Settling In

It's my fourth day in Addis and I think I may have finally beaten the rotten jetlag and adjusted to the 8,000 foot elevation. Getting used to the country itself will take considerably longer. Mindy says there are some things you just never get used to.

Most of what I've seen outside the Beetham gebi (compound) has been through the car windows as we've driven places. But even that little is difficult for me to describe. For one thing, how does one describe a place so stereotyped? Yes, there are rough roads and beggars and dirt and slums. But this brief sketch doesn't begin to capture the place's complexity, or for me, its total foreignness.

The rough roads are traversed by numerous taxi cars and vans who don't seem to follow any rules of the road that I've ever heard of. It's defensive driving to a level undreamed of in the states. The fact is, although in driver's ed you may have learned to expect the worst from other drivers, you still expect some form of logic and self-preservation. Other drivers may be aggressive, stupid or careless, but usually their actions make sense from some psychological profile. Not so here: people will drive unsafely even in ways that don't benefit them and could easily result in their death.

This situation is further complicated by the hordes of people who line the street, walking, buying, selling, and living on the curbs. Many will step right into traffic, even in front of an oncoming, fast-moving car. Mindy says this is due both to the Marxist training from an earlier regime (you are just as good as the rich people, so they should be able to wait for you) but also the vast majority have never driven a car, so they don't realize that cars can't stop instantly. Seasoned missionaries say "If you haven't hit somebody yet, you will." Did I mention the herds of donkeys, goats and cattle that vie with the cars for space on the street?

If you can get over the crazy traffic, it's fascinating to see what people have in the shops that line the streets: fruit, used clothes, dog collars and chains, gum, coal, cell phone cards, pottery, baskets, tomatoes. Yet this environment, a quaint curiosity to the tourist, can be overwhelming to the missionary here long-term, and even though I will only be here a month, I'm experiencing my share of "cultural stress." It's an inevitable result the fact that things are different in the host country, from something as huge as the language or cultural norms, to as trivial as the unfamiliar type of light switches, or the brands of food available at the market. Or the fact that I can't identify the breed of noisy, vulture-like birds that caw outside my window each morning or distinguish the Muslim and Orthodox calls to prayers.

I am not sure yet what I will ultimately learn from this visit, but so far, I am impressed by the sacrifice it is to go overseas, period. Regardless of what other challenges await on the individual mission field, the very act of leaving home, the familiar and safe, is a difficult one, which requires bravery and faith.