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An Ethiopian kitchen can be a place of both succulence and self-denial.

As I stand in the restaurant kitchen of Abyssinia, a popular Ethiopian eatery in Nairobi, the owner, Abebe, shows me how his cook prepares the dish called kitfo. It's raw minced beef whipped together with cardamom and chili and a spicy butter with a texture and taste closer to delicate cheese than to steak tartar.

Kitfo is actually Abebe's favorite food, but it's one he's not allowed to eat this month. The Ethiopian Orthodox Church, one of the world's oldest, observes Christmas on Jan. 7, following a calendar similar to the Coptic. The 40 days prior to Christmas (including Dec. 25) are observed with a vegan fast.

The 12 Days Of Quirky Christmas Foods Around The Globe

That usually means just one meal per day, in the afternoon or evening.

This 40-day Nativity Fast — also observed by the Eastern Orthodox Church, Eastern Catholic and Coptic Church, among others — typically prohibits meat, dairy, eggs, oil and wine. (Some traditions are ambiguous around the restriction of fish.)

The church considers refraining from some meals and some foods to be a form of purification and spiritual preparation. While the term "vegan" was coined only 70 years ago, prohibitions against eating meat and dairy for extended periods have been around for millennia. But no church has as many fasting days as the Ethiopian Orthodox Church.

Abebe says that at a time of year when others are gorging, there's something gratifying in self-denial, Abebe says. "In fact that gives a psychological edge to those of us who are fasting." And the hungrier he gets, the closer he says he feels to God.

Abebe, who like many Ethiopians goes by only his first name, has a lot of practice serving food he's forbidden to touch. The Ethiopian Orthodox Church has 250 fasting days, 180 of which are obligatory for laypeople, not just monks and priests.

During the 40-day advent fast, only one vegan meal is allowed per day in the afternoon or evening. Abebe says that he's come to enjoy that feeling of apartness. "It enables me to deal with this world. Because this world is full of challenges," he says.

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Doro wat, the traditional dish eaten in Ethiopia on Christmas Day, served with injera bread. John Elk/Getty Images/Lonely Planet Image hide caption

itoggle caption John Elk/Getty Images/Lonely Planet Image

Doro wat, the traditional dish eaten in Ethiopia on Christmas Day, served with injera bread.

John Elk/Getty Images/Lonely Planet Image

It also makes the Christmas feast, when it finally arrives, that much more of a party. The traditional dish for Ethiopians on Christmas Day is doro wat, which features pieces of meat swimming in a rich red sauce.

Unlike the doro wat eaten the rest of the year, the Christmas dish is prepared with a slaughtered rooster rather than a hen, and carved into exactly 12 pieces, representing the 12 disciples, says Abebe's wife, Shitaye. (Each wing is divided into two pieces. Those four pieces plus the breasts, thighs, drumsticks, neck and back make 12.)

Then come the 12 hard-boiled eggs, which some say symbolize eternity. But eternity is what it can feels like to make the sauce, which requires simmering down 9 pounds of chopped onion for every one rooster, with a chili called berbere. It's a process that normally takes 5 hours.

I ask Shitaye if the specialness of this dish is perhaps lost on her many Kenyan and expatriate customers, for whom doro wat is just another dinner option, instead of a long-awaited reward for asceticism.

"Yeah, if you [eat] it every day it's true," she says. Catching herself, she adds: "But our guests are very special for us!"

There are some traditions that the Ethiopian diaspora in Kenya have to miss out on this holiday season. Kenya has outlawed the sale of homebrew, so there will be no honey wine, called tej, or barley beer, called talla. Likewise, there will be no sound of children playing the traditional Christmas game of Ethiopian field hockey, or genna. Legend has it that this is what the shepherds played when they heard of the birth of Jesus. (Abebe says he used to play a mean right wing, or skipper.)

Today, however, as every day this month, they will be eating just like their relatives in Ethiopia. At 2:45 p.m., when the day's fast can be broken, Abebe emerges with a woven basket on which is laid the spongy sour flatbread called injera, with a generous dollop of a chickpea-and-white bean dish called shiro (11 ingredients, nine of which are spices). It's accompanied by scoops of lentils, kale and other greens.

We dig in, using more of the injera as knife and fork. Unlike the white injera you often find in the U.S. is made of corn flour, this one is brownish, made from an ancient grain called tef specially imported from Ethiopia.

With fasting food this delicious, you could say asceticism has its perks.

Christmas foods

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Clockwise from top left: Dr. Simi Mahesh examines a patient. A chart shows the number of abortions performed at the clinic. Illiterate patients sign the consent form with a thumbprint. Palo Khoya waits with the doctor's assistant. Poulomi Basu for NPR hide caption

itoggle caption Poulomi Basu for NPR

Dr. Mahesh prepares to carry out an abortion for Palo Khoya. "They just come because they don't want to continue the pregnancy," the doctor says. "They're not bothered whether it's legal or not legal. But we're doing awareness campaigns to tell them it's legal, it's not wrong, to get rid of the stigma attached to it." Poulomi Basu for NPR hide caption

itoggle caption Poulomi Basu for NPR

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Palo Khoya, in the operating room, explains her decision: "I got an abortion because I have two little children and I would like them to grow up a little more before I can think of conceiving again and have a third and fourth child," Khoya said. Poulomi Basu for NPR hide caption

itoggle caption Poulomi Basu for NPR

Palo Khoya, in the operating room, explains her decision: "I got an abortion because I have two little children and I would like them to grow up a little more before I can think of conceiving again and have a third and fourth child," Khoya said.

Poulomi Basu for NPR

Poulomi Basu for NPR

Dr. Simi Mahesh and Palo Khoya talk after the abortion. "I was traumatized and terrified, wondering whether I would be in massive pain," Khoya says. "The doc reassured me and carried out the abortion safely." She now visits the doctor regularly for family planning advice. "Women don't know the methods [of family planning]," Dr. Mahesh says. "So the key is educating women." Poulomi Basu for NPR hide caption

itoggle caption Poulomi Basu for NPR

Poulomi Basu is a documentary photographer based in New Delhi, India. She is part of the VII Photo Agency Mentor Program.

family planning

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Hollywood would just as soon forget 2014 when it comes to box office numbers. Despite the success of Guardians of the Galaxy, and the arrival of the final Hobbit sequel, movie grosses are off about half a billion dollars from last year. What about quality? This year's films were quirkier than usual — but still, my cup runneth over.

Usually, I'm conflicted when picking a favorite film of the year. This year, it's no sweat. I have flat-out never seen a movie that took bigger chances for more intriguing rewards than Richard Linklater's Boyhood. Shooting over a dozen years, just a day or two each year, he captured his leading child — actor Ellar Coltrane — growing from a precocious six-year-old giving his father a hard time to a young man of 18 ... still giving his father a hard time.

“ This year's films were quirkier than usual — but still, my cup runneth over.

- Bob Mondello

It's hard to overstate the emotional impact of watching someone literally grow up before your eyes. Is Boyhood stunt filmmaking? Well if so, it had some very classy competition. Director Alejandro Gonzlez Irritu's Birdman was already flying into meta territory just by casting Michael Keaton, a former superhero making a comeback, to play a former superhero making a comeback, but the director also upped the ante by shooting almost all of Birdman — including leaps out windows in fantasy sequences — to look as if the film were one continuous shot.

For pure directorial bravura, it would be hard to top Birdman, but other directors sure made a stab at it. Wes Anderson, for instance, in his delirious spoof of 1930s melodramas, The Grand Budapest Hotel. It stars Ralph Fiennes as an easily distracted concierge who romances dowagers in a resort that looks like a pink wedding cake perched atop a Swiss alp.

The film is at least as easily distracted as its concierge, with flashbacks inside flashbacks, each with its own aspect ratio, from wide-screen to basically square. Yes, Anderson's films are an acquired taste, but Grand Budapest Hotel makes clear that it's a taste worth acquiring.

Mike Leigh's exquisitely earthy biopic, Mr. Turner could hardly be more different — a muscular, artful portrait of an artist. Actor Timothy Spall grunts and snorts his way through the film as J.M.W. Turner, spitting on his canvases, stabbing them with brushes, attacking them in ways that make painting look almost like combat, but the results are incandescent: Every frame of Mr. Turner is worthy of framing.

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That's four. Other real-life figures in the year's best films include two who practiced civil disobedience while advocating for governmental change. Laura Poitras begins her scintillating documentary Citizenfour by reading one of the emails Edward Snowden sent her when he was first preparing to go public with his revelations of widespread government surveillance. "Laura, I am a senior government employee in the intelligence community," she reads. "I hope you understand that contacting you is extremely high-risk ... this will not be a waste of your time." Call that the understatement of the year. The documentary Citizenfour unreels with the intensity of a thriller.

Ava Duvernay crafted a no less passionate film: The historical epic Selma, in which Martin Luther King, Jr. organizes the Alabama protests that would lead to passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 — and that makes six of my top ten.

The next three hail from overseas: Russia's Leviathan, a gorgeously shot tragedy about a little guy battling a corrupt state to save his home. Belgium's corporate downsizing drama, Two Days, One Night, which follows Marion Cotillard as she struggles to save her job.

And Sweden's Force Majeure, about a young father on a skiing vacation who screws up and is suddenly trying to save his marriage. The catalyst in his case is one of the ski resort's "controlled" avalanches that starts to seem not-very-controlled. It comes down the mountain straight at the family, and at the camera, and — well, there's no other way to say it: Mom grabs the kids, Dad grabs his cellphone, and runs. When the powder settles, no one's hurt, but the family dynamic has been forever altered.

Another marital drama — Love Is Strange — rounds out my ten favorite films. It's an intimate story about a gay couple, an artist and a choir director, who decide to get married after 39 years together. When the choir director's church gets wind of the ceremony, he's fired, at which point the couple's finances come apart and they have to turn to friends. What looked like a new beginning in Love Is Strange instead starts to seem the beginning of the end.

That's ten, and it's an arbitrary number, so I'm gonna keep going. Two provocative war movies celebrated real-life war heroes: Clint Eastwood's wrenching American Sniper, set in Iraq, and the World War II-era The Imitation Game, about the math genius who cracks the Germans' Enigma code — leave it to Benedict Cumberbatch to make the impossible sound "elementary."

The East Indian comedy The Lunchbox struck me as the year's most savory romance. Edge of Tomorrow as its most underrated sci-fi flick — and Calvary its most intriguing tale about the search for redemption. A corrosive one, mind you, that gets under way with a startling admission in an Irish chapel's confessional.

A trio of terrific low-budget films were centered on gay characters this year — the documentary Dog, about the real guy that Al Pacino played in Dog Day Afternoon, the Hitchcock-like thriller Stranger by the Lake, and the hugely engaging labor-union comedy Pride. And speaking of engaging, you can have your animated Legos, give me Big Hero 6 and the inflatable health care robot Baymax.

That's nearly a second ten to savor as we head into the barren cinematic dumping ground the studios always make of January. Look forward to horror sequels, misbegotten comedies and with luck, an occasional gem. I can vouch for Jennifer Aniston in Cake. Here's hoping there are others.

Three years after the U.S. military officially withdrew from Iraq, 2,000 U.S. troops are back. They're restoring the old buildings they'd left behind and renewing contacts with Iraqi officers they knew before.

They're also taking incoming rocket fire at their bases.

This week began an ambitious training program to put 5,000 Iraqi soldiers through boot camp every six weeks.

“ It is a little spooky to walk out there and ... things are pretty much exactly as people pulled out.

- Maj. Patrick Kiley

Operation Inherent Resolve was designed by the U.S. to build a coalition of states to strike back against the so-called Islamic State, or ISIS, in Iraq and Syria. The operation has seen a return of U.S. troops to Iraq, mainly as advisers and trainers. Another 1,000 are expected in the coming weeks.

Many of those troops have deployed here before, and have mixed feelings about coming back to a country where America spent years at war and where many believe they had helped create a stable country.

Their commander is Maj. Gen. Dana Pittard, and one recent evening he flew by helicopter to the military base Taji, just north of Baghdad, to meet about 180 U.S. troops stationed there.

Pittard explained the strategy he worked out with Iraqi leaders against the Islamic State, which he calls by the Arabic nickname Daash.

"Phase one is degrade Daash, phase two is dismantle, which will be a counter-offensive, and phase three is defeat," he says. "But it's going to take a couple years to defeat them."

Trainers will work at five bases and work with Iraqis, mainly recruits just through basic training, every six weeks until there's enough for an offensive.

"If you look around the room at the combat patches here," Pittard says, noting the markings on the U.S. troops uniforms, "people either served in Iraq or Afghanistan for the most part."

There are some advantages to that.

"A lot of us served here before," says Col. John Reynolds. "A lot of the Iraqi generals ... the senior leaders, know us."

But for many it's surreal to be back. Staff Sgt. Marlon Daley was deployed in 2003 and 2004, then 2009 to 2010 and again from 2011 to 2012.

Asked whether he thought he'd ever be back here, he says, "I did not, to be honest."

Most say they're happy to deploy and help out, they're just sad the country unraveled. Also, since they had pulled out of these vast bases completely they're having to dig back in.

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A U.S. soldier walks through a fence on Monday at the Taji base complex north of the capital Baghdad. Ali al-Saadi /AFP/Getty Images hide caption

itoggle caption Ali al-Saadi /AFP/Getty Images

A U.S. soldier walks through a fence on Monday at the Taji base complex north of the capital Baghdad.

Ali al-Saadi /AFP/Getty Images

On another flight and another day, Pittard visits Al Asad base in the province of Anbar. Here, the Islamic State is much closer.

"Well you just missed the war a little bit ago," says Marine Maj. Patrick Kiley. Turning to a comrade he asks, "How many rounds did we take today?"

It's four, it turns out — rocket fire on this contingent of at least 200 troops in the U.S.-led coalition. Parts of the base are dilapidated.

"It is a little spooky to walk out there and just, you know whatever year we left this place, things are pretty much exactly as people pulled out," Kiley says. "So you walk in and the only difference is there's a lot of dirt on the places now."

They have been here about a month, and say they don't know how long they'll stay. A wooden building has been refashioned into a dining facility and chapel.

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"This building here has old Marine Corps stuff all over the walls that's been painted over," says a Marine named Nolan. He doesn't want his last name used in case ISIS targets his family. Inside the building are candy canes, Christmas trees and an improvised kitchen. It's almost cozy.

But indirect fire — rockets or mortars — does come in several times a week. For Cpl. Zak Taylor, it's his first time in Iraq.

"It's not too bad," he says. "You kinda get used to everything. Not the rockets, that's definitely one thing we'll never get used to."

Reinforcing structures has been a big part of Taylor's first month. Some days he spends 12 hours filling sandbags.

Many of the Americans agree the struggle against ISIS will take years and that they want to help but insist they're not here to fight the war.

"We are not going to come into this country and clear it out again," says Maj. Kiley. In reference to Iraq's military, he says they have to start learning to do for themselves.

"We'll give them all of the training that they can handle, but they have to learn to pick it up and plan, prepare, take care of their people and fight the fight," he says.

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