Deconstructing Ethiopia

12 July 2011
Axum, Ethiopia

Ethiopian airlines boarding pass.

I have been attempting to understand what in particular bothers me about Ethiopia or our trip in general. This is not to say that I am not enjoying the trip or that I am not in the most excellent of company. Megan is the perfect travel partner for this trip; one of the few people in the world with whom I feel perfectly free to say what ever I wish about anything I wish. We both muse in the evenings over the conditions of Africa, why we waiver into thinking we never need to come back, and then rambling off lists of African countries we both still wish to see: Uganda, Rwanda, South Africa, Kenya. I suppose it is silly and naïve to say we do not wish to return.

"Macaroni and cheese"

I think some of my dismay comes when we stay in locations that try to live up to standards that are impossible to meet. Don’t tempt me with the offer of the internet for 1 birr a minute if in actuality it will take me 30 minutes to load one page so I can send a message to the outside world that all is still well. That sounds petty doesn’t it? We are both dying for news; usually the foreign channels on the TV don’t work or come in so distorted that we can barely make out the large headlines projected on the bottom of the screen. There is something about the phone hacking scandal in Britain. I have pieced together the words Qatar, World Cup 2024, corruption, Kuwait. Belfast riots. Crete explosion. I was leaping for joy at one point when we got Al Jazeera Arabic to come through. I know the protesters went out to Tahrir on the 8th for the sit-in. Esam Sharif spoke on the 9th and said he would fire the police officers charged with killing protesters during the revolution. The sit-in was still continuing on the 10th, the first workday of the week. I know nothing beyond this. In the brief functionality of one page worth of internet yesterday I saw that pro-Bashar Asad individuals attacked the US and French embassies in Damascus. I know nothing further on that.

10 points for whoever can tell me what this man is doing to this camel.

But back to Ethiopia and what bothers me. We briefly walk through some of the mud-covered villages from time to time. There is that smell I have long since equated with burning trash and extreme poverty. There is no plumbing or sewage system and people wash their clothes where the dirty run off water collects. There are the small children covered only by a shirt, protruding stomachs displaying malnutrition, and, of course, flies. It is stereotypical National Geographic. From outside my body I am assaulted with smells and sensations. The children run up to kiss my hands and touch my clothes. I am chewing gum and think that somehow I carry the clean taste of civilization and wealth in my mouth.

One of our villages. This one was quite cool with the painted houses.

I am greatly conflicted with such experiences. We briefly dash through in our state-of-the-art hiking boots but these people cannot leave. I am irritated that I am objectified as a walking moneybag, but how can it be otherwise? I have the immediate impulse to wash my hands after being touched by all the children and then I feel guilty for such a reaction. I feel stupid and cruel for walking through these places in my clean Western clothes. Somehow I feel guilty for even feeling sorry for these people; I am somehow being patronizing in these sentiments as well.

Kids always like having their picture taken and seeing it on the camera screen.

The children try to sell us anything as we go from site to site, even pretty rocks. They are much too young to be trying to sell things. We agree they must be the kids of the local farmers. It reminds me of the children in Tijuana and Rosarito; exploited by their parents or other adults. I keep thinking about Mexico, the borders and the drug wars, the folly of the US war on drugs, almost as much of a folly as the US war on terror. My disenchantment has reached new levels of extremes. To be honest, every interaction I have at the embassy or exposure I have to what “we” think about situations leads me to deeper despair about it all. I see a perpetuation of the world’s injustices as primarily a function of ignorance and bureaucracy. The ignorance is often a choice or even a desire: “let us not look outside our borders and try to understand it.” But we must understand that though we might turn our gaze inward there is no such thing as isolationism. Our mechanisms are external and working their effects on the world whether we choose to acknowledge and understand them or not. Turning a blind eye is the greater sin.

Local market and sheesha smoking.

We create knowledge about places like Africa. Usually such knowledge centers on internal and domestic reasons for modern unfortunate circumstances. It is a standard human cognition process. We tend to see the negative in others as a function of that other, not external circumstances, and rarely try to stand in their shoes or assess whether or not we might have any impact on the predicament. It is also easy to stand on high in the place of the “winner” and make cold, calculated, “rational,” “academic,” assessments about the state of the world and why the have-nots have got themselves in a position of dependency or inferiority. And for some reason I think that such discussions must take place with British accents. The cause is often narrowed down to culture or religion or even statements like “TIA” or “This Is Africa.” Of course we will dress it up in some fancy academic jargon so we can pander it off as “authentic knowledge” and “objective facts.” This is just the way the world is. Carry on.

Another local market.

What has any of this got to do with me flitting in and out of African villages and being overwhelmed with guilt? Perhaps it is even worse to feel that you have somehow “righted” the state of affairs because you have personally born witness to such abject poverty. You have even momentarily touched it. You are a better, bigger, person for this. In my opinion, this is absolute garbage and nonsense. It is, in fact, another form of exploitation. It is an exploitation of suffering and poverty for a sense of righteousness and worldliness. Seeing does not relieve you of some sort of obligation or wash away complicity in a world-system of asymmetry.

Local high school and bar

 Tourism is a form or asymmetrical contact and exchange that illustrates some of the working mechanisms of our world-system. Many of the people of the underdeveloped world rely extensively on tourism for their economy. In cases like Ethiopia they will sell their own heritage and sacred books as trinkets, to those who will not value them the same, simply for enough money to subsist. These people learn what tourists come to value as the appropriate souvenir for that area- the token for an “exotic” and “authentic” experience. The people quickly learn what is characterized by the tourists as the culture and identity of the strange land they are visiting- whether this is the case or not. What do tourists think symbolize Ethiopian culture? Silver crosses? Coffee? Anything else? What of the silenced Muslim population?

Fabrics for sale.

The people learn to produce according to tourist demand. They make copies of copies, changing items to fit more touristic visions (or assumed visions) of what is supposed to represent the essential and authentic culture of the area. Perhaps over time identity changes, at least in the tourist industry, so that what the tourist originally projected as essential to the peoples’ culture becomes assumed and identified as the more salient characteristics of the “native” identity. This identity and knowledge is projected from the outside. “This is the most important symbol and aspect of your culture and identity.” The change in cultural performance and identity is a result of asymmetry in power (and not usually intentional), the haves and have-nots. The implications of asymmetry are far greater than economic: they are ideological. Of course this is still a somewhat simplified manner of looking at this exchange; interactions are always two-way and there is no such thing as a static and essential/authentic culture in the first place. Culture is a verb. It is a human performance. It does not exist in and of itself. This fact does not decrease the implications of the previous exchange: performance is altered, perhaps faster than usual, as a result of asymmetry and the knowledge projections of the wealthier and external Other. There is incentive to change from the Other; however, this does not eliminate agency on the part of the exploited. But how aware are they of the full implications?

"One-eyed non-believer"

11 July 2011 (Lalibela, Ethiopia)

We are very into our religion here. This 1000 year old bible is still in use at the head church in Axum.

“One-eyed, non-believer. One-eyed, non-believer.” It has become our joke in Ethiopia. In fact, I am sure that as Megan sits across from me writing she is punching out the same lines on her keyboard. It is just that we are simply tired of being told the same story and the same details in every church we visit, which must amount to at least twenty at this point. The details are always given to us as pure facts to be accepted without question. One man was even forward enough to tell us he expected us to convert to Ethiopian Orthodox Christianity after a week here. The most repeated fact comes when we are looking at the rich and medieval imagery that covers most churches. All believers are depicted with two eyes though still from a side angle. Jesus, angels, God, and the like are always looking forward with two eyes. And the dreaded non-believers, well, you can guess: sideways with one eye.

The Ark comes to Axum with Menelik I

The most sensational fact to be believed is that Ethiopia is actually the possessor of the Ark of the Covenant. Everyone will tell you this with absolute certainty. This fact is usually followed up with claims about how both the CIA and Mossad is obsessively trying to acquire the Ark and so the priests of Ethiopia must be forever on their guard. How did Ethiopia end up with the Ark? Well, the Queen of Sheba was from Ethiopia (never mind that most academics will place her in Yemen) and when she went to Jerusalem she was tricked into King Solomon’s bed. Upon her return to Ethiopia she gave birth to their son Menelik I who went to visit his father in Jerusalem at age 18. When he departed Solomon sent with him some of the highest ranked priests and twelve thousand Jews from the various families. The priests decided to take the Ark with them to Ethiopia. When Solomon discovered the disappearance he was more than a little angry but then later had a dream where God told him that the Ark should go with his son. Menelik became the first ruler in a dynasty that is claimed to have remained unbroken until the revolution in the 70’s. And never mind that the dynasty was most certainly broken by several hundred years more than a few times; or that the claim to a Solomonic dynasty first started in order to give legitimacy to the Gondar rulers who seceded the dynasty at Lalibela who had previously claimed to be descended from Moses. Thus, the Ark rests in Ethiopia, specifically in Axum (where we are traveling today). There is only one guardian of the Ark who cannot leave the premises of the chapel where the Ark is kept for the duration of his life. He is the only person allowed to see the Ark and God sends him a message to designate his predecessor at the appointed time. Each church in Ethiopian Orthodox is constructed in Old Testament style with a place for the Holy of Holies. Additionally, each church has a replica of the Ark hidden behind a curtain that only deacons and priests can see. The Ethiopians believe that even the replicas have power. And if you think you might be able to break into the real Holy of Holies at Axum you better be ready for an Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade type of scenario. There are no less that fifteen replicas in the Holy of Holies in Axum and it is unlikely that you would know which one is the real Ark. “Choose wisely.”

The chapel of the Ark

We have memorized this story and others after our five days in Ethiopia. We are told the Ark story anew when we visit just about every church. We are also retold just about every story of the Bible (Ethiopian style) since there is an overwhelming need to explain all the artwork. It has been enough to make Megan exclaim on our second day, “I am ready for a mosque!” In addition to Bible stories (like at least two of the three wise men were most certainly Ethiopian because they brought frankincense and myrrh). I have also been told unabashedly that the King James Bible is wrong in translation (though I would not disagree with this statement) and the Ethiopian Bible is right by all accounts (most people don’t seem to be aware of the NIV version). The eleven rock hewn churches (quite magnificent) were built in 24 years with King Lalibela and his workers working by day and angels and God by night. The remains of pilgrims 400 years old still have flesh on them because they were washed in holy water. The Egyptians did not build the pyramids; it was the Ethiopians and the Jews. In fact, Egypt has nothing of its own as even the Nile originates in Ethiopia at Lake Tana (we omit discussion of the White Nile and Lake Victoria). I am often asked with a sly grin what the Egyptians think about the Ethiopian plan to divert more of the Nile. One person even went so far as to say that without Mubarak, Egypt was no longer a strong country. It is in transition and weak. I did not reply. It does seem that most Ethiopians do, however, have sympathy for Egyptian democratic desires and are rather amazed by the revolution.

An Ethiopian Orthodox priest staring down we one-eyed non-believers

When I asked today about Muslims in Ethiopia today I was told there are “some” (Muslims make up about one third of the population) but they are not allowed to build mosques in Axum. Why? It is a Christian holy city and anyway, Mecca does not allow the construction of churches so why should Muslims be allowed to build mosques in Christian holy cities? I decided to not stir the argument further, especially when I found that I was a little angry at that remark. It is the same anger I feel when Egyptians tell me there is absolutely no bias against the Copts in Egypt. Or when such a stir was made about building a community center with a mosque a few blocks from the World Trade Center- people forget the World Trade Center actually had a mosque in it and some of the victims were Muslims. But I shall leave this controversial issue of religion behind for now.

St. George rock church at Lalibela

Perhaps I started with religion because it has permeated nearly every aspect of our trip thus far. I think we are starting to feel like we are in continuous Ethiopian Sunday school. It is good to remember that in the end, what is important is what people actually believe and how their identities are constructed- no matter how fantastical outsiders might find these stories. After all, we all construct our own histories.

The lunch that sent us over the edge.

On another note, I arrived in Ethiopia more than excited about the cuisine, especially injera or the spongy bread. I dove full force into sampling the local eating without fear since in my last decade of international travel I have never become physically ill upon arrival to a new country. Well, I have not been to Africa- real Africa that is. Both Megan and I were promptly rewarded with grueling pains, unspeakable bodily functions, and twenty fours hours of basic incapacitation. Thankfully our stints occurred one day apart so we could each care for the other in each other’s respective time of need. Of course mine had to occur in the middle of the night at remote Bahir Dar, in the ghetto fake telephones hotel (we have telephones in the room but, no, they don’t actually work) when we had no bottled water (yes, I swear, Megan and I are brilliant and experienced travelers). After I had been suffering for two hours I was starting to get scarily light headed and ready to pass-out. My body was in serious need of water. Megan marched to the front of the locked hotel lobby in her pajamas at 3 am (still sick herself) to confront a single guard who kept yelling “No! No water! Closed!” Finally she was led around the back to a scary looking water spicket. “We can’t drink that! We are farangi! That will just make us more sick!” Farangi references the French but is now served as a classification for any foreigner in Ethiopia. Finally, after 45 minutes, a driver emerged to take the still pajama-clad Megan into town to a nicer hotel that actually manned the desk at night (since everything else in town was closed). Thankfully she was able to get us some water and kept me from breaking down and drinking from the dreaded water spicket.

"Who are these farangi?"

Since our horrid stomach tribulations Megan and I have stuck to “safe” and “nice” food that generally revolves around rice, pasta, and vegetables. I usually prefer to be vegetarian anyway and sadly I have lost all desire for local cuisine. Megan has more recently began entering places and remarking that it smells good. My response has lately been, “I dislike all smells because they all smell like Ethiopia.” My enthusiasm will return with full stomach recovery…enshallah. Our stomachs have both shrunk and we are usually unable to finish our plates, much to the dismay and irritation of the waiters who constantly ask what is wrong with the food. I keep thinking I must be horribly evil and politically incorrect to laugh at Megan every meal and say, “You better finish your plate because there are people starving in Ethiopia.” I must admit that South Park and “Starvin’ Marvin” have also not gone without reference.

The lush Ethiopian landscape.

However, the famines here were years ago and contrary to most stereotypes the majority of Ethiopia is lush, fertile, and green. It has rained every day we have been here (of course we are here during the rainy season). Most people make their living as subsistence farmers though they are, as can be imagined, incredibly poor. I have not seen poverty on this scale since I was in India. In fact, the life expectancy here is 55 years old according to the CIA world fact book. It is not a kind life. As can be expected the people who I see working the hardest are the women. They often carry huge bundles of firewood or other commodities on their backs and walk extreme distances, often uphill. They are expected to carry out the long and elaborate Ethiopian coffee ceremony three times a day, not to mention all the other household and agricultural duties. Often they cut their hair short like the men so little maintenance is required. Women and men are separated in church services and women are often barred from entering certain churches or monasteries (and this rule extended to us as well- though one guide offered to let us dress as men to enter other monasteries).

Transport across the river.

In one village close to the Blue Nile falls I was told that the women married at twelve and the men at sixteen. In another village my “inner archaeologist” was horrified to find several hundred-year-old bibles (made from animal skin), icons, and other artifacts for sale. I was hoping upon closer inspection I would conclude they were forgeries but as far as I could tell they were not. “Why are they selling these?” I asked stupidly before thinking. “Because they are very very poor. They have one bible at home and that is enough.” Now I understood that the sign at the Addis airport was rather serious: Please do not take old bibles and artifacts from Ethiopia.

Landscape around Lalibela

 I have been told many times that the government owns all the land in Ethiopia. Farmers can work on it for free but they cannot sell it and no one is an owner. One person explained to me that they found this to be a good system because if private land ownership were allowed then everything would immediately be bought up by the rich and the poor would be exploited. Therefore the government is doing the farmers (the majority of Ethiopians) a favor by keeping the land out of the hands of the rich. Of course the government reserves the right to remove any person from land at any point if they reach a more profitable agreement with any foreign investors. Therefore, one is never truly safe from being pushed off the land. Sadly, I have been bereft of any internet and have had to rely extensively on our guidebook for further information about most of these matters.