It didn’t actually hit me that I was in Africa until we left the Addis airport and it was sunny and cool. I was so excited to see the people and what they were doing through the windows as we drove from the airport to the hotel. It hit me again that I was here when a group of us left the hotel to wander the streets.
There were lots of half finished buildings and some huts made of garbage and sticks woven together. There were several streams which were covered in garbage; some people were doing laundry in them. There were tons of goats and donkey being hurded all over the road. Every time we stopped at a street corner we were surrounded by street children who would follow us. Most made gestures that they wanted food, and one boy tried selling us boxes of tissues. When we didnt buy them he sang songs hoping for a tip. It was one of the saddest things I’ve ever seen. I didn’t give them anything, because I’ve been told if you give one anything they will all follow you until you leave the city. There were lots of shacks along the roads selling toilets, lights, and garbage cans and buckets, but I only saw one person selling food.
This morning I woke up with a headache and a nose bleed. I think it may be from altitude/stress.