Addis and the Last Word

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Well spending a week in Addis Ababa was not in our original plans, but Ethiopian Airways seemed to have other ideas for us so a week it was. "Addis" as it is known means "new flower" and its location was chosen because of the natural beauty of the area which is now being eclipsed as massive development sprawls incoherently reaching out further and further from the city. With a population between 5-6 million, it is home to many non-governmental organizations where the white land cruisers with UN signage compete with the blue and white mini buses and old blue lada taxis belching out exhaust. It is also one of the fastest growing cities in Africa. As one couple we met noted 7 years ago there were virtually no high rises and now on every street corner, buildings were going up and dwarfing the slums with their corrogated metal roofs and muds walls. Real estate signs promised luxury apartments which would look down upon open sewers and the urban poor washing their clothes in the already polluted rivers.

But for now, Addis represented a respite for those who had travelled hard. With its excellent restaurants, hip coffee houses, organized and safe streets, it was a haven after the weeks of eating injera and pasta and so we dug in with gusto to its cuisine. Finding the best pizza restaurant, Effoi; Mexican Restaurant, Family Restaurant and $.30 macchiatos to die for, we ate out our sorrows every day usually in the company of fellow travellers such as Rene, our intrepid Canadian motorcyclist, and our American friends, Susan, Steve and Noah.

What the city lacked in charm, it made up for in terms of the creature comforts of home and we could understand why those on a long trip grew to love their time there. But for us, it was just a stopping place, and a place to sit and wait. We walked for hours and hours on its long streets, blocks and blocks filled with construction cranes, uneven sideways and malls where security guards padded us down before we were allowed to enter, and when we got really tired, we re-energized with macchiatos at Yeshi Buna or in the lobby of our hotel.

After a fight with Ethiopian Airways, we convinced them to send us home early with no change fee and got poised to leave Addis without our bags. It had been 7 days and we had heard nothing from the airline yet. We bided our time watching the crowds in Meskal Square, hundreds and hundreds of people in front of the large screen tv watching the soccer match at night. The roads were relatively quiet because of the lack of cars and still shepherds ran their herds of goats down the streets to the annoyance of the minibuses and taxis. It was the old and the new in perfect harmony, but for how long?

In the Merkato, blocks and blocks long, locals shop for their clothes, the only place cheap enough for them to afford. The scale of the place is overwhelming as are the crowds, especially on Saturday, the main market day. Bags and bags of donated clothing is resold for profit - a far cry from the alturistic intentions of the donors. On the streets, we were never surprised to see t-shirts saying "Vancouver Sun Run", "Montreal Canadiens", "Roots" and infinite numbers of North American universities and colleges.

On our last night we were fortunate enough to be offered the wonderful warm hospitality, typical of Ethiopians, by a contact of Kurt's, Tafese who invited us to his house for dinner with his family. And while Kurt had sworn, no more injera, we dutifully washed our hands and dug in while the aroma of coffee filled the room. Tafese lived with his family in the suburbs or what will soon be the suburbs once it is finished since it is currently just a construction site. Being middle class meant a relatively large two story house and being able to have his wife stay home and not have to work outside the home like so many others. We sat and discussed life and Ethiopia and enjoyed their hospitality while he tried to get us to stay longer.

But our minds were made up, for our last day, we went out to the University of Addis Ababa where entry meant showing your university ID card and being padded down by security guards with guns for admission and for us, having our taxi searched for explosives. A short tour through the museum which was formerly Haile Sellasie's home before it was bequeathed to the University and then a walk down to a favourite cafe in the Piazza for lunch and coffee and then it was time to return to our hotel and get ready to go to the airport and a last search for our bags.

We headed off with heavy hearts and resolve to check one last time before leaving the country. The same supervisor was on duty who had been there when we first arrived in Addis and was completely unhelpful as he was yet again saying that there was nothing that he could do. As serendipity would have it, another man was working and he asked me to describe our bags. Tired of repeating the story yet again, I told it with frustration, pointing to my handbag saying that the material was the same red when I saw a look of recognition pass his face. "Wait here", he said and ran off. We waited without hope while talking to the other worker. Naturally the manager was nowhere to be found. After quite awhile the mobile phone rang and we were told that he had our bags. We were very skeptical, having been told that before so we questioned him and he reaffirmed that they were ours. About 10 minutes later, miracle of miracles, our bags were rolling on the luggage belt while the Second in Command walked in with a huge smile on his face. I ran to give him a gigantic hug! I could not believe that our bags were actually there.

He told us that 6 days before he had seen the bags in cargo and requested that they be sent back to the Passenger Terminal since they were obviously passenger bags, but he now realised that they had never been sent. He said that when I showed him my red handbag a lightbulb went on and he remembered the bags. They apologised profusely for our problems. I was just grateful that he had been working or we never would have found our bags since the staff had absolutely no intention of sending the bags back or assisting us. Thanking them again and repacking our stuff, we proceeded to check in to fly home.

So all's well that ends well, but of course, it never should have happened. But it did and becomes part of the story and of our experience of Ethiopia which was clouded by that one bad thing.

But Ethiopia is more than Ethiopian Airways, it is a land of proud and regal people with a rich history. It is a land of tough travelling with limited infrastructure that is quickly improving, but for now will wear you out. It is full of friendly people who always have a smile for you, but will be tempered by the aid culture that has left children begging for money from you. It is a coffee culture of the best and cheapest macchiatos ever. It is cel phone crazy. It is the land of flea and bed bug bites. It is dusty roads filled with more goats than cars and mountainous landscapes and majestically carved rock hewn churches. It is women working in the fields, men on the road crews, children in the ripped purple school sweaters carrying their books home from school, neat cactus fences and tukal mud houses with thatched roofs.

But more than anything, it is a country in the midst of change. Tourism and western aid and financial backing are at the heart of the change, but it is also in the people themselves. The next decade will bring a dramatic change to the country, possibly good, or not, making the divide between the rich and poor even more pronounced. Who knows, but for sure, Ethiopia will not stand still.

I am not sure if we will ever go back, but if we do, you can be sure that all our travel will be by bus!


PS - Yes, I am actually home and can finally load some photos so please see previous stories for new photo additions! Thank goodness for highspeed internet! ; )

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Photos

Bug killer extraordinaire!
Yes, it was our daily ritual.