Perdido Por El Mundo: Ethiopia - Addis Ababa and Salayish

Finally, I am near a computer again and can do a blog post!

I've been in Ethiopia about three weeks now and my first impression was that the plane had touched down in Tullamarine; there were lots of gum trees and the type of dry, summer landscape you see around Keilor. About 100 years ago, one of Ethiopia's emperors realised that gum trees were good for firewood and he bought a heap of different types over here and now they are everywhere.

If you live more than 5kms out of town, this is your taxi. (Gum trees in background).

My first ten days I spent in Addis, surrounded by lots of gorgeous, bootilicious, blinged up Ethiopian women with enough chemicals in their hair to run a nuclear power plant. I wanted to take some photos of them but I was too scared to because if they saw me they'd have slapped me. These women have attttttiTUDE...kinda like this...

(I didn't take this photo but it's pretty typical of the street fashion here).

The most recent prime minister was married to a woman who was a resistance fighter and he used to give speeches about how Ethiopian men need to respect women, but that he had no choice with his wife because she knew how to shoot. I think the women in Addis have whole heartedly adopted the prime ministers message, you wouldn't be dissin' those women in a hurry! In the countryside, which is 90% of the country, I think it's a different story.

Addis grocery store

Typical building in the old part of Addis.

I had a fairly eventful first few days. I spent one night, accidentally, in a brothel, because the place I was staying in was booked out and the brothel was masquerading as a guesthouse. (Apparently this is quite normal in Addis, places function as both.) It seemed very quiet and peaceful, but that was during the day! DOH!

I spent one night there thinking "don't touch anything" (it was filthy as well), then I went back to my first guesthouse where I had to share the room for a night with a humorless phone technician from NZ. In the morning I was lying in bed with an ice pack on my head, exhausted, and discovered he was not only a humorless phone technician but a proselytizing Christian humorless phone technician with a captive audience.

He stood at the end of my bed telling me that I too could have a wonderful relationship with Jesus if I let him into my heart and accepted his healing blah love blah the bible blah blah. I didn't hear the end of his rant because I was thinking two things: 1) I am about to make criminal history by killing someone with an ice-pack and 2) given a choice between the prostitutes and the proselytizer I know what I'd choose.

All this was in the first 2 days, and fortunately things improved because I was about to take the first plane out to Pat's spare room if they didn't.

Addis has a real buzz to it - there is obviously a lot of development and building going on, and the women's fashions are great, so it's an interesting place to just walk around and 'people watch.' But there's also a lot of dust, Chinese building sites, shoe polish boys and what seems like a charity or NGO for every one of the shoe shiners. My charity work was getting my shoes shined, which I needed to in all that dust. (Yes, I know I am committing some heinous fashion crimes in this photo but it is bloody freezing here in the mornings.)

I did end up meeting some really interesting tourists at the place I was staying, a couple of photographers , some UN workers , and local jazz musicians studying at the university. But after ten days of dust in my lungs, beggars on the streets, snipers on the rooftops (there was a big meeting of African heads of state), and Christians in my bedroom, I decided it was time to get out of Addis and see some of the countryside.

People were a lot friendlier once I got out of Addis!

So I came about 1.5 hours into the country to what I have been reliably told is one of the most peaceful spots in Ethiopia and after the car ride here I would believe it. (3 hours to go 40kms). This is a photo I took at sunrise.

I'm staying in a town that has seven crater lakes dotted around it and I'm staying on one of the lakes, at a place called Salayish which has a small African style huts dotted around a garden - very peaceful, and the surrounding scenery is gorgeous. The town it is outside of fairly scruffy, like all African towns I'd say; utilitarian, clogged with traffic and of course, dusty, but it has it's own rough charm, the locals were friendly and it was very peaceful next to the lake.

My hut. Cute!

Salayish has its own distillery which makes honey wine (absolutely delicious) and araki, which is a type of vodka which they drink as an aperitif and for stomach problems but which I would only drink if I wanted to kill myself, quickly. (I think I might know what is causing those 'stomach problems.')


The distillary

Once you get out of Addis it is easy to see why Ethiopia is still one of the poorest countries in the world. it has a different kind of poverty to what I've seen in Asia, (I'm thinking particularly of Laos and Sumatra). There, even though people were struggling I had the sense that almost everyone had enough to eat, that most children went to primary school, and that people could buy clothes for their children. Here, the literacy rate is only around 65%, many farming children don't finish primary school, and kids often look undernourished.

Lots of young children have to look after the family animals,
instead of going to school.

These people are really on struggle street and I get the sense that for many of them there's not much hope of a leg up and out of grinding poverty; it's just about survival, no more, and often less.

Baby Tsuenat, and mum (who was married at 13).

I met a really lovely Swedish woman who works with UN health program's here. She said one good thing about Ethiopia is that you don't have to spend a lot of money on medications or hospitals to make a significant difference in health outcomes because education is what is really making a difference. She runs basic campaigns which educates families about the dangers of marrying off their daughters off at 9 or 10, because they get pregnant way too young and have all sorts of problems giving birth. She also runs campaigns to reduce FGM, which is still at a staggeringly high rate of 75% across Ethiopia.

This boy reminded me of Cally - very funny kid!

This boy ALSO reminded me of Cally! (That poor donkey)

Once you are introduced to people and get to know them a bit they are really friendly, warm, switched on and very, very proud of being Ethiopian. They are a bit like Australians in that they always ask, "what do you think of Ethiopia? What did you think it would be like before you came?" The problem have here is that the world still thinks of images of starving children whenever anyone mentions Ethiopia, and no one really appreciates the richness of the culture or landscape. They all seem surprised when I report that I fully expected Addis to be a modern, busy city (which it is). I think they think that everyone outside Africa thinks they live in mud huts and don't wear clothes (hello Mazzy!).

Morning tea at Salayish

Just like Australian's the Ethiopians seem to have national pride in some unusual things (shrimps? Barbies?). I was talking to an architect last week and he was talking about Injera, their national food, which looks like this:

(The injera is the big pancake thing under the food).

It's sort of like an enormous fermented pancake, made from a grain called Tef. It tastes OK, but I can only have it once a day. Anyway, this guy was telling me, "You people in the west, you eat your bread and pasta and maybe you go to the toilet, what? Once every three days?'" He makes a sad face, looking very sorry for the poor, constipated western world, and says, "In Ethiopia...we go three times a day, at least! The Injera is full of fibre!"

The Ethiopian tourist board's logo used to be: Ethiopia - 13 months of sunshine. (Because the Ethiopian calender has 13 months ) After this conversation I thought it could be changed to 'Ethiopia - 13 months of sunshine and at least 3 poos a day.'

Here are a few photos of my pitiful attempt at making injera, in the kitchen at Salayish. You pour the mixture straight onto the hot plate and then somehow, lift it off again. I spent quite a bit of time hanging out in this kitchen, and the women were just lovely. (Notice the big sticks sticking out of the fire, and the baby! There are also chickens running around the floor. It was all very OH&S compliant.)

I am meeting some interesting locals because the place I've been staying by the lake gets a lot of weekenders from Addis, and also expat Ethiopians returning for holidays. So, I've been hanging with developers, architects, artists and some musicians (who had been to Melbourne on tour.) I am pretty much getting to see the 2% of the population who are well educated and have money.

As people have told me, there is really no middle class in Ethiopia. There are the few percent at the top who have money, and then there is everyone else who has nothing. It is very obvious on the streets of Addis. Yesterday I was in a lovely Italian cafe having cake with a couple of guys I met at the lake and I could have been in Melbourne. But then, when we walked out onto the street it was the normal chaos of beggars, hustlers and shoe-shine boys, all of whom could only dream of eating Tiramisu at a classy cafe. Eventually the 'have-nots' are going to get impatient waiting for a few crumbs to drop from the table of the 'haves' - and who knows what will happen then.

Today, I was walking back to my guesthouse foolishly holding a couple of bananas instead of putting them in my bag. Two shoe-shine boys asked me for them, and I was in a bit of a quandary because I needed at least one for my breakfast tomorrow and I didn't have the energy to walk back and buy more. So, I said I'd give them one and they could share it. They had a bit of a fight over it but I kind of stood over the one holding the banana til he broke it in two. Seeing this, another group of shoe-shine boys ran up asking for the other banana. I said no, then, as I was walking away, this poor mother with a little baby asked for it. All I could hear as I walked away were pitiful cries of 'banana! banana!' coming down the street. I will feel bloody guilty when I eat my breakfast tomorrow.

In the kitchen at Salayish.

The problem is that as soon as you give something to one person, there is a crowd of ten more asking for something too, which makes me not want to give anything to anyone! I have developed little rules of giving - I usually only give money to disabled or elderly people, and never give money to children. I usually get the kids to shine my shoes, or give them some food. But, then I wonder if buying food is such a great idea for the children. It's all very complicated.


This is what happens when I am silly enough to walk around with my camera showing!

Overall, I love it here. The people are really genuine, helpful and really interesting to talk to. Despite the problems with beggars I never feel unsafe here and the men are very respectful and never hassle me. (Yes, men of Sri Lanka, that comment was directed at you. You freaks.) I think the countryside is beautiful; it's stunning, in a stark kind of way, very much like the Australian outback. I'd love to do some long bus rides and really get out into the more remote areas, because they are meant to be even more stunning, but I don't think that is going to happen. I will have to make do with Addis and Salayish - which is a bit like flying all the way to Australia from Europe and only seeing Melbourne and Bacchus Marsh, but at least it's something.

OK - here are a few more photos, if you haven't seen enough already!