Adventure In Ethiopia: A Slaughterhouse, Clinic, and Wetlands

It's been an interesting week since coming home from Gondar. We arrived back to find some Belgians and a Kenyan student staying in our dorm, and it's been fun showing them around town and comparing our expectations, observations, and experiences of the country. A Ph.D student, Veronique, has been to Jimma many times before and has been both helpful and insightful concerning the culture and language. She is here collecting fluid and organ samples from cows, so I decided to tag along to the slaughterhouse and see how it's done. Obviously, it was a gruesome experience and I expect the word 'slaughterhouse' is description enough. Plants don't make nearly the mess when you dissect them. In the end I was glad I went; as a consumer of meat it was a valuable opportunity to appreciate that part of the process of putting food on my plate. Though the methods used to sedate and kill the animals are far from optimal, the manager seemed quite eager to learn from Veronique and was opened-minded enough to accept recommendations after her research is complete.

Last Friday I had some chest pain so Prof. Solomon rounded up a car and we made the first trip of the summer to the health clinic. Suzie came along too as it had some potential to be an adventure. Prof. Solomon seemed glad to have an excuse to avoid another administrative meeting and his good spirits were welcomed in the waiting room as he told jokes and roared his famous Harar laugh. The trip had a bit of irony since Prof. Solomon and our friends have always joked about taking us to the clinic everytime we got sick throughout the summer. Of course, until last Friday we had managed to avoid the clinic, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything. The office is run by a recent med-school graduate and it really didn't differ too much from one in Canada. However, there seemed to be some critically ill patients there so I felt a bit sheepish coming in with comparatively mild symptoms. In the end the diagnosis was nothing serious and a day of rest led to recovery.

I ended the weekend by hiking out to Boya lake with the Belgians (~8km from Jimma). As we inevitably got lost, it became increasingly difficult to get directions because the rural people spoke more and more Oromo and less and less Amharic. In the end we found it, but what remained of the lake was a marshy-wetland system. Still, the wildlife and relative quiet compared to Jimma were a welcomed break to my ears and we got to enjoy some bread and Nutella (gotta love those prepared Belgians) under a Warka tree. Meanwhile in Jimma, Suze experienced the emotional atmosphere of a protestant minister's final sermon. Stay tuned for that story!

Ciao,

Manny

Least Gruesome Slaughterhouse Photo