Ethiopia Letters (Part Three): North to Mek'ele

(In the following series of posts, I revisit a journey taken in early 2007 to Ethiopia, through correspondence. You can see part one here and part two here.)

February 16, 2007


Friends:

Heading northwards into Tigray, Ethiopia's northern province, en route to Aksum.  First stop is the capital, Mek'ele.  I've opted to fly over enduring a three day busride after hearing a friend's story of breakdowns and a harrowing accident on the less than ideal Highway 1.  I'm excited to get out of the chaos and the stinking diesel of Addis for a while. 

Getting on the flight itself was somewhat unnerving.  I had to pass through the domestic terminal, the aging and soon to be disbanded former international terminal, overtaken by its new shining heir, Bole International. It's as if Bole molted, and I'm in its ruddy shell. The terminal is in a state of terminal decay, frozen in time with its abandoned kiosks and clocks set to a once time in, say, Moscow. Everything is bathed in dust grey light; it is architecture in its twilight years. And I'm stuck thinking: Christ, what are the airplanes going to be like?

But I'm lucky.  If Ethiopia has one thing going in terms of transportation, it's Ethiopia Airlines, one of the more reliable carriers on the continent. The planes were cozy turboprops. And with a decent buna to top it off.

local transport

The flight: magical.  The northern part of Ethiopia is raw and dry, with large flats surrounded by deep carved valleys, and few rivers.  Flats were connected by a spiderweb of mountain trails  - there are few roads of any size. Flashes revealed the metal roofs of small villages, and single dwelling huts dotted the hills in clumps. I saw now what it means to be the most rural country on earth.  

Arrival in Mek'ele was like stepping into a furnace; the weather was even hotter and drier than Addis. The geography is more barren and desert-like, with rolling scrubby hills and the occasional patch of green.  With the cacti, I could almost be in Arizona. 

Mek'ele is about 8km from the airport, the town is similar to Awassa: clean, orderly, with plenty of trees (surely irrigated).   To the north of the city are the famous cave monasteries of Tigray, where monks and priests have practiced for well over a thousand years, and continue to do so to this day.  To the south lies Lalibela, home to the famous rock churches.

detail, Coptic cross

I am only a few hours south of the Eritrean border and the UN presence is high here, which means plenty of gleaming white UNMEE Landcruisers and their ubiquitous black communications antennaes bobbing in the wind.  I've been told that Adigrat, a small town 90 mins north has one of the heaviest UN contingents in Ethiopia, due to the ongoing border tensions with Eritrea.

The locals are exceptionally friendly and there are few tourists about. Most tourists don't hang around long here, using it as a stopover for northward treks.  I'm a tall, blond curiosity as I wander a few local markets casually searching for a memento.  I am intrigued by the little girls with Coptic crosses tattooed to their foreheads and the distinct way that the women here braid their hair.


My temporary home is the Atse Yohannes Hotel, overlooking the main roundabout, with a large stone-tiled patio restaurant that's perfect for people watching and subtlety snapping a few pictures. it's got two international channels - CNN and Al Jazeera - so I get a good dose of the news and more importantly a chance to suss out Al Jazeera, which I haven't had the chance to watch.  After two days, still can't see what the fuss is about.


Yesterday, I struck up conversation with a few locals at an adjacent table and before I knew it I was being whisked away for lunch at one of the local spots. One of my hosts was a restaurant owner in Japan, and was back in his hometown on vacation. I couldn't help think how vastly different Japan must be to this place.  He was fluent in Japanese.


It was Friday and two days before Lent, which meant that for 55 days no one (except the muslims of course) could eat after 3pm. Meat and dairy were forbidden. What this translated into was a lot of gorging at the restaurant.  Everyone was tucking into huge boiling pots of tibs (meat strips cooked with onions and peppers) and gored gored (raw meat cubes served at room temperature). This was a last chance protein fest; a stocking up before long hungry mornings and a simpler vegetarian diet (my preference anyway).  I politely declined the numerous offers of tibs and settled in on a beautiful lentil stew, soaked up with big handfuls of spongy injera.  

main square at night - those fountains worked once, for a wedding.

Nighttime activities included the required bar crawl, followed by the jotting down of some of their wonderful names:  'Milk Bar'; 'Khidi (kiddy) Bar'; 'My Place'; 'Your Place'; 'Badme Bar', 'Bar Bar'; and finally, just 'Bar'.  I was serenaded to (by men) to their favourite singers, none other than Celine Dion and Brian Adams.  I assumed some kind of magnetic attraction to some of these gentleman, who demanded my attention constantly.  And of course the questions and opinions loomed as soon as they heard my English:

"You are from Canada? I love George Bush!"

"You are from Canada? I hate George Bush!"

"You are from Canada!  I love England!"

"You are from Canada?  Ah, good country" 

One of the other great highlights was sitting around watching Ethiopian Idol.  Yes, there is an Ethiopian version, where men and women show off their great (and often not so great) traditional singing and dancing skills.  I watched the American version for the first time in the UK, and the ranking panellists were loud, garish and often plainly brutal to these aspiring singers.  Quite different in the Ethiopian version; the panelists were all men and very soft spoken.  Still the same was the stricken look on the contestant's faces.  Classic.

Aksum, home of the famous Stellae, is the next stop...