Ethiopia

Ethiopia


At Lagos airport, I was quite upset to have to give up (no doubt to be sold in the market the next day) an innocent little spoon from SA Airways which Margaret had given me. It was inside a plastic container of glucose and was in my small rucsac. I am all in favour of security at airports, but really would love to know that they are actually working. In my bum bag, at the same time, I was carrying a metal nail file, metal whistle, metal nail clipper set and knife with a metal blade that goes through the wooden handle and sticks out for four inches with a sharp edge and pointed tip. I had forgotten the restrictions on carrying these things and would normally have put them in my large rucsac. But the electronic screens did not pick them out and I innocently carried them through security. The Queen has the right attitude about security. If they are going to get you, they are going to get you and there is nothing you can do about it.
Security in Ethiopia is very prevalent and one is inevitably ‘searched’ when entering a building. I am used to it, but have my doubts….Dad’s metal whistle, which is quite large and all-metal, fits neatly between my stomach and upper leg when I wear my trousers. It has never been picked up by the body-searchers or metal detectors. I am sure one can usefully use that indentation if one is intent on causing problems… I watched about 3000 people being ‘searched’ when we were all entering the National Theater the other night and just thought it a bit of a waste of energy. So many bags could have held parts… But it does not stop the Ethiopians from enjoying their cinema or theatre outings. Unlike the British/USA airports which are now probably putting people off air travel altogether.
To prevent me from having to translate all the time, the national currency is the Birr (100cents) and 15Birr is equal to 1 UK Pound or 8.9 US$. In ordinary cafes a cup of excellent freshly brewed coffee (this is where coffee originally comes from!), costs 1.5Birr. Tea costs 75cents, a Coca Cola, 2.5Birr and a piece of cake 2Birr. But if you are a ‘ferenge’ (white skin), you might be charged more or some cafes have aspirations…. But let’s face it; we can afford a bit more! Entrance prices for the cinema vary according to whether a film is locally produced (15Birr) or only in English/American (5Birr). The Ethiopian cinema is alive and well and I have seen some excellent films.
Having crossed the continent from west to east, it was a pleasure to arrive in Addis Ababa and experience the high altitude (2.500meters) and clear air. They say it can take up to three weeks to acclimatize. It is the rainy season, but there are generally only short bursts of heavy rain. I deliberately refuse to carry an umbrella as it gives me a chance to shelter in a doorway where I would never otherwise have stopped. Thus I can talk to people and it works out well. On the second day here, at about five in the afternoon, I was going to the cinema when the rains came down. I chatted to a young man and he told me that it was Haile Selassie’s birthday and that the family was gathering for a celebration that night. Would I like to go along? What a great opportunity! Although it was early, it was OK to go to the house, so we got a taxi and arrived at a house where some young girls were already in the mood and dancing to loud traditional music. They were very sweet and I chatted to them through one who spoke quite good English. We discussed the types of dances, the traditional dress from the various regions and the studies they were undertaking. I danced with them and they showed me how to do the amazing shoulder-shake which is part of their routine. As the Ethiopians are thin and tall, they do not have so much bottom, but even in their dances, they can match the West African ‘bum-dance’ (called Apalogo in Ghana) and the head-dance is something to be seen to be believed. The head is rolled and the hair goes flying and you think the two will be severed from the body during a very active dance. I bought the young man and myself some of the traditional Ethiopian ‘mead’ drink and later, after they had done the whole coffee ceremony for me from the roasting and grinding of the beans to the brewing and ceremonious pouring of this wonderful dark liquid which originates in this country, I offered to buy the girls some drink too. Four more bottles. I was told a bottle costs just a bit more than a coke. Two hours went by and we all seemed happily awaiting the other family members, when the man who had served the drinks, came in to say that he was going off duty and could I please settle the bill now. 420 Birr. It was only the equivalent of 28 pounds sterling. Scam!!!! Only then did I realize that I had been the innocent victim of a scam which I subsequently found is very common (OK, I do not have a guidebook in which it is described). Being a big lady, I rose to my full height from the cushions by the wall and loudly proclaimed, “This is OUTRAGEOUS!!!” He replied, “You can pay in dollars if you do not have Birr”. I just rose even more and with an even louder voice told him that I refuse and he can have 10Birr for the coffee and my drink, but that is all. And I marched out. I think they were a bit stunned and one of the girls ran after me in tears and repeatedly said, “I am sorry”. So I got out of that scam without too much loss of face or money, although I fear a more gentle stranger would have been intimidated and paid up. This is what happens to hapless men in Soho in London, so nothing new.
I walked home to my modest hotel with its row of rooms overlooking flowers and shower/toilet around the corner. I’d been there two nights and was happy. I asked the receptionist at the desk to give me 500 Birr from my kitty in their safe that night as I paid for another night. One of the permanent residents is a (very rich, according to the staff) middle-aged woman who could be speaking quite lucidly one moment and then suddenly walk off in a huff or get aggressive. Next morning I went off to have a shower without locking my door and when I returned, my purse had been neatly emptied of its contents. How stupid can one be?! We knew who had done it, but I accepted the situation and asked for 500 more Birr from the safe. I was off for my first day at work.
That afternoon, maybe a bit tired from the unaccustomed discipline of sitting down and enjoying the company of a small office, I walked down the road to get a taxi-bus back to the hotel. It was rush-hour, so I patiently waited and then decided to get my taxi-fare ready. The purse in my hand was very firmly and accurately grasped and a supremely attractive young man just sprinted off amongst the traffic across the road into the alleyways. I forlornly tried to follow but obviously could not keep up with the famed Ethiopian physique. And it did not occur to me to bring out Dad’s whistle in my pocket; exactly the reason why it always lays there. A very kind lady, who witnessed the incident from her car, took me to the police station and after many minutes of confusion and paperwork, it transpired that the incident had taken place in another police precinct. The fact that the man had crossed the road into their area of authority, did not count. I was finally driven to the other station by them and the two police stations’ personnel had more talking to do. It was interesting for me to see how they operate and the buildings they occupy; do not ask about the toilets!!! (In the main police station in Lome (Togo), they slept/ate in the main charge office, so one cannot be surprised). We ended up by going to the scene of the crime. It was dark and for ages I sat in a vehicle watching eight policemen with guns hang around. And hang around. I was finally put in a taxi after 2 1/2 hours. There was no way that the youth would be caught, but they had to go through the motions…
So that is the story of my 24-hour crime wave. Now I carry less money less conspicuously and look into the eyes of passersby. And since then I have only had kindness and friendly help.
Ethiopia is famed for its ancient history. It is mentioned in the Bible and features in the stories of the Queen of Sheba and the Axumite Kingdom and is seen in the remains of ancient Orthodox Coptic churches and monasteries. All these mentions are brand new compared to the fact that modern mankind’s ancestors (Homo Idaltu - meaning ‘elder’) came from the rift valley system 100,000-300,000 years ago and that the skeleton of ‘Lucy”, the oldest known humanoid to walk on two legs (3.5million years ago), was found here and is displayed in the National Museum. ‘Lucy’ was discovered in 1974 and given her name from the Beatles’ song, ‘Lucy in the sky with diamonds’. I never knew that. See what travel does to the mind!
With nine museums to explore in Addis alone, you can understand that I was hungry for some ‘culture’ after the lack of accessible history in West Africa. But it does not mean that all displays in the museums are to the standard we in Europe and the USA are accustomed. There are still glaring omissions and dirt and decay to contend with (but not as bad as in WA museums…). I was amused in the National Museum here by the oft displayed notice: ‘Shooting all works of art with a flashlight is not allowed’. However, the thing that has delighted me is to find that the locals are very keen on the theatre and cinema. There are four cinemas and three theatres within walking distance that I know of. Fortunately I can usually find someone to go with me to translate or the film is in English or subtitled. And Traditional dance does not need an interpreter. Once only, before a performance, I heard an announcement with the word ‘mobile’ in it. Not that it puts anyone off keeping their mobile telephones on. In the dark auditorium on can constantly see flashes like blinking stars as their owners check the time or the name of an incoming caller. They happily chat to whoever has ‘phoned or they themselves have contacted. Once only so far have I seen a cinema usher remove a man who had been on the ‘phone constantly throughout the film. The audiences are enthusiastic and cheer and clap when the man and woman finally kiss or the baddy has had his come-uppance. During dance routines they clap and stamp with the music and I find myself doing the same.
Another place where I really let my hair down and jumped up and down with the crowds was at an inter-African football match between Libya and Ethiopia. It was the first of the season. Someone from the office had asked me if I was interested and we met 11/2 hours before the match was to start. Those 90 minutes were as full of entertainment as the match itself. The warmer-uppers were dressed in colourful costumes (often the Ethiopian flag of green, yellow and red) and they all had their stands to enthuse against the others. They were full of the most amazing contortions and dances and the responses from their crowds matched them in inventiveness. My companion is a loyal follower of the local St George Team. St George is also the Patron Saint of Ethiopia (England, Turkey, Portugal…) and the match was being played in their stadium. It is the largest in Addis and the owner is Sheik Mohammad Al Amoudi (‘long may he live’, as the large banners around the stadium declare). When the teams stood for their National anthems, the Libyan one went on for so long that the 40,000-strong crowd began to slow-clap it. The very small supporters’ stand must have felt humiliated. Then we waited for our National Anthem to begin. And we waited. And we waited. And we waited. Someone must have lost the tape because the crowd eventually began to sing it themselves. However, they were interrupted as the game had to start for the sake of the TV audience. Thank goodness we won 1-0.
Sheik Al Amoudi is the 46th richest man on the planet, I am told. He has Ethiopian origins but has made his money through Saudi oil. Not only does he own the National Stadium (which he is rebuilding), but he owns vast tracts of land and buildings in Addis itself. A massive glass skyscraper has recently been completed at the bottom of the hill and he is developing a very large tract of land a block away from my hotel. This is the centre of the old town and it will have a very large supermarket and all the other things which go with these developments. Sadly, the run-down but human character of the area will change, although a small men’s clothing shop owner, with whom I chatted whilst avoiding a rainstorm, told me that he thought it would do his own business good as many people will avoid the hyped-up prices. I hope for his sake that is true. The building most associated with the Sheik though, is the Sheraton Hotel. It is about 5 years old and its luxurious opulence has to be seen. It really is one of the greatest hotels in the world. The swimming pool snakes amongst the foliage and can give one good exercise without one having to make a turn. At night the place lets me down although it no doubt attracts the lovers of Disney or Las Vegas. Bright coloured lights blink and flash continually from the vast building and the elaborate gardens and parking lots. One has to get used to the fact that there are thousands of beggars with appalling homes or shacks or streets to sleep in whilst thousands of dollars are spent in a second in this place. I have to go there to use my Visa Card to get my dollars/Birr and thus justify the use of their toilets.
The sheik is also the owner of Pepsi Cola. This drink is not quite as popular as Coca Cola, but if you are given a free refrigerator, you are not going to object. Except that, if you will not easily be caught out (as we found in the hills above Addis) you will stock it with Coca Cola. Because Sheik Al Amoudi supports the current government, he is not popular with many and I have witnessed people refuse a Pepsi when they have asked for a Coke.
Addis was established just over a hundred years ago amongst swift-flowing streams and on hills just south of the Entoto mountains where the original royal town was. But the climate is better, water is plentiful (except in my hotel, but that is another story) and there are hot springs for one’s enjoyment and relaxation. One of the original but still very presentable hotels has a very large swimming pool complex where, for a relatively modest charge, one can swim in the warm, sulfurous water. There are also traditional hot baths where the locals go. The high altitude makes for clear air to breathe and I feel very healthy here. Although the temperature is cool and I have had to buy a cardigan, I sleep with my French windows wide open. Soon the ‘winter’ will be over when the rainy season stops. Funny to think that we are in the Northern Hemisphere, yet, when the rest of the northern world is enjoying summer, we are having winter.
When Addis Ababa (originally sometimes spelt Abeba) was laid out, straight roads divided it into squares or followed the contours around the rivers. The hilly bit where I stay was the ‘centre’. Between the broad streets were little ethnic villages with broad paths which have stones laid like cobbles. Although they are not as smooth as cobbles, they are roughly passable and occasionally a car ventures down one. At least this means that the roads are static, whereas the roads in West Africa were all make-shift and totally impassable and full of holes or stones and detritus.
My guilt at not giving alms has not been resolved. So many people are constantly bombarding me for alms that one has to be circumspect. Here at work (Habitat for Humanity Ethiopia) we have a very strict code of not giving anything but one’s labour and I am glad to adhere to it. But it does make living in Addis very difficult. I have never seen so many beggars. Whereas everyone in West Africa (always take this with the pinch of salt it deserves---I am only speaking of my very limited experience there) was seen to wear plastic shoes and the washing of clothes was obsessive, here I am suddenly confronted by barefoot people and very dirty clothes. The colder weather means people being wrapped in tatty blankets and huddling against buildings. The ‘hovels’ some have constructed against walls, are ingenious but humbling. And these plastic and stone structures are not just in the main roads; if you venture into the side streets (the way I found HEHE offices when I offered to work for them on the spur of the moment), you can glimpse the most varied structures where one just does not want to believe that actual human beings live. Poverty was not as blatant in India when I saw a bit of that country. Having flown from countries where clean feet are an obsession, I now recoil from the dirty feet and all the illnesses and deformities one cannot imagine. Sarah in Lagos was going to go north as part of her remit to assess the spread of Polio there in the mainly Shi’ite area. When the WHO (World Health Organization) had just about eliminated polio a few years ago, the local mullahs prevented further inoculation and the disease has spread once again. I think something similar probably happened here in the north-eastern area of Ethiopia, as I am told that most of the deformed beggars come from there. Or at least form the rural areas. But maybe I am wrong, as I have not seen young deformed beggars, so the disease may have been halted. But what one does see, is lots of little boys all over the place. There are a few who hang about near my Hotel and I occasionally give them an orange or banana or small bar of soap from the hotel, but others who do not know me, will persist in asking for 1Birr, just like the many women with small children and the very many blind and crippled adults. Early one morning I watched a Muslim shop-owner who had just opened his shop, come to the doorway with a handful of small coins which he then handed out to the gathered group of beggars. That may be one way of doing it.
It reminds me of my stay in Mopti in Mali. We would eat by the roadside and soon there would be a gang of little boys with empty tins standing behind us. One does not finish a large plate of food and once one’s hunger is sated, one gave the half-eaten plate of food to a boy who would promptly empty it into his tin and return the plate to you. I asked about these boys and was told that, contrary to what one thinks, they are not homeless, but have come from the countryside to learn the Koran. They are given sleeping quarters by the Mosque, but must beg for their food. I still have to learn to live here in Ethiopia with this ever-present problem.
However, one must not forget the opposite side of the coin. There is a lot of money around as well. The tickets to the New Year Festivities (7th Sept. according to the Ethiopian calendar) at the Sheraton Hotel were 1000Birr each and the place was packed with thousands of customers! The majority of ordinary people do wear shoes! They are generally leather ones as well. This is the time of year when the very many small shoe-shine boys are extremely happy. The rain and mud everywhere causes shoe-wearers to constantly have them cleaned – whether it is to have mud removed from their shoes and muddy trousers with the dirty water from the boy’s plastic container or to have a bit of shine with polish. Hides are one of the country’s main exports and during on of my rain-shower stops, I entered a shoe factory and was shown some very well made all-leather shoes. They are exported to Italy, so when you praise Italian shoes, you might be talking about Ethiopian-made ones.
I suggested to the very accommodating staff at Habitat that I find a hotel closer to the office. They suggested the Taitu. As I have not read the travel guides, I did not realize that it was where I should have been in the first place. The backpackers’ heaven! It is the first hotel to be built in Ethiopia. When king Menelik 11 and his wife, Taitu, moved down into their new town with its hot springs at the end of the 19th century, they encouraged governmental visitors. But accommodation was scarce and thus the idea of a hotel was born. It was inaugurated in 1907. The king came to stay and pay in order to encourage others in this new practice. Today the hotel shows its age but manages to function in a way. There are two restaurants and one can watch TV in three lounges and outside, the cascading gardens have chairs and tables. Many clients are tourists on a small budget. I love the old wooden interiors and its air of age. My room is on the first floor in one of the four separate blocks from the main building and although I have a basin, the toilet and shower are down the passage. But the room has French doors which face the setting sun and open onto a large wooden balcony. It overlooks a car-parking area with buildings beyond. A new 7-story building is being constructed to the south-west and partly obscures the sunset, but I love lying in bed in the morning to watch and listen to the sounds of the workmen beginning at about 7am. One can see them clambering all over the silhouette of the rickety scaffolding and hear them give instructions. This is two hours after the muezzin has called the faithful to prayer and the many different birds (whom I have naughtily encouraged with crumbs) start their chorus. I would not change a thing.
The first day I took up the room, the cleaning lady, called Tsehaye (meaning ‘the Sun’) was there to welcome me. Poor woman did not know what hit her! For 1.5 hours we cleaned the room and brought in a carpenter to release the large 3-drawer chest of drawers. The cleaners generally only wipe the floor and make the bed, so the idea of wiping above the door and cleaning the walls of finger-marks, was quite foreign to Tsehaye. Or maybe they are just paid so little that it does not matter. But the group of cleaning ladies is a very cheerful lot and we are now firm friends. Every day they have their communal lunch on the floor at the end of my passage. I had a bunch of flowers which I had brought from my previous hotel. These were soon in a plastic bottle and Tsehaye was so pleased with this that she immediately went out into the lovely, slightly neglected garden and brought me more! Since then I have always had three ‘vases’ of fresh flowers; on my chest of drawers, my table and my bedside cabinet. And having a decent reading lamp is the epitome of luxury! Every day my bed is made with fresh linen sheets and a fresh towel and soap/toilet paper distributed. Compare to many a concrete floor-bed in West Africa! I do not use all the soaps, so have been giving them to beggars. You can see that I am very happy with my room, although this part of the hotel suffers from water shortages and one does not always have cold running water. I bought a bucket and bowl for clothes-washing and when there is no cold water, I run off the boiling hot water and add cold from the large bucket the women always leave in the shower room. Thus one manages. And when I feel like it, I can go to the main building for my showers. I mention all this because the cost of the room is only 46Birr per day!
At ‘work’ for Habitat for Humanity Ethiopia I have been updating the Manual which is sent out to potential volunteers. This has involved many hours at the Govt. Statistical offices, pouring over all kinds of heavy-going charts and dry summaries of statistics and projections for the future. Each one, when I query the findings, comes up with slightly different figures and it was a minefield to negotiate! But I have also had to learn the history and customs of the people of Ethiopia and still hope to go to the various sites where houses have been constructed. It will also be a pleasure to help build, although there are no projects planned for the near future. I was invited to meet a returning group of volunteers from Northern Ireland at their farewell dinner and their enthusiasm for the work was very infectious. The office has kindly included me in their activities and at this moment I am groaning with a full stomach after one of their regular staff meals in a traditional restaurant. I have also redesigned their little publicity leaflet, but as both projects await official approval, I am work-less and they have kindly allowed me to type my blog in the office. Hence all this endless chatter.
One of the staff members, Rahel, has a brother who is a student of Tourist Guiding. We meet every Saturday and ‘do’ things. It is fun and I am glad to have an interpreter with me. We end up by going to the cinema in the evening and his translating skills are well-used!
Despite the promise of better internet facilities in the country (and on dare not say too much about the present government which has all the opposition leaders and journalists in prison), the service is very slow. It has been impossible to open my blog in order to put stuff on it or, despite the attempt, the typed stuff has not been printed. So the office here has kindly let me type this and then send it as an attachment to Ingrid’s email address. I hope she can transfer it. Well, if you are reading this, she has managed it!
If all the above seems negative, don’t take notice…. This city is so vibrant and the people so kind that it is a pleasure to be here. I have not regretted my decision to stay here for a while for one minute. If you can afford the time and money, do visit! And I will happily be your guide.