let me tell you about my day.

I woke up and took 3 beer bottles back to the lady in the shop – she gave me 30birr back and I felt like quite the guy. look at me! I can both pick out the best Ethiopian beer [there's quite a few to choose from, actually] and even know how to get some pennies back.

jumped online to make sure I hadn’t been awarded some sort of prize and then said hi to ______, my contact at ______ [we'll keep both names out for obvious reasons]. he was optimistic which made me optimistic. if they wouldn’t give me the permit at the Ministry of Labor, then I could try the Ministry of Communications. and if not them, then the Ministry of Immigration could give me a business permit which I could then take to the US Embassy who could facilitate the application – not the acquisition, mind you – of the filming permit.

all of this to work for free? helping NGO’s who have all jumped at the idea? yes. to both.

so optimistic was ______ that he even had a driver take me to Ministry #1 in a nice white Land Rover [all NGO's here have nice white Land Rovers - soap in the bathrooms? no. but nice white Land Rovers] – oh, it was to be a good day, I thought, riding in the back and pleased that I turned down the free coffee which has proven to be good, but, well, restless.

- The Ministry of Labor:

‘you must have a visa to apply for a filming permit. but it will be difficult, with the upcoming election, everyone is nervous of outsiders’.

‘no problem!’ me, still chipper from the optimism of ______, ‘but I’ll be working for free? do I still need the visa?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘who knows?’

‘I don’t know.’

[this was to go on, in different forms for about 3 minutes, finally, a man in line behind me told me that the Ministry of Immigration, so off I went...not as chipper, but still chipper enough.]

Ministry of Immigration [after a stinky 40-minute wait]:

‘You must have the working visa before you come to Ethiopia, why did you not do this before?’

‘I don’t know’ I said, the chipperness now turning into something…less chipper. ‘I just want to help, is there any way I can get a visa just to volunteer?’

‘yes! no problem.’

‘here?’

‘no, out of Ethiopia.’

fuck it – if there’s one people pragmatic to a fault, it’s us Americans – we have answers, we know ways, if there’s not a way, we’ll tell you, but there’s always a way.

not at lunch, though, and of course I got there 10 minutes before lunchtime. and Ethiopians, like all countries with gorgeous cuisine, don’t dick around with lunchtime.

so I sat across from the embassy, eating my $0.80 injera and laughing at the men who wanted to beg me for money, but openly admitted that anyone loitering outside the embassy walls were ‘photographed and then questioned.’

a sandblaster held by a man intent on letting you know he was sandblasting blasted all the dirt off of the street - and onto anyone walking by. it was so strong it blew a kid over and I would have felt bad about this had it not gotten dust in my 7-up. I took a few photos of him but was kindly reminded by the guard who came running across the street that photos outside the u.s. embassy probably weren’t a good idea.

I drank my dusty 7-up in silence.

back to the embassy.

they let me go first in line, bless them.

I walked up to the window, the only window that wasn’t packed seeing how this window was for Americans. see? we get shit done, in order – no matter where we are.

‘let me call a guy’ the friendly blonde-haired kid from Iowa winked.

he had a guy! told you – we’re pragmatic.

‘my guy says that no way can you get a visa in Ethiopia. and probably couldn’t get a filming permit, there’s an-’

‘election, yes I know. so I’m screwed.’

‘no!’ [pragmatic] ‘all you have to do is fly to Kenya and wait there a week while it processes!’

‘funny you should mention that, I’m also here about a loan to get back to London.’

‘ah. okay, fill these out’

and with that, he hands me 8 pages of some of the scariest messages you’ve ever seen.

I’ll refrain from listing them all, let’s just say, they really mean it when they say ‘last resort’.

‘I couldn’t get you to London anyway, what we’d have to do  is called ‘re-expatiate you’, meaning we buy the next ticket, around $2000, and then basically take your passport, giving you a new one to fly home one, but not use again’.

which means I just don’t know what to do.

it might be a flight back to London, and then trying to sort it out from there. with how much the umbrella NGO said they were spending on one film, paying for my flight back would be nothing. but there’s the permits. and the upcoming elections.

but on the flip side, I just got here. I’ve got loads of ideas. a friend was coming to meet me. I only got a taste of you, Africa!

oh, adventure, you wear me out.