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Published: November 5th 2013
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Addis Ababa
view from my hotel balcony Welcome back I walk out of the plane to bouncing metal steps leading down to the tarmac and as I take in the view, two pied crows fly overhead. And I know I’m back in East Africa. A surge of excitement courses through my tired, bedraggled body. I will have to count on these second (third, fourth, fifth…) winds to carry me through this long day.
I’m in Addis Ababa, on the first day of a week-long sojourn in Ethiopia on the first group trip of my life. I’m traveling under the auspices of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC) in a program called Entwine which seeks to encourage young professionals (like myself and my twenty-some-odd hand-selected compatriots) to become more involved in JDC’s humanitarian endeavors. I have certain wishes for this trip but few expectations. I am open to what will unfold, with my group, with myself, with JDC, with this country, new to my eyes.
There are low mountains beyond the smudged city sprawl and a feeling of blue and green lushness despite the motley buildings. I cannot wait to explore more, see how this place differs from my still-vivid memories of Kenya, the people,
Constantly building
The scaffolding is bamboo...which somehow is not reassuring for safety concerns the lifestyles, the wildlife. (Though I doubt I’ll see much wildlife beyond birds since we’ll mostly be in cities and human-dominated landscapes.)
I think I am already in an African mood. Or the ideal traveler’s mood. Nothing is really upsetting me, the lack of sleep (3 hours over the course of 20+ hrs in the sky), the painfully long delay in getting our bags, the 1.5 hr break in our hotel that magnifies into nearly 3 hours as rooms are still being cleaned. I barely even notice the time slipping by. Instead I focus on my group members, trying to memorize names. And I focus on people’s faces and clothes, noting the differences in skin tone, facial structure, and fashions from Kenya. And I try to catch the lilt and rhythm of Amharic, the national language and one with which I am certainly unfamiliar. I resolve to learn a few words every day and am quickly dismayed by the fact that “thank you” is a six-syllable string of sound (“ahmesugenalew.”) But I can get hello at least (Salaam!)
We’re staying at the Desalegn Hotel. It’s as posh as I’d anticipated with marble floors, modern white molding, gold accents
Art at the National Museum
Example of classic Ethiopian art and white, thickly plastic chandeliers. I would have been surprised had the group coordinators placed us in a backpacker’s hostel. Frankly, I’d prefer something a little more downscale, to save on cost and perhaps get a little more down to earth clientele. But then again, I don’t know what the scale of hotels are in this city. Perhaps it goes from “posh” straight to squalid. Again, I accept and go with the flow. I find space within the flurry of our group (and within myself as I explode my careful packing system to find clean clothes and shower items) to remain excited. And dog-tired, watching, waiting, gently drifting.
Getting our feet under us We convene for an introductory session where each group member introduces his or herself with a fun fact. I warn my group that I will be ridiculously excited about birds and they must bear with me. In fact, I know I’ll have to temper my bird-watching. Wildlife viewing is not the point of this trip. This one is much more human-focused than any I’ve ever been on. We are not a super diverse bunch (not in general demographics at least), mostly American, ages clustered in
Empress' old bedroom
A gown and portrait of Haile Selassie's empress the 20’s but with a good enough sprinkling of 30-somethings to bring the average up nicely, well educated. Business folks, medical professionals, entrepreneurs, and a few scientific researchers. All driven to give, to change the world.
We hear from the JDC Country Director Manlio Dell’Ariccia and JDC’s famous Dr. Rick Hodes. Both men have spent multiple decades working consistently in Ethiopia and have great insight into not just JDC but the country as a whole, cultures, politics, economics, etc. While I know we are all interested in what both men have to say, I notice that others in the group are trying very hard not to nod off. Our break for lunch comes in the nick of time. We pile into bus-taxi’s reserved for us and finally head off into the city. I’ve been anxiously waiting to plunge into Addis since I caught the glimpse of it at the airport and then viewing it from above on the hotel balcony, drinking in the cacophonous mishmash of walled-off residential homes, posh hotels, buildings with seemingly permanent bamboo scaffolding, corrugated, brightly-painted tin. This whole city has an air of constant change and movement, not even near completion but just having started.
Public hospital
Where Dr. Rick sees patients once a week Despite it having actually sprung up in the late 1800’s at royal behest.
On our way to lunch, we get our first solid look at Addis city life. Women with babies strapped on their backs (wide-eyed and frowning in intensity) ask us smilingly for alms, and I see how uncomfortable that makes several on the bus. I realize I have no Ethiopia birr to give. Like Kenya, the shops and stalls are mostly constructed of rickety wood and corrugated tin and brightly painted. The streets are alive with pedestrians and those who seem to be milling about are just as common as the purposeful striders. Unlike Kenya, the shop signs here are not painted onto walls but seem to be pre-fabricated. Also unlike Nairobi, this capital seems much less metropolitan with fewer distinctive sections. Instead the same unzoned “neighborhoods” seem to sprawl in every direction.
After lunch (at a Westernized and removed-from-the-hustle-and-bustle restaurant), we split into two groups and alternate between the National Museum and one of Dr. Rick’s clinics. The National Museum is ensconced in the campus of Addis Ababa University and situated in the residence of the mid-20
th-century Emperor Haile Selassie. I don’t absorb much because
Jonathan, Sophia, and Dr. Rick
Just FYI, Sophia will be undergoing surgery to correct her spine soon. She lives at one of Dr. Rick's houses with her mother since they're from a very rural, far-off village of our rush other than the fact that the museum varies between well-curated and interpretative displays (lengthy to a fault) and then displays with zero explanation. Our next stop is the anteroom of a government hospital where Dr. Rick occupies space once a week to give free care, mostly to children. He has brought one of his nurses and three patients to speak with us. We sit on dilapidated wooden benches where paint peels off in the corners and the walls thickly press into this windowless area. Conversation is stilted as most of us have little idea where to begin or what questions may be appropriate. I watch Dr. Rick instead, this no-nonsense, distracted and intense man. Despite his removed demeanor and purely clinical discussion of the horrific back deformities he seeks to diagnose and then correct (through surgeons’ help), this is the man who owns four houses in the city to provide space for his orphans or far-from-home patients. He gently tugs at the ear of the 9-year-old Sophia with her pointed face and large eyes, body bent forward and to the side with the extreme curvature of her spine. This man had frankly told us he’d adopted his
Shabbat at Dr. Rick's
Funny hats are a gentle requirement for menfolk (to cover their heads) first two boys to provide them with his medical insurance so they could get surgeries.
After we break back to the hotel, I become entranced with my 8
th floor private balcony. I can hear birds everywhere and street noises of individuals passing under. The city is certainly not quiet but without the incessant roar of highways, I can hear more than just cars, unlike any U.S. city I know. I doubt most country capitals could boast this auditory intimacy. I watch urban hawks circling and skimming, even landing on balconies to preen and cast a predatory glance over their domain.
Tonight is the beginning of the Jewish Sabbath (Shabbat) and we head to Dr. Rick’s for Shabbat dinner. Happily, his house is only a couple of blocks away. The house has a large wall and two silent dogs that watch us without interest. A dozen Ethiopians await us inside, standing to shake hands, some eagerly, many shy, especially the girls. The plain walls are decorated with Jewish Ethiopian art and seating (couches and a dining room table) constrains easy walking space. Eventally Dr. Rick arrives without announcement but the room quickly shapes into a circle. Holding
Shabbat at Dr. Rick's
Circling up and posing for photos to sing in the Shabbat hands, we start singing, and then Dr. Rick blesses the children, 15 or so in total. They bow their heads, these Muslim and Christian Ethiopians graciously accepting an American Jew’s blessing. The night is full of mingling and eating, constant chatter, little groups in a slow, steady social dance, changing topics and partners. I cannot imagine a better way to welcome in Shabbat or start a journey.
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