i told you i’d make every gore post a song lyric.
so after six weeks away from masha, i really just wanted to get back home for a bit, and what i really wanted to do was relax with a good book.
what i did to make that happen was sit on a bus that took aaaaages to get to metu (and cost way too much… or so i thought), and hoped for a decent transfer to gore, and then to masha.
so when we arrived in metu just in time to catch the last mini-bus to gore, then to gore just as they were closing the doors to a late bus to masha, i didn’t have time to look that gift horse in the mouth.
so how’s life back home in masha?
i sat under no less than two other people, with my bags being used as a seat for numerous others, and my legs crooked and stuffed into whatever space was available, then themselves used for support, of what i don’t know, there were too many people on top of me to really see what else was going on on the bus. despite the bus being this packed, the driver didn’t shy away from picking up every single person he spotted hitching on the side of the road.
even for the masha stretch of the jimma loop, this was ridiculous; first to get a bus this late (it was after 5 when we departed, and most busses to and from anywhere leave by 5), and second for it to get this packed and then some. as i would later come to find out, however, it was not without good reason.
i did eventually make it home, less the feeling in my legs, though by that time, i would have given up my opportunity to sit on my bed and read until i fell asleep to have spent the last three hours in gore with chels and jess, and taken a more comfortable bus in the morning.
but… be careful what you wish for. sometimes someone is listening, and they take things too literally.
when i got home, i opened my door to a total disaster area.
noci’s food dishes were full of some goopy slime that couldn’t have been edible food at any recent time, there was dirt and poop smeared all over my floor, the walls had been torn up at the base, most of my posters eaten or clawed to shreds, and noci high tailed it out of there as soon as he saw daylight… or nightlight as it were, because it was night by the time i got home, and the power was still out in masha, so the possibility of reading comfortably was out as well.
later that night noci returned, and within a few hours, for some reason or another, he was essentially paralyzed from the neck down.
what the hell happened here?
i leave for six measly weeks and the whole operation is in shambles!
as the days passed, and i eased back into my life in masha, noci slowly by slowly got better, though not after soiling just about everything i sleep on, leaving me to get my z’s in an old sleeping bag i inherited from nikki, and i was informed that the entire staff of the woreda electric department had been fired and new staff was rehired under the auspices of a total power grid revamping.
blow me down if it didn’t work.
the power in masha has been bordering on decent of late, though the network and water are now looking a little shaky, and with the recent government price fixes there are days when there isn’t even a place in town to get a cup of tea (that is defcon4 out here, believe me. if ethiopia could evacuate itself, colt 45 would have worked every time along time ago), let alone something to eat at a café, and once i was told, “soda? there’s no soda in masha anymore. there’s no soda in ethiopia.”
also thanks to price fixing on transit, and gasoline, drivers can’t make enough money to turn a profit, so they have been forced to cut back on daytime runs, and begin clandestine night drives, which are frightening when the roads are such as they are out here, and no one seems to understand what headlights are for. if you get a day bus, often times, you are forced to argue over the price, as the change (if you are due any) is usually written on the back of your ticket, and paid back when you near your destination, but these days, the ticket is often given without the change written down, and no matter how fast you catch it, once it’s in your hands, it’s a battle to get the porter to admit that you have any birr coming your way. normally this would be a dick move, restricted mostly to sleazy jerks, but these days, there is no honest way to make a living in the transit business.
how’s life, you ask?
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stay tuned for our next episode:
we have visitors? that’s gotta be a mistake.
easy listening: black rebel motorcycle club : ain’t no easy way out