The search for a more permanent place to stay goes on. The place we are in, Bmore Hotel (the owner lived for a number of years in Baltimore in the US), is perfectly satisfactory but expensive and we would also prefer something a little out of the centre. To date we have seen 5 or 6 places, one very promising but the rent is a bit high, so perhaps we can negotiate. We shall see. We have determined on an apartment rather than a house because we will probably we away travelling from time to time, and in our absence we would have to employ a security guard.
As part of this search we spent Sunday afternoon with my friend Sonja and her husband. I knew Sonja in South Africa back in the 1990s. She married Gabri, an Ethiopian, and moved to Addis where she works for a German development NGO. We (Ursula and me) decided we would try out the city’s over-ground rail system and take the train out to meet them at the station at the end of the line, near where they live.
We expected the train to be relatively empty on a Sunday morning. It was packed. By packed I mean like sardines in a can. I boarded the train with my cell phone secure in my bag, which I clutched possessively the whole way and a little camera in the top pocket of my denim jacket, securely buttoned down. When we alighted at the end of the journey, I found I had neither. I still do not know how either was “lifted”. Annoying and frustrating to say the least, but a lesson learned.
The best way to get to know a town I think, is to walk as much as possible, at least at the beginning while learning the city’s geography. So I walk as much as I can, to the nearest supermarket, 30 minutes’ walk away, finding the cell phone shop to replace the one stolen. Slowly I am beginning to understand the layout of the city and finding shortcuts to where I want to go.
A fairly typical roadside coffee shop in Ethiopia selling the traditional coffee or bunna in small, espresso like coffee cups.
Of course, there are the usual street vendors selling fruit and vegetables laid out on scrappy bits of tarpaulin; there are dozens of shoeshine “boys” mostly around the 18 to 25-year age group. I have one near the top of our street where I regularly get my shoes cleaned. He is around 20 years old, thin, but not malnourished (how accurate are perceptions?) with an open cheerful face. For the princely sum of 10 birr (the Ethiopian currency) he polishes my shoes to a mirror finish. (10 birr is approx. 30 – 35 US cents). I have tried to find out his name but his knowledge of English is, unusualy, rudimentary and my knowledge of Amharic is no-existent.
Another common source of income for dozens of small boys (and a few small girls) is weighing you on bathroom scales on the street. You know the sort, a glass plate with a digital read-out. For this you pay 1 birr. Remember there are 30 birr to the US dollar. And everywhere there are the beggars; young women breast-feeding infants, the elderly, men and women, the crippled and the blind.
And then there are the schemers. Walking about I am constantly approached by young men asking how I am, how I like Ethiopia, where I am from, how many children I have, do I want to exchange foreign currency etc. Normally not too much of a problem, but occasionally there are the persistent ones who give the feeling that they are after more than conversation. They seem operate in pairs with one approaching you with a jacket over his arm (they are always male) asking if you want to buy it, with his partner sandwiching you from the other side. As you say “no” they get more and more persistent in their harassment. The other day one of them took hold of me by the arm. Those of you who know me will know that almost never raise my voice in anger. This time I did, halting and shouting at him to let me go and not to hold my arm. My shouting also drew the attention of a passing, large, man who said something to these youths and they left. It was not the first time this had happened to me but they were the most persistent and the first to get that reaction from me.
I find the worst time for being approached like this is in the middle of the afternoon, so I have taken to doing most of my walking in the morning. The streets are less crowded then, but nevertheless I do find it a bit exhausting keeping a wary eye out all the time. In spite of all this I do enjoy my walks, most people are really friendly and smiling and unfailingly polite. Of course, it also depends where you walk. There are a large number number of banks, all with armed guards outside, most big junctions have police and even lorry loads of armed soldiers, and almost every shopping centre, hotel business centre etc have their armed guards on the pavement, so that I can feel relatively safe in those areas.
VW Beetles are ubiquitos in Addis but this one, belonging to the owner of our hotel is the best we have seen. An early 50s model, or perhaps earlier, with a small, split screen, back window.
Addis is crossed by a number of 3 lane double carriage ways. Except that the inside lane is used for taxis stopping and for parking. Leaving only 2 lanes. No problem. It is always possible to add an extra lane so that a 3-lane road becomes, in effect, 4. And of course it is perfectly legal to overtake on whatever side you like. But drivers are polite and considerate slowing down and stopping, if necessary, for pedestrians, or today a legless man crossing the traffic, walking on his hands, and three lanes of traffic just stopping to let him through.
The traffic looks chaotic at first, but you soon realise that most people are driving very carefully and considerately. They allow other drivers to cut in front of them, give a little toot to warn other drivers they are coming through, but very little aggressive hooting. Wonderful. If only more drivers around the world were like this. The other day I watched a teenager shepherding his flock of 25 – 30 goats across 6 lanes of traffic (3 each way) at rush hour without a single driver hooting as the goats filtered between the cars with the shepherd using only his whistle and thin stick to keep his charges under control.
Sorry for the lack of photos in this blog, but the loss of our palm-sized camera has made taking photographs difficult as I do not like to take my Nikon out onto the street as yet.
Best wishes to all,
Chris and Ursula