Fardaa Ferenj

2 October 2012

My friend Bayu is a man of many professions: tour guide, environmental activist and fish farmer; today he added to the list with “hydropower installation consultant.” With this new task he invited me to go with him and his friend Sultan to Bucha, a small village south of our town. I said yes, mostly because his invitation included the words “we will go by horse.”

For a brief while I took weekly horseback riding lessons when I was in middle school. I mostly remember cleaning the hooves and brushing the horse. All of that preparation seemed to take longer than the time I spent actually riding the horse. Well in Ethiopia, it’s the other way around. The saddle blanket is often a goat skin (fur side up) and the saddle is wooden. Once that is set up you just jump on top and go!

There have been a few times in Ethiopia when, being the token ferenj, I’ve been called on to mount a horse. These old men have just wanted a good laugh to brighten the afternoon, and I’m obliged to do it because I love every opportunity to ensure them I’m not incapable or intimidated. Today no one laughed or stared, they just assumed that I knew what to do, so I played the part, or tried to.

 “B, move the rope like this to get it to turn,” Bayu as I sat on top of my saddle, flailing my legs confused about the next step.

 “B, we must move quickly or else the rain will catch us,” Bayu moving his horse behind mine to encourage it to speed up.

“B, are you okay?” Bayu staring back at me from ¼ km. ahead.


 “Welcome back B, I’m happy you will join us now.” Bayu, after I caught up after being slow the entire trip.

I spent the day sweet talking my horse, rubbing my hands against her strong shoulders as her brown velvet coat warmed in the sun. I called her “momma” because her son was with us, and she had a 3 month old baby at home. Not wanting to whip the horse, we rode along slowly, she found her own route most of the way and I enjoyed the scenery. Instead, I dubiously admired the leather whip, which I was told had been made of hippopotamus skin.






Once at our destination, Sultan’s house, Bayu quickly determined there was not enough of a slope for a hydropower project to be effective. So they discussed this further, and I wandered finding orchids in the trees, colts galloping across vivid pastures and wondering if PC will allow me to buy a horse and move myself to the country. We visited Sultan’s garden where I gave a brief apple tree pruning 101 training and the ole’ “did you know you can eat beet greens and they will help your children grow tall and strong” lecture. We hung out there for less than 10 minutes, but afterwards it was enough for me to consider it a productive work day. Inside Sultan’s gojobet (traditional home) we talked about how he can make solar lights from water bottles and that cooking smoke related illnesses are the #2 cause of deaths in Africa, mostly among women and children. Now I was really feeling like an engaged PC volunteer!!

We ate “gunfoe” for lunch, it’s something like bread dough that hasn’t baked, with a large depression in the middle that is filled with butter, rancid butter that is. It was served in a tall, round piece of wood that a bowl was carved out in. One of the spoons we used was carved out of an ox horn and we were given sour yogurt to drink. There was a lot of arguing over who wasn’t eating enough and that they should eat more.. NOW! This lunch exemplified Ethiopian culture at its best.

Sultan's gojo bet

We rode back after lunch, the sun was hotter, my horse was faster, my comfort increasing and it wasn’t too long before we were back in Adaba. What a great journey to break up the week. Lessons learned: I should find more reasons to get into the country and ride horses.

The grazing fields of Bucha. These kids live to far from a school
to go and their parents prefer they help with the livestock.