Unique
Here
came the 16th country in my travels. The number holds no significance.
I only wanted to emphasize the point that I’ve been on the road for some time.
And Ethiopia was decidedly different from the African countries I’d
already visited. To put it another way, this was a place all its own, for when
the rest of the continent fell piece by piece to colonialism, the Ethiopians
alone remained independent. But it was not without a struggle. They lost their
coastal territory to the Italians and British, and later suffered the 5-year
occupation of Mussolini’s army. Yet in the end they maintained their autonomy,
and to a great degree, their unique culture and religion. For me it was an eye
opening experience. The writing alone struck me as mysterious. The Ethiopians
speak Amharic and use the Ge’ez script. The characters are little different
from those introduced thousands of years ago. Moreover, the Ethiopians never
adopted the Gregorian calendar. They instead use the Julian one with its 13
months and 8 year gap behind the Western world. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. There is a whole lot more about what
makes Ethiopia so unique.
 |
| Ethiopian Flag |
Addis Ababa
To fly in from Kenya I used
Ethiopian Airlines, the first airline in Africa. The company has since
maintained its position as the largest on the continent. The airport in Addis
Ababa was right outside the city. I called my CS host and after some waiting, I
met him at a cafe. Then we took bus after bus to his small apartment in a quiet
suburb. As always it was disorientating arriving in a new city and my host Tesfa
kindly pointed out specific landmarks so that I could later find my way alone.
We were also with his girlfriend Betty. Once I’d dropped my things off we went
for dinner. This was my first time to have authentic Ethiopian food. I ate a
kind of chickpea paste called shirow, and little fish bits in a spicy sauce. We
ate our food with a thin spongy bread called injera. It was the staple food of
Ethiopia, made from tef, a grain grown throughout the country. I washed it all
down with local beer. For 60 cents a glass at a restaurant, Ethiopia had the cheapest alcohol
on my trip so far.
I spent four nights in Addis.
That was more than enough time to see the sights. I went first to the National
Museum. In the basement I saw the impressive exhibit on human evolution. Glass
cases contained hominid fossils dating back over 3 million years, and one of
them was the skeleton of Lucy, an important find made in the northern part of
the country. Oddly, due to their strong religious beliefs, many Ethiopians
reject the idea of evolution. Yet there
was the proof for anyone to see. And at another museum across town they had
skeletons of a different kind. They belonged to people who had died during the
Red Terror. It was in 1974 when a Marxist Leninist group called the Derg overthrew
the royal family. The leader, a man named Mengistu, had the last emperor of
Ethiopia disposed of by suffocation. He also had other political enemies killed
along with anyone whose loyalty he questioned. Tens of thousands died. The Red
Terror Museum recounts this dark chapter in Ethiopian history. I knew nothing
of what had happened, so learning about it for the first time with vivid photo
displays and human remains was a jarring experience.
I didn’t do much else in Addis. I
went swimming at an indoor pool with Tesfa and his friends. Most the people
there were pitiful swimmers. I also went to the big market to look for
t-shirts. Getting around the city was not so difficult once I figured out the
bus system. But I still saw Addis as a jumbled mess. It had grown to cover several
hills in a poorly planned manner. So to me, the buildings looked like a colony
of mushrooms. They swallowed up the horizon in every direction and many of them
were shabby and rusted. To say the least, I did not like Addis. And to say
more, I thought it the worst capital city I’d visited in Africa. The people
were not all that friendly either. One guy tried to scam me by taking me to a
local bar where he expected me to pay for everyone there, and at ridiculously
high prices. I gave some money. After that the owner was still nasty because I’d
refused to cover the full amount. He accused me of being an Arab terrorist. I kept my cool before finally Ieaving the
place rather annoyed. The experience also made me distrustful of any Ethiopian
who said anything to me in the street, and even then, another Ethiopian
succeeded in scamming me in another city. I’ll get to that later.
 |
| Addis Ababa Monument |
 |
| Holy Trinity Church |
 |
| Side View |
 |
| Statues |
 |
| National Museum |
 |
| Lucy's Bones |
 |
| Red Terror Museum |
 |
| Victims' Faces |
 |
| Market Area |
To Live and Die in Africa
In total I’d only spend about four months in Africa. I wouldn’t say that is very much time to make sense of a continent.
I hadn’t even visited that many of the countries. Yet by the end of my stay I
came away with a certain understanding that Africa is not the place I’d thought
it to be. The way the West portrays it in the news, I couldn’t be faulted for
having thought it the armpit of the world. A large part of the stigma I
held stemmed forth from the 1980’s when Ethiopia was at war. The Derg
government was fighting separatists in Eritrea and the northern Tigray region,
a situation that caused severe famine. Foreign journalists went into the areas
most devastated and for the first time showed video footage of children
starving to death. The world was shocked. And one man, an Irish rocker named
Bob Geldof, was so appalled that he took personal action in 1984. Using his
stardom he brought together fellow musicians and recorded a song to raise money
for the victims. The charity event put Ethiopia in the spotlight, and the
country as always managed to find its footing. In the end the Tigray separatists
overthrew the Derg and created a new democratic government. While not a perfect
government, it has maintained order and stability until the present.
The point of this is that the
images of starving children were so powerful that they became lastingly
associated with not only Ethiopia, but Africa as a whole. The same applies to
the images of war and violence that the news has shown over the decades from
one African country or another. While not false in their reports, the media is
biased in what it presents, and it has created the belief that the norm in
Africa is suffering and chaos. This of course is not true. War and famine have
happened, but sporadically and in isolated parts of the continent. The norm is
stability. It may not be an easy existence for everyone, and for the majority
in fact, life is dependent on subsistence farming. But the people are not
starving or chopping each other up with machetes. And as Africa continues to
develop, the people in the big cities are leading lives that mirror those of
Westerners. They get an education, work a job, follow pro sports, go out on
Friday nights and so on. This adds up to normal, peaceful countries. But that’s
not to overlook those which do have serious problems. They just happen to be
the exceptions.
Now, I wanted to consider what
Africa has that the West is lacking. I’d say the family connections are
stronger. There are also bigger circles of friends. This interaction is good in
so many ways, and regrettably, many Westerners don’t get the same fulfillment
in their lives because of a diminished need for others. But there was one more
thing. In Africans I see hope. The people look at tomorrow with different eyes,
knowing that their countries are changing, and that those new things coming will make for a better place. It has something to do with their past too. A
spark ignites the African heart. It compels them forward through the
richness of each day. I can’t describe it any better. Life on the African continent
has a rhythm all its own. Oh how somber it
is by comparison in the West. I need only to think of my own society where the drumbeat
reverberates to the tune of corporate interests. America is a land full of people
working jobs they don’t like to buy shit they don’t need. I could rant for
hours about the establishment. But it’s beside the point. I just wanted to say
that in Africa people may not have so many diversions. But honestly, they don’t need
them. They have something different. From what I have seen it’s good. There’s
more social interaction--and in a way--more humanity too. Don't believe me? Take a plane over and see for yourself.
 |
| City Life |
Bahar Dar and Gondar
From Addis I had a choice--north
or south. I chose north. A bus got me to Bahar Dar on the shore of Lake Tana.
The lake was best known as the source of the Blue Nile, a river that joins
forces with the White Nile in Sudan to make the greater Nile River. All the
water then continues northward through Egypt before emptying into the
Mediterranean. As for Lake Tana, it also had islands with old Orthodox monasteries.
I signed up for a boat tour and went to four of them. Only the last was
impressive. It had a straw roof that protected the thousand year old building
beneath. The atmosphere also felt more authentic. When our tour group arrived
some locals were reading from the bible. Or rather, I should say they were
singing, because that’s how it sounded, almost like an Islamic prayer. They
were used to tourists coming and largely ignored us. So I felt like I was
seeing something traditional. The only downside was that to get from the boat dock
to the monastery, we had to pass by several gift stalls with aggressive
vendors.
The same day I visited the Blue Nile Falls. Outside of the
rainy season it was not much to look at. The water only came flowing over in twin
torrents. The dam upriver also lessened the volume. But there I was with my
camera and nothing to do but take what pictures I could. In my group came a
pair of Ethiopian women. They were dolled up nicely and quite full of
themselves. I watched as they snapped loads of photos of one another with their
smart phones. A few times I took shots of my own. In the meantime a crowd of locals had gathered.
They wanted to sell us trinkets. A few begged for coins. I ignored them and
kept taking photos. Another guy in our group was using his camera too. One of
the locals accused him of stealing a photo. He wanted money but the guy hadn’t
taken one of him. I shook my head. Ethiopians were particularly bad at
squeezing foreigners for every cent they could get. I had to say no to so many
people. But occasionally I handed over money.
If someone helped me for example.
It still irked me. Couldn’t a local just be nice to a foreigner and not
ask for anything in return? From my experience in Ethiopia that was a rare
thing.
My dealings with people worsened in Gondar. I came right off
the bus when a local guide approached me. He told me about a great hotel
operated by his family. I foolishly followed him. He then spoke about tours I
could join. One was to Danakil, a region I had it in mind to visit, and he put
me in contact with his sister who worked at the tour agency. Soon I was meeting
his friends and we were going out for drinks. I paid for everything. The guide
Babi said he would give me some of the money back. It was a lie. He was using
me like an ATM, taking out as much as he could before I wised up. It was my own
fault for having trusted him. The bastard ruined my experience in Gondar. But
he had told the truth about the tour. I’d verified contact number and email he
gave me. The tour agent, however, was not his sister. At any rate I saw the
castle in Gondar, one of only a few in Africa. It was impressive in its size
and design. Now if only I had hired a guide at the entrance. Then I would have
an idea of the history behind the stones. In Ethiopia I found that many
monuments did not have plaques that explained things. Perhaps it was done on purpose. Then tourists
would be more inclined to get a guide and therefore spend more money.
 |
| Orthodox Cross |
 |
| Tana Lake |
 |
| Old Bible |
 |
| Lake Tour |
 |
| Cute Bird |
 |
| Inside a Monastery |
 |
| More Artwork |
 |
| Coffee Receptacles |
 |
| Posing at the Falls |
 |
| Gondar Backstreet |
 |
| Babi |
 |
| Gondar Castle |
 |
| Inside View |
 |
| Upright |
Axum and the Churches
In times of antiquity when the Romans were marching along
every shore of the Mediterranean, there existed a smaller empire in the
northern mountains of Ethiopia. It went by the name of the Aksumite Kingdom.
The people thrived on trade in the Red Sea, and with their wealth the Aksumite rulers
built great monuments. Some still stand in the present day site of their
capital. Most recognizable are the stella obelisks they cut and erected. Amazingly many
remain intact. Mussolini couldn’t help taking one back to Italy with him in
the 1930s, and decades later, the Italian government kindly returned it. Elsewhere
in town were churches. The Aksumites had converted to Christianity in the 4th century and the religion spread across the region like wildfire. Islam did not
follow. After Ethiopia had given refuge to Muslims in the early, turbulent
years, the prophet Mohammed had declared that he would never attack unless Ethiopia attacked
Islam first. Subsequent Islamic leaders respected Mohammed’s decision (with the
notable exception of Ahmad Gragn in the 16th century). So Ethiopia retained its religion while Islam
took over those countries around it.
Axum’s greatest monument to Christianity was the Orthodox Church
of Mary of Zion. Built beside the foundations of Ethiopia’s first church, it
attracted many worshipers daily. After mass they circled the church three
times before dispersing. I took photos of the white robed people making their rounds. Then I went
to see another building in the same complex. This was a special building that
only one attendant could enter. He looked after the Ark of the Covenant.
According to Ethiopians, Menekil (the son of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba) had brought it to Axum after leaving behind a forgery in Jerusalem. It's a belief refuted by other Christians. But regardless, there were a lot
of people visiting the church complex. It had to do too with the build up towards Easter. The rest of
the world had already celebrated the holiday in March. But in Ethiopia they held Easter at
the end of April. Their Christmas and New Year’s also did not correspond to the
familiar Western dates. Another thing
they were doing was fasting. So they had no meat for the 55 days before Easter.
Not all Ethiopians adhered, for in Addis I’d seen people eating hamburgers and
pizza. The minority population of Muslims too could eat what they desired, pork
notwithstanding.
 |
| Bus Ride to Axum |
 |
| Trinkets |
 |
| Aksumite Stella |
 |
| Town House |
 |
| Churchgoers |
 |
| Inside Church |
 |
| Cross on Hill |
 |
| View Below |
In Axum I’d met a Swiss couple. We hired a vehicle to take
us to the churches outside the city. The churches were special because people
had carved them into stone facades. The first was called Abune Yemata. It was
high up on a sandstone cliff and getting there proved intense. We had to climb
up sheer rock walls with small handholds. I’m a bit scared of heights too. Some
locals helped us with the ascent and afterwards asked for a tip. The church was
a small cavernous room. The builders had painted religious pictures on the
ceiling and walls. Our guide explained that the figures were the apostles and
other Christian saints. We went next to another church called St. George. A
village surrounded it and locals were had at work tilling the fields in preparation for the planting season. Like elsewhere in the country they used cows that dragged a wooden plow. Next to the church we had beer with the locals. It was a disgusting
brew, flat and sour, as if someone had left a half full can of Budweiser on the
kitchen table over night. I imagined it was what the first beers had tasted
like five thousand years ago. After all, wheat and barley were the first plants
to be cultivated, and it wasn’t long after when humans had figured out how to
ferment the grains into a drink. It’s fitting then that civilization, for
better or worse, developed alongside beer.
The Swiss couple was very friendly and energetic. They’d
just begun their trip. From Ethiopia they planned to travel indefinitely. Back
home they’d saved up over $70,000 in 14 months. Split between them that was
35,000 bucks each. With that kind of money I could traveled for 3 years. It
seemed hardly fair that they could set aside so much in so little time. But
that’s how it is in the world. In some countries the cost of living is higher
and savings stack up at a quicker rate.
I suppose I was happy for them. They
were pleasant people and the company did me good. Best of all, when we were
together, their whiteness attracted the attention of the local touts. It was a
huge relief. They unwittingly served as my own personal human shield.
 |
| On the Way |
 |
| Going Up |
 |
| Local Priest |
 |
| Ceiling Artwork |
 |
| Church Entrance |
 |
| Second Church |
 |
| Swiss Couple |
 |
| Plowing the Field |
Banged Up
With Gati gone and me mostly on my own, I was feeling the
road had worn me down. My last week in Ethiopia I’d also come down with a bad
cold. I should have stopped to rest but I didn’t see how I could. There was too
much left to see and only a small window of opportunity to make it happen. So I
trudged onward in poor spirits. I’d now been traveling for 15 months. That was
far more time than I’d planned to go for. Overkill even. Why then did I continue? Well, the
world is an incredible place full of countless wonders. I had to try to visit
those places I really wanted to see before returning home. With that in mind I next went on my tour to the Danakil Depression. In the inhospitable, barren north of
Ethiopia the depression sat below sea level among volcanoes. I was in for an amazing four day
journey.
My body wasn’t the only thing giving me problems though. My clothes had become stained and faded. Even
worse was my backpack. I’d bought it in Japan from another American for $50, a
real steal if you ask me because the 55L pack was a NorthFace. But after so
much traveling it had torn in half a dozen places. Each time I’d taken it to
someone to have it patched up. In Ethiopia a tailor did the work free or
charge. It was a welcome gesture and reminded me that the locals were not all
bad. The thing was that those who spoke good English seemed to target
foreigners. I didn’t need that this late into my travels when I was worn down
from having had said “no” to thousands of people already. Some Ethiopians even
had the audacity to say “hello” with a warm smile abruptly followed by the
words “give me money.” It made me want to scream.
I think anonymity is a thing people take for granted. Rather
than embrace it most people want to avoid it. But I say, what’s wrong with
being a nobody? I miss that feeling. I miss walking around San Diego where people
don’t bother me or give as much as a second glance in my direction. On the road
though, I did enjoy a bit of anonymity thanks to my dark face. I'd written about it before when I visited countries with brown people. There were also
big metropolises where I could blend in. Yet I always had to contend with the
different culture and languages, and moreover, a general sense of confusion. It
was a constant challenge. At times I’d become empty inside and more homesick
than ever. In Ethiopia I often felt this way. However, I couldn’t have it both
ways. I remember that being in San Diego
all those years ago I was bored out of my mind. With a whole world waiting
beyond the horizon how could I content myself with one little city? I don’t
know where I stand anymore. Does the excitement of travel still outweigh the
comforts of a fixed life in a familiar place? For a little longer perhaps.
 |
| Ethiopian Coffee |
Danakil
We set off from the city of Mekele in a convoy of 4x4 Toyota
Landcruisers. The snakelike highway wound lower and lower in elevation until we
were driving through a flat, featureless landscape shrouded in thick haze. In a
little shithole town composed of branch huts we stopped to pick up a military
escort. They were a necessity because four years before Afar bandits had murdered
tourists in the Danakil area. The armed soldiers led us in their vehicle to
Assale Lake, a source of salt rock that the locals cut and carried out by
camel. As the caravans moved beside the road, we stopped for photos. I asked
our guide if the local community received any money from what we had paid for
the tour. He said no. How bizarre. These laborers were seeing droves of
tourists come almost daily. They didn’t benefit from our presence but were nice
enough to smile and wave at us. After we were done we had a party on the
lake shore with wine and spirits. I was too sick to do anything other than lie
in misery and wait to return to camp. To my great relief, one of the tourists was a doctor who had some pills that helped to suppress my fever. Who knows? Had he not been there maybe I wouldn't have made it back from the tour. I'd later buy him a beer to show my appreciation.
The second day I was not feeling much better. We went in the Landcruisers to a sulfur spring called Dallol. This was the most consistently
hot place on earth and we had to see it in the early morning before the
temperatures rose. After leaving the vehicles we walked up a hill, and at the top,
the ground took on majestic shapes and colors. The rocks were stained yellow,
orange and brown. Here and there I saw pools of carbonic water, opaque in their
greenness. Our guide led us right to the edge. In fact we were free to go
anywhere we wanted in this sulfuric wonderland. There were no marked paths,
rails or anything of the like. It didn’t seem so dangerous. Only the escaping
gases were to be avoided. The noxious fumes burned the nostrils and I stayed
downwind of the many smoking fumaroles. After about an hour we left to
drive into the lake. The water was only a few centimeters deep. We went to
where the locals cut salt. They made square slabs and loaded them onto the back
of a camel. Our guide informed us that one load was worth about 70 cents. The
poor men were slaving away in an lifeless wasteland in exchange for a pittance and in such extreme heat. I couldn't see how working could get much worse.
 |
| Just Arrived |
 |
| Magma Bubbling |
 |
| At Dawn |
 |
| Volcano Selfie |
Africa Done
In Ethiopia I’d considered staying for a month, but I left
after only three weeks. It was enough time to see and do what I’d wanted. Moreover,
I was getting tired of Africa. When I finally boarded my plane to leave, I had
no regrets, no lingering thoughts about the places I didn’t see. I was ready
to move on. New pastures awaited me in another part of the world. Besides Africa was not going anywhere. Perhaps one day I'll be back.
 |
| African Landscape |
