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Published: January 14th 2010
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Local laundry
Washing clothes in Lake Tana, Bahir Dar At 4:30am I hop aboard one of the steady stream of buses flowing out of Lalibela. After about three hours we stop. Apparently there is an important church located nearby and our pilgrim packed bus must take a break here. I walk along with the throng of people but, reaching a good vantage point, I see that the church is in fact on the other side of an enormous valley. That's two too many joint jangling descents and two too many agonising uphills for my liking and when a local gleefully informs he that it's a three hour round trip my decision is easily made. I trudge back to the bus. It's five hours before the last old grandma hobbles back on board and we get moving again, the whole bus bursting into song as we set off.
The road to Bahir Dar is probably the worst yet. Bouncing along we pass two overturned bus carcasses by the side of the road. One fresh casualty and one old, stripped bare by scavengers, like the skeletal remains of a beached whale. This is not an uncommon sight and I have yet to make a bus journey in Ethiopia without passing at
least one (usually considerably more) accident or breakdown. Further on I notice two tank husks, rusted almost beyond recognition; no doubt red-brown relics of resistance and repression under the Derg twenty years ago.
I am pleased to be in Bahir Dar, surrounded by greenery - Lake Tana is the first proper body of water I've seen since the Nile at Khartoum. Feeling the need to stretch my legs the morning after the trial by bus I set out to explore the lake shore. I follow a water-front path for a while before continuing through small villages, simultaneously attached to yet seemingly distant from Bahir Dar, and past plenty of qat plants - the Ethiopian equivalent to strolling through abundant fields of marijuana. Eventually the full force of the midday sun descends on me and I feel my legs getting heavier. My grumbling tummy seals the deal and I retreat into a cafe where my order of "fraid egg" is welcome sustenance. The sounds within betray a great Ethiopian passion... Shania Twain.
After one full day it's on to Addis Ababa, my longest bus journey in both time and distance so far (although assessing your travel by distance is
a redundant concept in this country). The name translates as 'New Flower' but it is neither new - founded over 120 years ago by Menelik - nor much of a flower. In my wanderings I do see a fair amount of greenery but most is fenced off; probably the preserves of the political elite only. After the orderly layouts of Sudan I also notice that its back to the Spaghetti School of street planning. The city is the fourth largest in Africa and widely recognised as the continent's diplomatic capital. I use this to my advantage, sorting out a number of boring but necessary chores, mainly visas, money and post. In between I manage a couple of decent museums and cathedrals. It is a fun(ish) and functional stop.
The area I stay in however is not particularly pleasant. A tourist hub, the Piazza is overrun with prowling parasites. I have experienced plenty of hassle in Ethiopia and the vast majority is fairly harmless. However, my patience is tested more than once by the young guys who float around all day waiting for targets to wander within range. All claim to be students, demanding money for books or food. They
Local Bahir Dar bus stop
Pepsi seem to be the unofficial overlords of Ethiopia. If only Carlsberg sponsored the buses instead... follow you and simply will not take no for an answer, refusing to acknowledge anything said that they do not wish to hear. On my first day, when I am still inexperienced enough to be cordial with such people, one guy follows me all the way into a restaurant (something that happens twice more during my stay) and, as I eat, orders himself some food. I pointedly say that I will not pay for him, but when the bill comes he claims I have invited him in and it is my obligation to buy him dinner. He comes out with the sob story that he will be carted off to prison if I don't help him, then becomes quite aggressive. Eventually I give up trying to reason with him and just walk off, a luxury he does not have with the irate manager on his back. The next day I see him again in the street (prison eh?) and he again throws a strop, telling me, with no hint of irony, that I am a very bad person and should be ashamed when I look in the mirror. I am unsure as to the point of abusive tirade and can't
figure out if it's just for show or if he's genuinely convinced himself that a terrible injustice has occurred. Eventually my outwardly calm, passive demeanor and the realisation that I really won't give him any money causes him to storm off, though not before threatening to fight me if we cross paths again.
That evening I am firmer with another leech as soon as he begins his solicitation for money. My reward? Another tantrum and a couple of F-bombs hurled my way. You just can't win.
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Lucy Spark
non-member comment
Hello
Hi Chris I'm glad you are getting on so well and you are doing a great job of sharing it all with people. Your photos are so interesting but hard to imagine though without all the sounds and smells as well. We missed you at Christmas - looking forward to seeing you when you return. It's been very snowy here - school was even closed for a day which was nice! take care Lucy xx