The issue of begging

If your heart doesn't break every day in Ethiopia, you are traveling with your eyes closed.
There is the natural beauty. There is the deep cultural heritage and history. But under it all is this constant buzz of need.

There is an entire generation of Ethiopians in the rural areas, it seems to me - those who grew up in the '80s during the famine - a segment of 20 or 30 somethings who were the recipients of those "for the price of a cup of coffee a day" efforts.
They grew up having sponsors from America and Europe, people who sent money every month.
This boost helped many to get through school and start businesses or move to Addis.
Not everyone was so lucky.
 
This is one of the poorest countries in the world.
And in every place - from the smallest village to the biggest city - there are beggars.
All day long - walking down the sidewalk, looking out the window of the stopped bus - there is someone with their hand out.
Almost every cafe with outdoor seating hires a guard with a big stick to threaten people who beg from customers. 
It's part of the reality here - morning to night - that doesn't weave itself nicely into a travel story but plays constantly in the background.
It was part of the culture shock when I first arrived.
Then, in order to stay sane, I had to shut a part of myself off.
I watch the way the Ethiopians treat the beggars. If they have coins, they give them.
A blind man comes to the open door of the bus, people give what they can. Then they help the man away from the bus before it leaves.
A friend in Addis taught me that when you cannot give, just press your hands together in a kind of blessing.

As I sat for a cup of coffee in Axum, a steady stream of people came up to me, hand out. I acknowledged every one of them as a kind of reflex with a nod and they would move on and it barely interrupted my thoughts.
When I realized it, I marveled at how the mind can adjust to anything. It integrates and accepts the unacceptable. All it takes is a little time.