There is a certain amount of time that we spend here doing things that are purely bureaucratic. There is nothing unique about these tasks, because I imagine they are the same everywhere. If I take a step back, I can realize how unimportant these tasks are. However, when in the midst of a bureaucratic job, there is nothing more important. This was the case involving our quest to Awassa in search of the elusive Five-Year Agreement.
The Five-Year Agreement (FYA) is a document that outlines what our organization has done and will be doing in the next few years. It has to be reviewed and approved by varying levels of government. Once completed, we have the authority to proceed with the same activities we have been doing all along (as dictated by our previous FYA).
When we arrived in Ethiopia, we were told that we would soon be going to Awassa to get our clinic license and to sign the FYA. Now this is an important detail, because without a clinic license, we cannot get a pharmacy license. And without a pharmacy license, we cannot buy medications from wholesale pharmacies. Since medications are a vital part of our clinic operations, this Awassa trip was very important. And to add to this, is the part about malnutrition supplies. For some other reason we can only get supplies for our malnutrition program in Awassa.
For the past three months I have been hearing all about Awassa (pronounced: a-Wás-saaaaaaa!). I was told it is a big, beautiful city next to a big, beautiful lake. I learned that Awassa is the capital of our region, and as I mentioned earlier, where all of our clinic problems would be solved. But in addition to learning that Awassa was some sort of Eden, I learned that it was very hard to get to – both physically and bureaucratically.
Our former project director, who started about a year ago, arrived with the same mission of going to Awassa, but due to countless obstacles from lower government offices, was not able to do so. About a month after we arrived, our organization’s president arrived. We were told that as soon as she gets here, we would go to Awassa to get the FYA signed. But it seemed like the more we pushed to get things done, the more resistance we faced. Eventually, things got done, supporting documents were signed, and last week David (the new project director), our pharmacist, the general manager, and I ventured out to Awassaaaaa!
The trip to Awassa proved to be as challenging as everything that preceded it. About an hour into our 13.5-hour trip, the fuse to the windshield wipers and speedometer burned out. This was only a minor inconvenience, which we resolved two hours later with a new fuse. That afternoon, we got the first of two flat tires. Fortunately, we keep extra tires on the roof, and then when we got to the next big town, a team of tire repair guys patched up both tires for the equivalent of one dollar.
Ten hours into our trip, we finally reached paved roads. It seemed as though everything would be smooth sailing from that point on, but due to a miscalculation in distance, we ended up driving in the dark for an hour and a half. Driving at night on a paved road is no problem – if you’re the only one on the road. In Ethiopia, you have to share the narrow road with people, animals, and slow moving carts. This meant several near misses, including one donkey that came within two inches of its life.
Fortunately, we arrived to Awassa in one piece, although dirty from the dust that comes with dry season and the changing of tires. I was somewhat pleased that our trip was so arduous. For me, it made this Awassa adventure all the more special. Awassa turned out to be a very pleasant city. The lake was pretty; diesel engines where partly replaced by swarms of bicycles; and the weather was comfortable. Of course the FYA was not signed, but we did get malnutrition supplies and our pharmacy license. I even got the haircut I’ve been trying to get for the past four months. On our way back, we decided to take a more conservative route, which passed through bigger cities (in case something else happened). This time it was a 14-hour trip over two days and we only had one flat tire.
The Five-Year Agreement (FYA) is a document that outlines what our organization has done and will be doing in the next few years. It has to be reviewed and approved by varying levels of government. Once completed, we have the authority to proceed with the same activities we have been doing all along (as dictated by our previous FYA).
When we arrived in Ethiopia, we were told that we would soon be going to Awassa to get our clinic license and to sign the FYA. Now this is an important detail, because without a clinic license, we cannot get a pharmacy license. And without a pharmacy license, we cannot buy medications from wholesale pharmacies. Since medications are a vital part of our clinic operations, this Awassa trip was very important. And to add to this, is the part about malnutrition supplies. For some other reason we can only get supplies for our malnutrition program in Awassa.
For the past three months I have been hearing all about Awassa (pronounced: a-Wás-saaaaaaa!). I was told it is a big, beautiful city next to a big, beautiful lake. I learned that Awassa is the capital of our region, and as I mentioned earlier, where all of our clinic problems would be solved. But in addition to learning that Awassa was some sort of Eden, I learned that it was very hard to get to – both physically and bureaucratically.
Our former project director, who started about a year ago, arrived with the same mission of going to Awassa, but due to countless obstacles from lower government offices, was not able to do so. About a month after we arrived, our organization’s president arrived. We were told that as soon as she gets here, we would go to Awassa to get the FYA signed. But it seemed like the more we pushed to get things done, the more resistance we faced. Eventually, things got done, supporting documents were signed, and last week David (the new project director), our pharmacist, the general manager, and I ventured out to Awassaaaaa!
The trip to Awassa proved to be as challenging as everything that preceded it. About an hour into our 13.5-hour trip, the fuse to the windshield wipers and speedometer burned out. This was only a minor inconvenience, which we resolved two hours later with a new fuse. That afternoon, we got the first of two flat tires. Fortunately, we keep extra tires on the roof, and then when we got to the next big town, a team of tire repair guys patched up both tires for the equivalent of one dollar.
Ten hours into our trip, we finally reached paved roads. It seemed as though everything would be smooth sailing from that point on, but due to a miscalculation in distance, we ended up driving in the dark for an hour and a half. Driving at night on a paved road is no problem – if you’re the only one on the road. In Ethiopia, you have to share the narrow road with people, animals, and slow moving carts. This meant several near misses, including one donkey that came within two inches of its life.
Fortunately, we arrived to Awassa in one piece, although dirty from the dust that comes with dry season and the changing of tires. I was somewhat pleased that our trip was so arduous. For me, it made this Awassa adventure all the more special. Awassa turned out to be a very pleasant city. The lake was pretty; diesel engines where partly replaced by swarms of bicycles; and the weather was comfortable. Of course the FYA was not signed, but we did get malnutrition supplies and our pharmacy license. I even got the haircut I’ve been trying to get for the past four months. On our way back, we decided to take a more conservative route, which passed through bigger cities (in case something else happened). This time it was a 14-hour trip over two days and we only had one flat tire.
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