I reckon that one of the most common phrases in our language must involve the word 'tea'. "Shall I put the kettle on?", "Fancy a cuppa?", "Make a brew" we say, and do it without much thought really, some of us continually throughout the day.

I reckon that one of the most common phrases in our language must involve the word 'tea'. "Shall I put the kettle on?", "Fancy a cuppa?", "Make a brew" we say, and do it without much thought really, some of us continually throughout the day.

When I first started doing these blogs in January I'd just left Ethiopia for India, well, I'm back, and have just spent the day in the Rift Valley, in a small village where we've been running a trial for several months now. We've been trying out a new pack saddle, nothing fancy, nothing clever, it's just a hessian sack, some straw, and a bit of string woven into a strap. The materials are all available in the area and cost virtually nothing, normally.

This village is a bit different, here making a cup of tea involves a 10 mile walk, over a lunar landscape, in blistering heat, to queue for several hours with hundreds of others to fill your two 20 litre cans, load them onto your donkey, and return home. Of course that's not just so that the old man can have his cuppa, there is no other water, not for humans, animals, crops, nothing. And the same goes for materials, even the straw, which is normally easy to find is in short supply here.

If these people's donkeys get a back sore what do we say? "Apply this ointment and rest it for a month" really isn't a lot of use to them, hence the pack saddle. Well, the trial started in November last year, and they love the saddle. Several were worn out by now so we decided to see if anyone wanted to learn how to make them for themselves. Immediately we filled our list with 10 candidates, and promised to return the following week with some tools and materials. I think in fact that we trained nearer 20 than the planned 10 people as there were two or three people working on each saddle.

OK, I know we are there to help the donkeys, but I hope you'll allow me a little lee way here. I get a kick out of helping the people as well, for instance, we had one guy with a badly twisted leg. He's highly regarded in the village, as a capable man, who does a lot of odd jobs around the peoples houses, but now he knows how to make something else that he can sell, maybe that will save him and his family from going hungry sometime, and of course, the ultimate beneficiary is the donkey.

But I think the ones that got me were the families. There was one woman who no one seemed keen to help, but she was joined later by her kids, and they made their saddle together. Another similar scene was a father and son team, and yet another that struck me was the man who laid aside his automatic rifle and picked up a needle. If a few more people did that I thought, the world would be a better place

These trials have been done in about 20 villages in this region, and has been a great success. One woman told me, "Chris, the saddle is comfortable for my donkey and simple, I'm happy". Out of the two hundred odd donkeys using them we've two, I think, with slight sores. We've now moved the trial out to other regions, and training is underway to allow anyone who wants to learn how to make the saddle to do so, and they do want to learn, every time I sit down and do a repair, or start to make something I get a crowd. For a while I'll ignore them, then just look up, catch some one's eye, give them a grin and offer them the work. They nearly always take it and have a go, and we're off, the ice is broken, the jokes and micky taking start - best bit of the job.