Tag Archives: Ethiopia

Makeda For The Win

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Don’t tell anyone that Makeda was one of my favorite students in my Fall 2024 First Year Writing Seminar.

In large part, because she was from Gondar, Ethiopia. As if our Ethiopian connection wasn’t enough, she was super diligent and hyper intelligent, both academically and interpersonally. As a result, she elevated every class discussion by picking her places to make extremely thoughtful contributions. She dug the course material and it showed.

I’m worn down from having read thousands of first year essays, and yet, I always looked forward to Makeda’s. A superb writer with mature insights that belied her age.

So I was happy to get an email from her today asking if I would edit her nursing school admission essay. As I suspected, the essay didn’t really need anything apart from massaging a few phrases.

But it left me with a familiar dilemma. I’ve had the good fortune to teach several Makeda’s from near, meaning mostly Eastern Washington, and far. Students who are the “first in their families” to attend university. Students who are motivated by their families sacrifices to excel. Students who do excel relative to their peers.

These Makedas almost always aspire to the helping professions, teaching, nursing, social work; because, I think, it’s as ambitious a future as they can envision for themselves.

And of course, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a third grade teacher, or registered nurse, or social worker. “Absolutely nothing wrong” is a poor way of putting that, more to the point, there’s everything right with choosing those professions.

Still, I get this nagging feeling that inspired me to write this to Makeda just now when I returned her barely marked essay.

“Excellent work Makeda. You will sail through. Trust my few suggestions came through, if not, let me know. Only question I have is whether you might make even more of an impact as an MD. Either way, I’m excited for your future. Ron”

I have no doubt Makeda could excel in medical school and in practicing medicine, just like I have no doubt that my Makeda’s who plan to teach K-12 could pursue PhD’s and someday replace and exceed my university colleagues and me.

Maybe I’m projecting a superficial impulse that mo’ status is mo’ better? An obviously problematic premise.

I just don’t know if Makeda has considered the possibility of becoming a doctor, thus my nudge. I would love to turn her life upside down with that suggestion.

Either way, she’s destined to flourish.

Postscript. The reply.

“Thank you so much for your kind message and encouragement! I really appreciate it. I received your comments and suggestions and will do my best to adjust accordingly.

I also wanted to thank you for your thoughtful comment about the impact I could make as a physician, it really encouraged me! God willing, I do have a plan to pursue an MD in the future, and I was wondering if you think it would be a good idea to mention this in my last essay.

Thank you again for your time and support!

Makeda”

Postscript 2. Anyone who has ever uttered the phrase “shithole countries” has never met a Makeda.

Sometimes

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Sometimes you get an amazing student from Ethiopia by way of Turkey. Who says he’s never been asked to be introspective or write personal essays about existential questions. A student who explains that where he comes from people are preoccupied with food, shelter, and clothing. That there’s no context or momentum for what I’m asking.

Maslow and all.

He’s quiet in class. As in silent.

But, as it turns out, he’s listening closely and reading with an open mind. And oh, what a mind. As a result, he takes to being introspective like a duck to water.

And so he writes personally and beautifully about his family’s struggles and his own in a way that belies his youth. And starts to think that maybe he can help Ethiopians, and others in developing countries, start thinking about existential questions in ways that will benefit them.

A computer science major with serious math chops, he asks to talk after class.

“How can I improve?” I tell him, “Keep doing exactly what you’re doing—reading our texts closely, being introspective, and writing honestly about what you’ve overcome.” And “don’t deprive us of your insights during class discussions.”

He doesn’t think other students will relate to or understand his experiences since they’re so different. I suggest he might be surprised by the exact opposite, that they’ll be especially interested in his life experience because it’s so different.

He smiles at the thought and commits to contributing more. Meaning some.

I tell him he’s talented, that he could be a writer, that he has unique and compelling stories to tell.

And then, he says it. “I want to be a writer.”

My guess, he’ll travel the world; knock the technology ball out of the park; and become a popular, widely read writer.

To have played a small part in his journey is pretty damn cool.

Sifan Hassan Is Fine The Way She Is

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If you’re ever in a race with Hassan, you better damn well drop her before the final 400 meters. Or you’re toast.

120 mile training weeks in the lead up during Ramadan, meaning no water or food during daylight, is inconceivable.

Her first marathon after dominating on the track. Afterwards, she was asked if she’s the best ever. She said, “No.” The followup, “What do you need to do to be considered the greatest of all time?” Hassan paused, and said, “I don’t need to be the greatest ever, I’m fine the way I am.”

Fireworks on the men’s side too. Kipchoge has a peer. Kelvin Kiptum ran the second half in 59:45 to finish in 2:01:35, 16 seconds off Kipchoge’s world record.

A Balm For My Cynicism

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If I could press “rewind” and stop the tape of my life halfway through 1990 when the Good Wife and I were leaving the International Community School in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia to begin my Ph.D. program at the University of Denver, we may have taken second international teaching gigs somewhere else in the world. And then a third. And then a fourth. And then a fifth just like some of my Addis Ababa teaching friends did.

If I was younger and there was more demand for C-list bloggers, I’d move to Canada. Or some other less violent, less divided country. Where the quality of life is noticeably better.

To which the deluded “Greatest Country on Earth” people reply, “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

I concede, pessimism is a downer, but I think of it more as realism. The “Greatest Country” contingent is living in the past, unwilling or unable to rationally assess the numerous ways our quality of life is declining.

And yet there’s at least one thing that gives me genuine hope for a decent future. Loving parenting of small children.

I see it most often in the YMCA locker room. Sometimes at Vic’s (Wildwood) Pizza. I’m constantly seeking it out because I can’t get enough of it. It’s damn near the only balm that does anything for my chronic cynicism.

Since it’s the male locker room, it’s almost always dads, sometimes granddad’s. Sometimes white dads, often dads of different ethnicities. Sometimes middle class dads, other times working class dads. Most of the time I can’t see the father and children because we’re in different rows, so I just eavesdrop. Nothing soothes my soul like listening to a dad talk to his two, three, four year-old daughter or son as if they’re just small adults. Respecting their intelligence, knowing they will rise to the level of their expectations.

Often, that respect is coupled with a beautiful mix of patience, gentleness, and kindness, a trifecta that gives me confidence that those kids will be more than alright, and that collectively, we will too. I have no doubt the same thing is playing out in the women’s locker room.

What if we collapsed all pressing public policy questions down to this one: How can we make it easier for parents to love their children unconditionally? How can we design policies that make YMCA membership feasible for everyone so that children can take swim lessons, and families can swim together, and older kids can play team sports?

At the same time, let’s acknowledge the endless forms family life takes. No form is better than another. The only thing that matters is loving parenting. Parenting marked by respect, patience, gentleness, kindness. I suspect, if we get the parenting of young children right, like so many of my fellow YMCA members do, we’ll be alright.

Thursday Required Reading

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Harvard first year becomes youngest person ever to serve in Icelandic Parliament. Extra credit if you can spell her name.

Kohler can now run a bath with just a voice command. Need.

Forget giant asteroids, the Doomsday Glacier is coming for us all.

Next up in Ethiopia. Deepest bench in the world.

Sign of the apocalypse.

Wednesday Required Reading and Listening

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  1. The public library is open and freely available to all. Imagine a world in which the Billionaire Boys’ Club invested in public libraries instead of space travel.
  2. Does Ethiopia have a future? Things are looking more and more dire by the day.
  3. Being kind to yourself. 
  4. A 100 year-old priest was nudged from his parish. He has no plans to retire.
  5. ‘Dormzilla’ at University California, Santa Barbara. A good problem to have. 

Rest in Peace Hachalu Hundessa

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Hachalu Hundessa, 34, known for political songs that provided support for the ethnic Oromo group’s fight against repression and a soundtrack for antigovernment protests, has been shot dead in Addis Ababa.

The killing has “risked heightening tensions in a nation taking stuttering steps toward establishing a multiparty democracy.” August elections have been “postponed” due to the pandemic.

Hundessa’s songs mobilized millions of Oromos across Ethiopia.

“On Tuesday, news of Mr. Hundessa’s death led to protests in the capital and other parts of Ethiopia, with images and videos on social media showing hundreds congregating at the hospital where his body was taken.

Internet service across the country was shut down at approximately 9 a.m. local time, according to Berhan Taye, an analyst at the nonprofit Access Now. The move, she said, ‘is simply driving confusion and anxiety among Ethiopians and the diaspora’ especially as they seek ‘credible, timely information” at such a time of crisis.'”

Hundessa’s importance:

“Haacaaluu has given sound and voice to the Oromo cause for the past few years. His 2015 track Maalan Jira (‘What existence is mine’), for example, was a kind of an ethnographic take on the Oromo’s uncertain and anomalous place within the Ethiopian state. This powerful expression of the group’s precarious existence quietly, yet profoundly, animated a nationwide movement that erupted months later. Maalan Jira became the soundtrack to the revolution.

It is beautiful.

Sentence to Ponder

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Monday’s London Marathon.

“Kipchoge used a 4:26 25th mile to break free of Ethiopians Mosinet Geremew, the 2018 Dubai champ, and Mule Wasihun, last year’s Amsterdam runner-up in 2:04:37, and went on to win his 10th straight major marathon in 2:02:37, lowering his 2016 course record by 28 seconds and running the #2 time in history in the process.”

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