Abbey-esque existence with tumultuous social conditions and giant mansions.

But here, the concept of a servant is commonplace, expected, even positive. If you live in a grand estate in Ethiopia, you have a seratenya (or 5). If you live in a mud hut in a village and have 15 children and are barely working class, you also have a seratenya.

The path of a seratenya is varied. Many work for extended family members. Nieces and nephews come in from the rural countryside (from that family of 15) and work for their more situated relatives who may be teachers or shop owners. Usually a girl comes to work in the house, and a boy might be a farm hand.  Many of our host families employed seratenyas. Mine did not, but much of the work was done by the oldest daughter—a substitute seratenya. Others are hired from agencies, or through networks (social capital!) of people who know people who need servants or are looking for work. Many Ethiopians also go abroad to work as household servants for families who will pay them five times as much in Dubai, Abudabi, and Saudi Arabia.

This is Wubit’s story, from what I gather of our extremely broken conversations. She has no English, I have minimal Amharic, but I try to talk with her, mostly because she’s the one who’s always around. The only time she leaves the compound is to go to the market or to take night classes.

Wubit making Berbere

Wubit is from a village east of Gondar in the Woldia region (I think), which is about an eight hour drive from here. She came to Gondar to work when she was 14 and is not related to my landlord’s family. Her daily duties include cooking meals, washing clothes, cleaning dishes, and general household upkeep. She sleeps on a mattress on the floor in a small room that also doubles as the pantry. She is the last one to go to bed, after she lets the guard dog off the leash, and the first one awake to make breakfast for the others in the compound. She had never been to school before, and started to take extension (night and weekend) classes when she came to Gondar. She is 16 years old and now in Grade 2.

Sometimes she shows me her exercise book, which is full of notes of new English words that she cannot read. The education system here is very much done by rote, a topic for another time, and so she copies things off the board she does not understand. But it is impressive that she continues to study and attend class when she started so far behind and probably will stay in the housework industry until she gets married, and then will still do housework. But this is an advantage of the system. Young girls who would not be able to go to school living in the countryside (either because they help at home, it is expensive or too far away, they get married young, or their brothers are already going and so why bother?) They now have the opportunity to take alternative education classes in the towns where they come to work. It is hard. Their days are filled with chores and responsibilities, and education is only valued by some of the population, one of whom is my landlord, which I appreciate.

When she isn’t working, I see her staring out down the mountain towards the road, people watching

But sometimes these girls are easy targets for other fates: trafficking, sexual exploitation or abuse, especially the ones who go abroad. But the lure of high pay tends to trump these worries. Many of these women come from Muslim communities in the east part of the country because the cultural ties are stronger to head to the Middle East.

Labour here is cheap, and people need jobs. In fact, in a town where the average “ferenji” is a doctor or university professor and making a foreign salary it is somewhat expected that I would have my own seratenya. I have been approached multiple times on the street with offers by women to do my laundry, and neighbors have asked who cooks for me. A single woman who works and runs her own home is fairly rare. Even single women who do not work employ servants, and single men, if they don’t live with family, absolutely do. Some volunteers do hire someone to do their laundry every couple weeks, or cook a meal here or there. The monthly cost would be the same as one nice meal out here.

Male volunteers face this question more than most. Friends of mine who loved to cook in America get some weird looks when they make their own meals and do their own laundry. Half of it is gender roles, but the other half is the same associations I get- that you are foreign, ipso facto you are rich, so why don’t you employ someone? But even though I am not “rich,” I could still afford a seratenya at the labor rates here.

For now I like to do my chores on my own if only to prove a stubborn independent American point, though after a year of hand washing my clothes I may sing a different tune. But for better or worse seratenyas become a member of the family. Chores are done by women together. A few weeks ago everyone on my compound was out together grinding peppers and other spices to make berbere, laughing at my high pitched sneezes (I couldn’t help it!). And even though she doesn’t work for me, Wubit is like a little sister. Sometimes I help with homework, and she knows the names of all my friends. And every time I walk through the gate she greets me and her eyes light up with that adorable smile. She talks a mile a minute in a language I don’t know, and when I’m tired sometimes I can’t handle it, but it’s always with a giggle and a kind “Algabashim?” (You don’t understand?). Nope, I don’t girl, but we get along just fine in spite of it.

Favorite Photos Quarter 1

 

Here are some of my favorite photos from the first four months in Ethiopia. (Whoa! 4 months already!) Some are great photographs, others are great for the stories behind them. I’ll try to round up the best of the best from my collections and other volunteers every quarter or so.

Security and Beauty, Debre Birhan, Amhara

Life’s work, Addis Ababa

Biofarm, Assela, Oromia

A helping hand

St. Gebre’s Church, Dessie, Amhara

Peace Corps Goal 3

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery

Ethiopia in a picture, it works, but not at right angles

Sunrise over Iteya

Host Family love

Swearing in, boy band style

nooks and crannies

Ambling

Harvest Season

Gondar Skyline

Roasting coffee beans

Chiz- “incense”

Making Burbere – Credit: Morgan Davison

Slacklining across generations – Credit: Morgan Davison

Helping Mom – Credit: Morgan Davison

Bizu Camels – Credit: Morgan Davison

Lady and Boy – Credit: Morgan Davison

Monkey Hand – Credit: Forrest Copeland

Credit: Forrest Copeland

Biofarm, Assela, Oromia – Credit: Forrest Copeland

G8 Placements – Credit: Forrest Copeland

The Snoring Chicken! – Credit: Forrest Copeland

A Sunday Gari Ride – Credit: Forrest Copeland

Prayer by candlelight – Timket, Gondar

Fasilides Bath

Holy Water

Timket Pools

Arc Parade Float

Mother and boy watching Timket parade

Old Woman and Gojam boys

And for those of you without facebook (I’m looking at you Jessica!) here’s a link to some more photos I’ve taken:

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10152238195750523.932106.640805522&type=1&l=b542fc88bd

Timket – The Epiphany Celebration

About a week ago we celebrated one of the biggest holidays in the Ethiopian Orthodox tradition – Epiphany or Timket. It was a three day celebration with parades, holy water blessings, eating, discovering new parts of Gondar, and learning more about the Orthodox tradition.

As a bit of background, the Orthodox Epiphany is different from what most protestant Christians think of it. I grew up understanding Epiphany as the time when the wise men came to Jesus (ya, it wasn’t Christmas Eve, sorry Nativity sets). But Orthodox Epiphany is the celebration of when Jesus was baptized by John the Baptist in the Jordan River some 30 years later. Epiphany being less of the wise men’s eureka moment and more of the commencement of Jesus’ mission and teachings on Earth.

Going even farther into background, the Arc of the Covenant is also believed to be housed in Ethiopia (Axum- Tigray Region). It was taken here from Jerusalem for safekeeping by Menelik I, the lovechild of the Queen of Sheba (Ethiopian) and King Solomon (wise old dude ruling Jerusalem). But Menelik didn’t exactly ask permission to take the Arc, thus creating a legend of Indiana Jones proportions (seriously, Indiana Jones goes to Ethiopia in the Last Crusade). Each Orthodox Church has a replica of the Arc of the Covenant and during Timket these arcs get paraded around each city or small town. But no one is supposed to look upon it (since it houses the Holy of Holies and all) so what you end up seeing are a bunch of umbrellas running around town.

What makes the Timket celebration in Gondar unique, and the biggest in the nation, is the ceremony at the Fasilides Baths. Most towns have parades and some holy water blessings, but Gondar goes through an elaborate ceremony and a priest converts and entire castle moat into Holy Water. Ya, it’s epic.

So I’ll walk you through some of the celebrations, history and ceremony from the vantage point behind my camera. My house was directly on the parade route and only 10 mins walk from the baths so I can safely say I was in the thick of the celebration all weekend.

Friday afternoon the celebration started with a parade of all the churches coming together with their priests, arcs, some floats and thousands of people walking from each church to the baths. There are 44 arcs (44 Orthodox Churches) in total in Gondar.

The parade coming down from Piazza, view from the mountain by my house

Some of the bigger churches had floats and entire entourages, all the arcs had to travel on a carpet which boys rolled and unrolled in front of the procession all the way down the hill

The arcs arrive, AKA a flock of umbrellas

Arc Parade Float

Each church had their own personality, uniform and group. In addition to the church processions many people joined and watched the parade in their finest traditional clothing [future blog post]. For women, habesha libs, as their known, are the white shawls (nutellas) with white linen dresses with beautiful embroideries on the hemlines. This year, there were a lot of Gojam (West Amhara region) farmer clothes as well. The green or blue outfits with the buttons made for the cutest little children.

This horse is decked out

Gojam boys and outfits

nuns and crowd

watching the parade, and protecting herself from the sun

As the parade passed we jumped on to the end and walked toward the baths. On the way, impromptu dance parties were happening everywhere. Morgan and I made sure to document. I was lucky enough to host Dan and Nicole, third year extension volunteers who spent their first two years in Gondar and were able to introduce me to more organizations, hole in the wall restaurants, and their favorite places around the city.

Ryan getting his shoulder shake on with a Gojam farmer

Morgan getting a good shot

Dan and Nicole- best tour guides

At the baths on Friday evening, the arcs arrive and the priests begin to set up. The more committed pilgrims stood vigil all night saying prayers and giving thanks. We returned the next morning in the dark at 4:30am to bleachers already full. BBC was doing a documentary on Timket this year (yay for Ethiopian tourism!) so there were a lot of media around as well. But being some of the only ferenjis able to say more than four words in Amharic we got pulled to the front and given prime spots. The enthusiasm by Ethiopians to share their traditions is really great to witness and experience. The weekend was full of anecdotes extolling Ethiopian hospitality, including the next day when five priests walked into my compound and invited us to have tea with them.

Fasilides Baths

This priest came out and posed for our cameras, pretty awesome

Prayer by candlelight at dawn

Priests lined up and chanting

There were no seats left so people started climbing trees, very Zachius…

The ceremony lasted through the dawn and priests and worshipers sang, chanted and prayed as the sun came up. A quick sermon was given in Amharic and one of the priests blessed the water in the moat around Fasilides Castle. Not even three seconds later, hundreds of young men stripped down and jumped 20 feet off the walls into the water. Events got pretty chaotic as mobs pressed in around the sides of the pool. It’s a moment of ecstasy as (mostly men) jump into the water for blessing and then turn around and “bless” everyone else by throwing large splashes into the crowd. It was a lot of fun, if not a little claustrophobic.  Young boys climbed over scaffolding, jumped from trees, and old women filled water bottles with holy water to bring back to their homes.

As an aside, in Ethiopia, there is a superstition that holy water can cure AIDS and so part of the public health communications approach  (which is part of my work here) has been working with religious institutions not to necessarily discredit this belief, but to advocate a dual holy water/ART drug strategy.

Priest blessing the water

The baths are open all weekend for revelers to come take a dip. Sunday afternoon we returned and the baths resembled more of a community pool with kids diving in and out and racing each other around the sides. It doesn’t sound like there is an expiration date for the Holy Water, so I filled up a bottle myself. It’s sitting full of silt on my kitchen counter- I’ll have to remember not to boil my pasta in it.

Diving in

Lots of blessing going on

Jumping in, clothes and all

Baths become a community pool

A more leisurely time to bathe

So there’s a long winded but very brief description of Timket in Gondar. It’s clearly the place to be for this holiday if the explosion of tourists (both foreign and Ethiopian) are any indication. It was a great introduction to some more of the cultural aspects of the city and Orthodox faith which pretty much dominates this region. I’m taking reservations for my floor for next year, but you’ll have to bring me chocolate.

For more Timket photos here is a link to my facebook album 

Market Anecdotes

The way the airport is the best people watching place in America, the market on market day is the most authentic place to dive deep into community culture here in Ethiopia. A hustling, bustling, chaotic, crazy mess, many volunteers shy away from market days. I kind of love them. Yes I get a lot of attention, but at the same time, most people just want to conduct their business, get the best deal and crack a few jokes. Especially surprising people by using Amharic (even if it is only tinish tinish “a little bit”) is one my favorite moments.

Sorry for the lack of photos on this one- I don’t like taking my camera out in this area (duh). But a few anecdotes will help explain this Saturday ritual.

1)      The bus station is in the middle of the market, and only the bravest of tourists attempt to enter Gondar this way (the usual way being the airport at the other end of town- for those interested in coming!). My good friend Morgan comes in often from her small village a couple hours away to do her banking, pick up food not available at her market and get a pizza every once in a while. She usually loads up with stuff before heading back. Being white, the bus boys naturally assume we are headed to Bahar Dar (a resort town a couple hours away). When she says the name of her tiny town and I say I live here and am just helping (all in Amharic), I’ve never seen so many confused looks in my life.

2)      Similarly, a few days ago I bought 2 giant plastic buckets to hold my vegetables/dirty dishes/wash my clothes in. An Ethiopian tour guide was leading a group of tourists down the road, took a double look at my buckets and said “You’re not in my group—you live here!” Like it was a great discovery. Clearly, because all tourists buy cheap plastic buckets. They make great souvenirs.

3)      Walking to the market the other day I ran into one of the few mentally ill people in town. Small pause- this is actually a sad problem here. Many mentally ill people are left to fend for themselves on the streets because there are no free/public mental institutions and their families do not have the money to support them. Anyway, one such man passed me and pinched me on the arm, not very hard, but it took me by surprise. I told him it was rude, and he started to walk behind me rattling a water bottle. But what makes this better were the people who came to my aid and led him away. For as much harassment as I receive there is an equal amount of looking out for me.

4)      Berbere is the spicy powder used in almost every Ethiopian dish, and it is made from dried peppers and a myriad of other things. Getting turned around in the market the other day I ended up wandering down “berbere lane,” basically the section where all the berbere is made and sold. With kariya (dried pepper) dust floating into my eye, I was weeping as I walked down the road. And by weeping I mean, snot nosed, puffy eyed, crawling on my knees in confusion of how to get away from the poisonous dust that was choking me. Ok it wasn’t that bad, but I did get a whole lot more “izosh!es” (stay strong girl!) from the women as I made my way out of that section.

5)      Less of a market story, but “market related.” One New Year’s Eve a few of us volunteers went out to dinner at one of the nicer hotels in the area as a treat. This was a nice restaurant, good service, a beautiful view and even a prix fix menu. The choice for dessert was a chocolate cake or seasonal fruit. One volunteer chose the fruit… and was brought a banana. On a plate. Clearly it’s dry season. But who doesn’t choose chocolate cake? He brought that one on himself.

6)      Speaking of bananas, they are everywhere. Every stand, souk, and lady with a tarp on the ground is selling them. Therefore, there a lot of banana peels in the road… you can guess where I am heading with this. I literally Charlie Chaplin/3 Stooges/Mario Kart/My Usual Self style slipped on a banana peel in the middle of the market. I kid you not. Lucky for me, slapstick comedy is very popular here and I’m glad the Ethiopians who saw this thoroughly appreciated the humour.

So these are just a few weeks of notes and stories. I try to carry my notebook around with me to write down the funny moments of the day because the only way to live cross culturally is to hold your head up high and laugh with the punches (and sometimes pinches) that come along.

Habesha Time

In the rest of the world it is December 22, 2012, or maybe it isn’t if the Mayan rumors are true. But how is this blog post possible if everyone else perished in a fiery end of Armageddon proportions?  Answer: the magical Ethiopian Calendar.

For me, today is December 11, 2005. Yes, I am writing to you both from the future (time differences!) and from the past (sorta). Basically I have about 7 more years before the Mayan doom- so tell me, what happened that fateful day?

In all seriousness, the Ethiopian time system is one of the most interesting I’ve come across. It is a derivative of the Julian calendar, whereas the ferenji or “foreign aka American” calendar is the Gregorian system. The difference of about 7 or 8 years comes about due to a difference in calculation, by the Coptic Church, of when the Angel Gabriel announced to the Virgin Mary that she was pregnant with Jesus. Why couldn’t they keep proper records back then?

In addition to the year differences, there are 13 months in the Ethiopian Calendar. This is convenient for tourism as Ethiopia can truthfully claim 13 months of sunshine. There are 12 months of 30 days each and a 13th month of 5 or 6 days called Pagume [Pa-gu-may] which is stuck in there to make the other 12 work on the yearly cycle (the whole earth going around the sun thing). What that means is that the Ethiopian New Year falls on September 11th, (Sept. 12th in a leap year), just after rainy season.

If that weren’t complicated enough, the time is different here too. Although now that I’m used to it, it makes so much more sense. 6am or sunrise is the start of the day (0:00), noon (6:00), 6pm (12:00) and the night time starts over. So basically from 0-12 hours is from sunrise to sunset and the night is another 12 hours. Facepalm. What is this weird 4am in the morning thing Americans got going on? Nonsensical. Of course, this system works well for a country where sunrise and sunset are pretty much consistent throughout the year since we are close to the equator.

What this ultimately means is that every time I schedule a meeting we have to clarify bahabesha or bafereji sa-at? Meaning Ethiopian or foreign calendar/time? If that confusion isn’t a good excuse for missing deadline, I don’t know what is. So I keep my watch on Ethiopian time, and my cell phone on foreign time, just in case I need to switch back and forth. A lot of international NGOs and organizations work on the foreign clock system, while the local orgs clearly use the local time. If someone brought in the 24:00 European/military system right now I would explode.

Moral of the story is, send me your World Series winners  and lottery numbers from 2006-2012, I think I could make some good bets.

Ethiopian Gangnam Style

So Gangnam Style might be old news in the US by now, but it is just starting to sweep across Ethiopia. One of my fellow trainees made this awesome video staring volunteers, host families and locals in Hurruta, Ethiopia’s version of PSY’s k-Pop sensation. Enjoy.

 

 

The Bunna Ceremony

Even though I have only been living here for just over two months (has it really been that long already?), there is one piece of Ethiopian culture I think I have a pretty good grasp on: The Bunna Ceremony.

Legend has it that coffee was discovered in Ethiopia, in the south west of the country. True or not, coffee certainly has a large place in the culture here. I’m not talking “Ethiopian Roasts” from Starbucks, I mean the traditional coffee ceremony (called bunna in Amharic) that every Peace Corps volunteer has sat through at least 45 times by now.

Every special event, celebration, plain old 4pm in the afternoon, or 9pm at night calls for a coffee ceremony.  I will walk you through one as I got to help prepare the coffee from scratch. Now many of you who know me, are probably thinking how in the world did this coffee adverse girl get the luck of being assigned to the nation of the birthplace of coffee? She’s a waste a space. Never fear! I am officially now a coffee drinker. Not addicted yet, though I feel a slight headache coming on…

Though you really cannot compare this delicious concoction with an American cup o’ Joe. Therefore I am not a coffee “drinker” so much as I am officially a coffee “connoisseur,” and with such a now refined palette I will not bring my newly addict ways back across the Atlantic.

THE BUNNA CEREMONY

Ayu, one of our language trainers

I think the best habit to come out of this ceremony is the presence of fandesha (popcorn). If you really want to get fancy and impress the neighbors you best make sure you have some popcorn (double points for kettlecorn done over the charcoal) ready. The other traditional accompaniment is a grass floor (not pictured). The “modern” version of this is a little straw mat died green to look like grass. I think this comes from the days when the floors were all dirt (most still are) and so only the fancy people could afford to put grass down—a sign of wealth.

bunna and fandesha

Step 1- Wash the coffee beans that you picked out of your backyard, or if you’re a city girl like me (hey Gondar!) that you bought from your neighbor that picked it out of their backyard. Super fresh.

Raw Coffee Beans

Step 2- Roast the beans over a traditional charcoal stove. None of you cheaters with your fancy propane burners! Be sure to waft the scent around the room (don’t know if this is traditional or because I smelled bad and my host mom wanted to cover it up).

perfectly roasted beans

incense- usually frankincense is traditional

Step 3- Grind the beans (by hand!) by crushing them with a mallet. While this is happening, be sure to “techawetchi” meaning talk about what’s going on in the town. Sanctioned gossip, all right! The word literally means “to play.”

Upper Body Strength is Key

Step 4- Boil the water in a jebenna and add scoops of ground coffee to steep. The jebennas are clay jug like things that considering I will not be brewing my own coffee anytime soon, will probably serve as beautiful flower vases. Machine espresso is also popular here (thank the Italians), but clearly everyone knows the best bunna bets in town are always jebenna bunna bets- the traditional way.

jebenna- I will probably bring back about 10 for souvenirs- hope you like it mom!

Pouring

Step 5- Add three spoons of sugar to a tiny cup. Maybe this is why I can drink it black. A quirk of our training region (the ARSI region) is that most people traditionally prefer bunna ba wetat, or “with milk.” Apparently not as popular up north.

Residual Sugar

Step 6- After a very finely tuned sense of timing (for me, the jebenna boiled over), you know the coffee is brewed. Serve 3 cups. This is very important, it is rude to quit after the first 2 because each is drunk to a specific toast. Cup 1 is for family, Cup 2 for friendship, Cup 3 for health. Don’t worry, they’re small.

3 Cups of Bunna… someone should write a book

All in all a bunna ceremony can take from 1 to 3 hours, depending on how much news you bring to the table, or how tired you are.  Along with the gorsha (feeding someone with your hands), the bunna ceremony is another traditional sign of love and friendship.

So I’m taking orders for Ethiopian roasts- but I will only entertain requests that come with care packages. I should have a PO Box in about 2 weeks! Keep your eyes peeled coffee lovers : )