Derbo - My Ethiopian Bro

 Derbo played his cards right and became my Ethiopian brother. 

He picked me up on my 2nd day in Addis back in 2010 as i was on my way to pay homage at the "alleged" burial site and tomb of Haili Selassie.

He tells me he's a student at the local Tourism College and wants to practise English with me. No problem methinks. He invites me back to his hovel and cooks us up some injera and slop. It's rancid so i take him out for a machiato. He becomes tour guide and fixer of bus tickets when i need out of Addis. 

His family are from up near Lalibela. His father was killed during the war with Eritrea and his mother is HIV, earns but a pittance in the veg market and trying to bring up the three remaining children. She has sacrificed it all to at least enroll Derbo at college in Addis in the hope he will eventually be able to bring home the bacon. Derbo would like to study medicine but the course is too expensive so he opts for tourism.His college peers look down on his poor and rural upbringing, but he gains immense face by inviting Gloves and i to a student presentation class.

Gloves and i offer to loan him the money to complete his final year of studies and today he has officially graduated. A very happy and proud chappy indeed.

I know he hopes to move into my huge spacious apartment, but it just isn't going to happen. I buy him a suit for his graduation, donate one of my new Hong Kong silk ties and write him a C.V. to cold call every tourism company in Addis. I need him self sufficient - and fast.

Bloody Parents

My biggest gripe against the parents is their lack of punctuality.

True, most students are able to arrive on compound for 8am, but classes finish at 3pm, and we often have 30+ students on campus at 4pm.  It's not uncommon for me to be on the front gate scolding them for their late appearance. I tell them i have work to do in my office but i feel too responsible for the safety and well-being of their child. Almost all take it in good spirit and most are suitably embarrassed by such an assault.

We finish our weekly Primary Management Team meeting reasonably early at 5.30 only to discover three forlorn kids waiting for their father at the food of the staircase. With classic timing his father turns up in a huge imported 4 by 4 with more light in its interior than my entire apartment. I recognize him as a repeat offender and I scold him ferociously, 

"In Britain we would define this as neglect and i would be expected to report this to social services."

He smiles and jokes and apologizes profusely, and then offers to run me home for i am car-less yet again.

Meskel

There are two holidays resulting in one and and a half days off for the students. But not for two of the school managers.

Demera sees the school close at lunch-time on Wednesday which is followed on Thursday by Meskel - the "finding of the True Cross" apparently. After eating a dodgy burger my bowels won't permit me to join up with Derbo - my Ethiopian brother for the festivities and mass bonfire in Meskel Square here in Addis.

Meskel also marks the end of rainy season. So every one tells me, but i remain sceptical. This is after all the 21st century and our climate has been completely screwed over by mankind. And anyway, there are no schedules in Ethiopia. Time has little or no meaning here. 

But once again i am proved wrong, it's the first completely dry day (and night)  i have experienced. 

The rainy season has played havoc with the poor Chinese constructed Addis roads with scores of deep pot-holes even on the major highways, let alone the unpaved tracks by school.

Thieving Gypsy B'st*rds

So i'm seriously pissed off again. But surprisingly this time it is with my kids.

In my hurry to share treats with them, i totally managed to forget to label the hoops, jump ropes and balls. Now three hoops have gone missing from the playground. I feel a complete ass. 

Students predominantly our 6 - 8 year olds were coming up and asking if they could borrow the hoops.

"For sure!" i tell them, "i got them for everyone to share". 

It transpired they wanted to take them home. And it's easily done too, as the hoops are made up of separate plastic pieces.

At line up time i tell them just how sad i am feeling.  How amazed i am at the selfishness that one or two children who could deprive our whole special community of such simple pleasures. I tell them that unless the hoops are returned tomorrow there would be no more playground toys on their way. 

By the end of the day, all the hoops have returned again and Ms J and i raid Supplies for a permanent marker to label every damn section. 

I am so elated at the honesty of the students that i send advanced late arrival apologies to my colleagues that make the Senior Management Team, "i have an Emergency Upper Primary Assembly to address and i may be delayed."

I tell the students how special they are and know the difference between right and wrong. It's not easy sometimes to own up when you have done wrong and takes courage that we should applaud. And we do. We all clap the thieving gypsy b*stards who had the couragee to admit they had made a mistake and returned them for sharing with all. 

Respec'

Hoop La

While it will take time to distribute our Shopping Mall raid, there is something i wanted to do for all the kids - get some hula hoops, skipping ropes and balls. It's taken over a week to procure, but it's so special to see their faces, and many come over to thank and/or hug me - of all ages. 

The balls are quickly dispersed over the wall/fence but the hula hoops are like gold dust.

Dividends

I have had some excellent practice at writing vicious emails, and i send a particularly aggressive one to all my "friends" in Admin informing them at my disgust the lack of movement vital resources including words and phrases like "gross incompetence" and "wake up and smell the coffee. I demand they hand over my monthly floating budget of Birr 4000 and i'll buy the stuff myself. I cc my Boss and the Owner and within 3 hours, Dr No and Mr A have brought the car round and take Ms J and myself on a shopping spree for our Early Years students at the local toy mall. We get some construction tools, 3 sets of plastic golf clubs, skittles, play-house equipment, and two railway tracks. Total bill - Birr 8,000!!! 

Dr No is hurting. "Don't ask me for any more of these for the next 100 years," he grumbles belligerently.

Ms J is beaming like the cat that got the cream and i'm real close to tears. We drive our hoard triumphantly into the playground like wild warriors.

 

New Wheels

So i finally got rid of the antique Toyota and traded it with Mr T for his small blue Kia, and i'm kind of thinking Mr T is off his rocker - the Toyota's steering wheel is completely defunct, and i tell him so. 

Mr T fails to warn me that the clutch in the Kia is absolutely butchered and despite allegedly having 4 gears, it actually only has 3rd and 4th. 

I complain to Mr A and Dr. No, but they don't wanna listen. After 3 days i invite Dr No to check it out on our excursion for resourcing - i force him to drive it rather than take his card. He has no choice but to concede "it's not right" he snorts, and it spends the following 72 hours in a garage getting repaired. It finally comes back a little better but not much. I think Mr A and Dr No are reeking their revenge on me. At least i'm able to maneuver it swiftly out of the restrictive and over-populated Sunrise Residences' car park.
 

Skiving Off

After almost a month, i feel rebellious and i make a conscious effort not to go to school today.

I have been in every day since my arrival into Addis and i usually end up getting my hands dirty every Sunday. It is a fight of consciousness because there is still much i have to do on site, not least complete my filing cabinets. 

All records "have to" be kept at Admin's HQ at the Secondary site. It has "been agreed" that it makes sense to have student files on the Primary site, so i have been granted to photocopies of the front page of the inadequate Admissions forms. I can't even persuade them to give me previous report cards. 

I have requested more pertinent information on the students (religion, ethnicity/nationality, health/allergies) etc. which the current forms don't include, but i am told it is possible but it might take a while. They just point-blank refuse to make any changes to the Admissions form. 

Our two Kindergarten classes are only supposed to hold 36 students, but the Admissions department have accepted 44. We call urgently requesting they close the entry immediately. Next day we are told there is are 50 and we're forced to open a 3rd Kindy class and we are now completely filled the only possible classroom left in the building. We were scheduled to open this academic year with 355 students we have now reached 432 and spanning 56 nationalities.The congestion in the playground is scary. 

We're still short of 4 class teachers and 4 Educational Assistants despite conducting almost 30 interviews. A couple of candidates were clearly quality but clearly our salaries are not very competitive, for we were turned down. Where HR are digging up Ed Assists. candidates from i have no idea, but many can't even utter a sentence together and mainly grunt nonchalantly. 

I find out from Mr Z that one of our Ed Assists and SEN staff who has been at the school for 2 years is paid Birr 900 per month of which his rent is at least Birr 600. He's has less than US$20 to live on a month. It's too shocking. He won't be getting married any time soon.

Ketchup with Tin Tin

Five days after my arrival into Addis, Tin Tin flies into town armed with my somewhat strange request for toilet tablets and plastic spatula for omelette making.

We met oh so briefly in Kigali a couple of years ago but have stayed in contact via Facebook and blog posts regularly.

Tin Tin is one of the ultimate dromomaniacs and Ethiopia marks her 88^th country as she busily ticks them off one by one. She’s also the ultimate LA doll. A free-lance set designer on music videos and movies, she has dedicated her life to travel and shopping.

I’m so snowed under at work whilst she heads south to the Tribal South, but she’s back through Addis for one night before heading on the dawn bus to Bahir Dar.

It’s truly beautiful to catch up with her in an authentic Korean restaurant and time disappears all too fast. Fortunately, she passes through Addis again, before heading on for her first visits to United Arab Emirates and Qatar. And she thinks i’m “rad”.    

Post Script: We do catch up again, and again tantalizingly far too brief. She is giving Qatar a miss, but squeezing in three days in Djibouti before heading to UAE and seven territories. The pizza is great and the company even better. She tells me that the feeling she gets as she flies out of LA is better than sex. I think she's missing the point. 

Tin Tin has made her life choices and she's still got over 200 more countries, territories and principalities to visit. No idea when or where we'll next meet, and i can only hope it will be sooner and for longer. Your an ultimate TT

A Visit from The Founder

Dr No is an excited man. Ato S. The school’s Founder and General Manager is making a rare stop-over in Addis and he is granting me with an audience.

Ato S. Originates from the eastern city of Harar. He is also a former student of my Boss, Ms A who he has asked to oversee the school’s founding and development.

I have met him once before on my visit in April, and i find him agreeable and keen to hear my opinions on not just educational matters.

He arrives in my office without notice in the afternoon, and i am keen to take him on a site-walk. He is both impressed at the whipping – up of maintenance, and dismayed at the lack of toys, games and resources available on campus. Everyone on campus is summoned one by one. Mr K has been ordered not just maintain, but further improve Health and Safety, and hurry up with the remaining painting assignments i have requested, Pointing out both antiquated and broken photocopiers (one breaks down daily, and spends more time in Maintenance off-site than at school!), he asks for an immediate purchase of a brand new heavy duty copier and damn the expence. He then summons Dr No. He asks me in front of Dr No what i need and i tell him. 

Balls, hoops and skipping ropes immediately and then the essential teaching resources to deliver the newly mapped curriculum. 

Dr No is cowering as Ato S concedes to my every whim. 

Ato S leaves me his phone number and asks me to call him any time night or day, although i note this he has at least two other cell-phones, and vanishes as fast as he came.

Later that day i walk around the playground with Dr No. 

“So are you going to help me?” i ask. He has no choice but to say yes. It clearly hurts him which makes it taste even more sweet.

But i want more – i want a solemn oath from him.

And there, on our newly painted crappy compound i get him to place his hand on my heart and promises to help finance the necessary resources to teach.

Parent Teachers' Association

I have heard mixed reports of the Parents at my school, but a school undoubtedly runs better when parents are "on board". Together the school and parents should be a team in supporting the development of every student, and i fully believe in developing a community of learners incorporating students, teachers, parents and myself.

In last week’s Senior Management Team i am ordered to host the first PTA meeting of the year. My remit is very simple – invite the PTA to meet up before the school’s AGM. Traditionally, they are held on the first Wednesday evening of the month. I go through Ms J, the Secretary of the PTA amongst her many hats, which sends a message to the PTA Chair and we agree to advertise the meeting on the school notice boards as well as direct approaches and canvassing to arriving and departing parents.

Last year the PTA had some 6 active members, all from the Primary School and poor Mr N (newly arrived Head of Sec.) is forced to attend also. Unfortunately whilst i have advertised as a 6.30 start, Mr N has adapted it to 6.15 whilst the “norm” is 7pm. 

With no idea of how many parents to attend, i open up the Library, possibly the school’s best resourced room, put out a few bits of paper and biros and wait. Come 6.30, there are about 10 expectant parents, almost all new to the school and all from Primary. It’s a bit embarrassing, especially as the PTA Chair hasn’t turned up, nor my Boss who promised attendance.

Come 7pm there is still no Chair and i don’t really know where to look anymore. As no-one is taking a lead, (surely someone from the PTA!), i feel obliged to get up and introduce myself and express my desire for school/parent co-operation to support the student/child. I then apologise for i have no idea what the agenda for the meeting is meant to be about and i don’t know how i’ve found myself leading this forum. I see Mr N. nodding off in the corner so i decide to put him in the limelight. N. blags well. 

I then stall for more time by insisting that everyone introduces themselves, and by 7.15pm the Chair turns up without much apology.  He talks at length about not very much at all and, as i could have predicted, the conversation turns eventually to the thorny issue of school uniform – the PTAs seemingly only contribution to the School in over 2 years. 

By this time it’s 8.30pm, and after 14+ hours hard at work, and so many more important things to fret about,  i just wanna shoot myself. 

Mr N’s Kenyan wife is so furious with his late arrival back to the familial home she locks him out of the bedroom for the night.

Dr No

On my three day visit from Hong Kong to Addis to view the school at the end of April, i spoke briefly to the departing Head of Secondary over a cigarette in the Boss’ garden and asked him to name the three largest challenges he had faced in his three years leading the school?

D. candidly answered, listing Ato Y. as Number One – known as Dr. No. It’s very apt. Not only does he look like a Bond villain, as the Head of Finance, he keeps saying “no”  every time he is asked to open the coffers.

I find him somewhat reptilian and has a habit of grunting like a porker at the end of every other sentence. But he bows and cowers when he shakes my hand, and i like that. 

After all my gripes and viciousness towards the unyielding School Administration based at the Secondary campus, i can only think he has been sent to spy on me on the Primary site. 

Dr No is a personal friend of the Founder / General Manager, a rich Ethiopian from Harar. A few years back Dr No disappeared from the school amidst rumours of corruption and missing millions, but showed up again a few months later and a lot fatter.