14 hours in Ethiopia

Aug 2, 2016
4 min read

Five mattresses. Bucket of live roosters. 50lb burlap bag of spices.

These are what I saw men carrying on their heads around the market in Ethiopia today, which is presumably the largest open market in all of Africa. It was massive, chaotic, and flooding with any/every good that you could possibly imagine. I was constantly dodging people and donkeys alike; my attention was frantically jumping between the aroma of spices, making sure I didn’t trip into the water-filled pot holes, trying to see what the donkeys were transporting, and saying “salam” to those that gently grabbed my shoulder to balance themselves as we squeezed past each other in the narrow walk-ways.

I flew into Addis Abbas airport this morning at 6am for a slightly unexpected 14-hour layover in Ethiopia, to which I decided to make the best of my time. Amongst the chaos of impatient travelers at the Ethiopian Airlines customer service counter, I spoke to the only person at the counter who I could tell was on the verge of tears from the airline’s system being down combined with the relentless anger and disrespect from a long line of travelers that were in a hurry. She asked me to take a seat around the corner until the system was fixed. I nodded and smiled. Five games of Sudoku later, I had a transit visa, hotel stay, and three meal vouchers free of charge. She gave me a friendly wink, smile, and then left.

One hour later, my impromptu tour guide named Fanta (“like the drink!”) picked me up from my hotel in the only car that wasn’t a 1970s royal blue Toyota Corolla. I listened to him proudly tell stories about the history of Ethiopia and the market that we were about to go to. From the history of Orthodox Christianity to the story of “Lucy” (the oldest skeleton in the world) to the Italian origin of the market’s name… Fanta went on and on as I my eyes zipped left-to-right at the ever-changing cityscape. Tall sky risers. Metal shacks. Paved roads with streetlights that counted down the seconds to a green light. Dirt roads without stop signs. There were stark contrasts everywhere, and I couldn’t wrap my head around any single impression of Addis.

After a lot of honking and swerving between cars, we arrived at the market. The whole place was a fusion of what I imagined markets in India to look like, but with a load of random goods from China. Plastic chairs from China. Red chili peppers grown a few kilometers away. Kitchen appliances from China. Hand-woven baskets being made from local materials. Hygiene products from China. Art work painted by Ethiopians on leather. Row after row after row. If it weren’t for Fanta, I would have gotten so, so lost amongst the endless vendors and shops. He helped me learn how to haggle for a few souvenirs for my family, which I was overly shy about and he managed to aggressively cut any price at least in half. He was relentless. I would watch him have a back-and-forth with the vendor, shake his head, throw the souvenir on the table and start to walk away, go back into more back-and-forth, throw the souvenir on me, continue to shake his head disapprovingly, and then tell me to throw down cash as quickly as I could and leave. I was a lost pup, and he was in his element.

Next was the highlight of my day: a traditional Ethiopian meal. Seconds after entering, he turned to me and said, “Okay no spoons. No forks. You eat like us today.” Game time. We went over to the wash station outside and then sat down at our table. Over two local beers, we talked about the gender roles of women, which were still very traditional. I learned that when a man is courting a woman, her cooking abilities are a huge factor in his judgment of her. He grabbed the injera, which is a flavorless crepe/naan-like bread eaten with every meal. Flipping over the bread, he pointed to the air bubbles and told me that the size of the spaces showed you how exceptional she is at cooking, or in other words how exceptional she is to him. I was fascinated and also becoming quickly aware that I would be a very single woman in Ethiopia.

Finally, we ended the meal with a traditional ceremony that included the two loves of my life: coffee and popcorn. We moved to a smaller table that had long strands of grass on the floor around it, which meant that we were welcome to join. A woman brought over two ceramic glasses that were elegantly decorated and could hold two ounces of liquid at most. He guided me to place a small leafy plant into the cup and to hold it up with my right hand (because “the left symbolizes the devil”) as the woman poured dark, rich Ethiopian coffee for us. A small, colorful bowl of popcorn sat between us, which we ate between sips. We finished our coffee and then departed to complete my short-lived Ethiopian experience.

But damn what a day! This is the first time that I have traveled solo since I was in Italy two years ago. I’m missing my partner in crime (ily Emmeline), but am stoked to see where these next four weeks on my own take me.