This is My Addis Ababa

A week ago, in my last post, I mentioned that I like Ethiopian culture. But the like is becoming love. I don’t have my bearings in Addis yet—working on it. But the part of Addis Ababa that I know, my part of the city, is becoming home. Let me be your guide:

Cherokee House.

Actually, no. That doesn’t count as Ethiopia, because it’s full of firenges (white peeps) and firenge food. There’s a cereal off-brand here called “Magic Time,” and I eat Magic Time “Frosty Flakes” for breakfast sometimes. Okay, next.

Merkato.

Crazy crazy market. It’s huge, and reminiscent of the “New Market” in Bangladesh, with it’s scraggly vendor stalls, it’s population of hustlers and gawkers, it’s collection of colorful fabrics, and it’s city-spill (?). The borders of the market are always changing, but it’s an entire part of town with low-rise complexes, shops, stalls all combining into the pulsating mass that is Merkato. Last Friday, I went third-world treasure hunting in Merkato, walking through the walkways between shops selling bar soap and broken watches, wooden spears and colorful fabrics embroidered with shimmering silks. In a musty shop, it’s walls lined with wooden trinkets, it’s shelves stacked with old silver crafts and carved figurines, I found my first treasure. A little egg of bluish stones delicately fitted together, hiding behind a silver goblet (that may or may not have been the Holy Grail.) Then, more exploring, sliding my fingers along the edges of some artisan craft in a corner shop. Saying “wagaw sentinow?” (phonetical spelling), “how much?” and always walking away (it works). More bargaining. More sweating and squinting as the taxis swerved down the dirt paths of Merkato and spewed black pollution and brown dust into your eyes and mouth and hair and everywhere. Then, the second treasure. It was hanging in a gallery on the second floor of a building within the bounds of Merkato. Finer trinkets were on display behind glass all around the gallery. Most were nothing new. I browsed, already bored with the same sets of souvenirs I had seen in many of the shops outside, until I came to the antique corner of the gallery and saw my sword. It’s an old sword/machete, whatever. “Tolloq Afar,” big knife. Oh, crazy local bazaars. How I love you.

Habasha Restaurants.

Habasha means “Ethiopian.” I love Ethiopian food. Love it. Most of the other volunteers are over it by now, but not me. It’s repetitive, but guaranteed delicious. Injera is the country’s staple. It’s like rice, but as a spongy-fermented-pancake (mmm). And, like rice, it’s a staple. Injera is the base of all Ethiopian food. Literally. You’re served a metal plate with two or three layers of Injera draped across it, and then the wat (curry) comes in little black cauldrons. The wat is a kind-of spicy, colorful goop. I mean goop. You spoon it from the little black cauldrons onto the Injera into dollops of goop, then, using only your right hand, you try to tear off pieces of Injera (dexterity is key), wipe up some delicious wat/goop, then stuff the soppy mess into your mouth. It’s like you’re a hungry 3-year old again. We’ve been to about 4-5 legit Ethiopian places, going from hole-in-the-wall to high-class dining, and it’s been sooo good. I order the shero, a tasty orange goop, the tibbis fir fir, little pieces of lamb in a broth, and the doro wat, a spicy-as-hell dish of brown goop, chicken, and a hardboiled egg. Tonight, I kill me half a plate of Doro wat, and sat there and sweated from the spice and smiled between gulps of wuha (water). Ok, pause. I’m re-reading this, and it’s hard to describe this food as appetizing. Just, just trust me, okay? We’ll eat it in Nashville. You’ll see.

Sarbet/Zenowork.

Sarbet and Zenowork are an areas of town that include the International Evangelical Church, my favorite Kaldi’s, and the Haverly’s home. We’ll go in order. The IEC church is great. Last Sunday, I listened to traditional Western hymns and African tribal chants mixing in a melody of worship. There were tons of Westerners there, and I hadn’t seen more than four or five Westerners in a day (outside of the Cherokee house), so IEC was interesting. Then, Kaldi’s. Kaldi’s is off-brand Ethiopian Starbucks. Actually, Starbucks sued Kaldi’s for copying them, because their colors are green and white, their interior design is identical, and its signage is the same. It’s hilarious, they copied everything. The Sarbet Kaldi’s is delightful, with comfortable chairs, cheap macchiatos, and mango juice. And then, the Haverly’s home. I’ll be living with the Haverlys for the second month, but I’ve been spending some good time with them these past two weeks while with Cherokee. It’s nice to be part of a household here in Addis, and I love playing with their baby boy Jackson. He’s a dancer, and sometimes we get low.

Destiny Academy.

The most important part of my Addis Ababa. I teach English for 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, and 7th Grade. I teach them English and how to make boats out of paper, and they hold my hand and draw pictures for me.

Yesterday, the 3rd Graders threw a party, and invited me and the other teachers to it. They sat us down and served us Injera, shero, bread, mystery fruit juice, and lots of animal crackers. They kept saying “eat eat eat” and offering me animal crackers so I stuffed them into my mouth and they cheered. The little 3rd grade girls told me “ohhh, Mister Chris. You’re belly is very very big! You are so so happy!” And I was. They’re precious children, all of them. The sweet students, and the rabash (troublemakers) too. I love being a teacher.

Tor Hiloch.

(me and Ermyias)
My neighborhood. It’s been so good getting to know the people of Tor Hiloch. The training center for the blind, Hulugeb’s, is in the neighborhood, and after teaching at Destiny, I’ve been carrying my camera to Hulugeb’s and taking photos for the re-designing of their brochure. It’s been so fun to be the photographer. I love capturing the character of the place. The rooms, the looms, the brushes and the brooms that the residents create, the processes they use, and their hands while they work, it’s all so rich. I love telling the story through photos. I’ve meet some of the staff, and they always ask for photos too. Cameras can overcome the language barrier and connect people. The bus from Destiny Academy, to Mexico (the big roundabout), to Tor Hiloch stops under a highway overpass, and it’s become a haunt of mine. Next to the overpass is Nafekun café. Nafekun sells delicious macchiatos for 25 cents each. Crazy cheap. So Ethiopia might be dangerous for you coffee addicts. Under the overpass, my boy Ermyias and his group bro-out every evening and chew chat. Chat is a leaf, that’s a drug, that’s legal, that is like coffee with a hint of marijuana. I met Ermyias by chance encounter on the street, but since then I’ve visited him and his group on most days coming home from Destiny. They love being photographed, and they love high-fiving. It’s difficult to talk to Ermyias, because we don’t speak much of each other’s languages, but we work through the sentences and enjoy each other’s company. It’s so good to have a friend in the neighborhood. A familiar face. There’s the two beggar men by the path, and then the umbrella man by the big pipes. The hoop-and-stick kids on the hill, and then other kids by the old wooden bridge. And these are my neighbors. This is my neighborhood.


These are my places. This is my Addis Ababa (so far).
-Chris