8.22.2005
The Tanzania-Ethiopia Express
Originally sent February 8, 2005. This is the fourth of 8 mass emails I sent while living in Tanzania.
Hello again, readers of the Emily Monthly Round-Up. I hope the onset of February in your various northern climes hasn't been too harsh—here it has meant more rainy days and more sun on days when it doesn't rain. Work is fine and currently my crowd is all a-bustle with preparations for my roommate's wedding, details of which will certainly be in the next update.
But the big news from my end is that I took a vacation. Specifically, I spent 16 days in Ethiopia and I had a fantastic time. I had been wanting to go there because at the end of college I took a couple of classes that focused on Ethiopia and those piqued my interest. So I made an itinerary that covered the historical route in the north ofthe country, connected by bus and short-hop plane flights, and off I went. So it was that I found myself in the following situations; exploring a bat-filled tomb by candlelight in Aksum, following a procession of sacred replicas of the Ark of Covenant with hundreds of other people, shimmying my shoulders with a woman in traditional dress, sharing brown bread and spices with Ethiopian monks, riding a mule up a slope that Ethiopians climbed while carrying huge bundles of firewood, and eating pesto in an airy restaurant full of chic expatriate diplomats and development professionals in Addis Ababa.
The one thing that constantly amazed me about the country was the waythat the country's long and complicated history was manifested in the landscape. In Aksum, traders still walk down the streets leading camels and here and there you can find big stone monuments erected in the early hundreds AD when Aksum was one of the world's great civilizations. In Bahar Dar, I visited half a dozen 14th century churches and monasteries on islands in Lake Tana that are still in use and that survived Muslim invasions in the 19th century because of their remoteness. In cafes and restaurants are small mementos of the Italian Fascist occupation in the omnipresent espresso and spaghetti and, in several places I saw reminders of the anti-Communist war of liberation in the early 1990's; rusting Russian tanks lying in neatly plowed fields, their silent gun turrets pointing aimlessly off into the distance.
The most ubiquitous example of this historicity was the fact that everywhere I went there were signs of cultivation, with terraces for farming on all but the steepest mountain slopes, and sometimes even there. Even from the airplane I could see the patchwork of small farmers' plots; a pattern that spoke equally of the 7,000+ years ofhuman habitation and the recent population boom. It was completely unlike other African countries I've been to, where you can drive for miles through sparsely inhabited scrub, and quite an impressive testament to the tenacity of Ethiopian farmers.
I was also impressed with the consideration and hospitality ofEthiopian people everywhere I went. One morning I boarded a bus, expecting to arrive at my destination that night. By noon, the bus had stopped in a dinky town and the driver told us the road was closed and we weren't going to go any further until the next day. I was dreading having that much time to kill in the Ethiopian equivalent of a truck stop when the woman across the aisle, a widow with twodaughters who spoke no English, undertook my entertainment for the afternoon. We went to her cousin's rented room for the coffee ceremony, (fresh roasted beans and prepared with lots of sugar—the first coffee I've ever liked) and then to another relative's for tea with cloves and a nice walk through rolling farmland, mostly brown stubble, but still beautiful. Because all of the through bus traffic was stopped in this one town, most of the hotel rooms were full, and it turned out that I stayed in a room (that another passenger from the bus helped us find) with the woman and her daughters, all four of us sleeping tangled up together on one bed.
On another night, while on a two-day hike, the guide pitched my tent next to a farmer's haystack and we ate with the farmer's family. The house was round and spacious; there was a fire in the center, which we sat around as we ate. In a circle around us, tethered cows and goats calmly munched on hay. Cats wound around our ankles and the farmer's children played in the light of the fire, out of the evening chill. It was one of the poorest places and one of the coziest places that I've ever been.
But now I'm back in Tanzania, and back to work. I wasn't happy to give up being a wide-eyed tourist, I have to be honest. Still, even though it wasn't exactly a restful vacation, I feel invigorated and I appreciated having time to reflect on my situation and my work and myplace on this earth. But I'll spare you all that.
Best wishes to you all!
Emily
Hello again, readers of the Emily Monthly Round-Up. I hope the onset of February in your various northern climes hasn't been too harsh—here it has meant more rainy days and more sun on days when it doesn't rain. Work is fine and currently my crowd is all a-bustle with preparations for my roommate's wedding, details of which will certainly be in the next update.
But the big news from my end is that I took a vacation. Specifically, I spent 16 days in Ethiopia and I had a fantastic time. I had been wanting to go there because at the end of college I took a couple of classes that focused on Ethiopia and those piqued my interest. So I made an itinerary that covered the historical route in the north ofthe country, connected by bus and short-hop plane flights, and off I went. So it was that I found myself in the following situations; exploring a bat-filled tomb by candlelight in Aksum, following a procession of sacred replicas of the Ark of Covenant with hundreds of other people, shimmying my shoulders with a woman in traditional dress, sharing brown bread and spices with Ethiopian monks, riding a mule up a slope that Ethiopians climbed while carrying huge bundles of firewood, and eating pesto in an airy restaurant full of chic expatriate diplomats and development professionals in Addis Ababa.
The one thing that constantly amazed me about the country was the waythat the country's long and complicated history was manifested in the landscape. In Aksum, traders still walk down the streets leading camels and here and there you can find big stone monuments erected in the early hundreds AD when Aksum was one of the world's great civilizations. In Bahar Dar, I visited half a dozen 14th century churches and monasteries on islands in Lake Tana that are still in use and that survived Muslim invasions in the 19th century because of their remoteness. In cafes and restaurants are small mementos of the Italian Fascist occupation in the omnipresent espresso and spaghetti and, in several places I saw reminders of the anti-Communist war of liberation in the early 1990's; rusting Russian tanks lying in neatly plowed fields, their silent gun turrets pointing aimlessly off into the distance.
The most ubiquitous example of this historicity was the fact that everywhere I went there were signs of cultivation, with terraces for farming on all but the steepest mountain slopes, and sometimes even there. Even from the airplane I could see the patchwork of small farmers' plots; a pattern that spoke equally of the 7,000+ years ofhuman habitation and the recent population boom. It was completely unlike other African countries I've been to, where you can drive for miles through sparsely inhabited scrub, and quite an impressive testament to the tenacity of Ethiopian farmers.
I was also impressed with the consideration and hospitality ofEthiopian people everywhere I went. One morning I boarded a bus, expecting to arrive at my destination that night. By noon, the bus had stopped in a dinky town and the driver told us the road was closed and we weren't going to go any further until the next day. I was dreading having that much time to kill in the Ethiopian equivalent of a truck stop when the woman across the aisle, a widow with twodaughters who spoke no English, undertook my entertainment for the afternoon. We went to her cousin's rented room for the coffee ceremony, (fresh roasted beans and prepared with lots of sugar—the first coffee I've ever liked) and then to another relative's for tea with cloves and a nice walk through rolling farmland, mostly brown stubble, but still beautiful. Because all of the through bus traffic was stopped in this one town, most of the hotel rooms were full, and it turned out that I stayed in a room (that another passenger from the bus helped us find) with the woman and her daughters, all four of us sleeping tangled up together on one bed.
On another night, while on a two-day hike, the guide pitched my tent next to a farmer's haystack and we ate with the farmer's family. The house was round and spacious; there was a fire in the center, which we sat around as we ate. In a circle around us, tethered cows and goats calmly munched on hay. Cats wound around our ankles and the farmer's children played in the light of the fire, out of the evening chill. It was one of the poorest places and one of the coziest places that I've ever been.
But now I'm back in Tanzania, and back to work. I wasn't happy to give up being a wide-eyed tourist, I have to be honest. Still, even though it wasn't exactly a restful vacation, I feel invigorated and I appreciated having time to reflect on my situation and my work and myplace on this earth. But I'll spare you all that.
Best wishes to you all!
Emily
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