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July 2001
Addis Ababa
"Ahh Problem. Mister where you go?"
A dark hand was
across my chest on a dark night. I brushed that hand aside as being another
Addis hustler when the voice became agitated,
"Mister Stop" The hand re-appeared and force was exerted from behind it. I
was about to be mugged in a dark passage within 50
yards of the International terminal at Addis Ababa Airport. NO WAY
I thought and balled my fist as I pretended to be conciliatory.
"My friend" I smiled "What is the problem" If I hit
him hard enough, I could probably find a policeman.
"Mister where are you going?" This was the standard tout's greeting. Who was
this guy a violent tout. I looked at him with more care, he was wearing
a wind cheater and trousers, nothing marked him out as being strange or
dirty. He looked like your average Addis tout with a greasy haircut. Out of
the corner of my eye I saw a man approaching with an AK47,
ahh at last I was saved, I could rid my self of this dickhead and go and
find my friend Charles.
"What is problem?" asked the AK toting guard.
"Nothing" I just want to go and find my friend.
"I tell you no!" Screamed the first Abyssinian.
I looked at him more carefully. His Wind cheater was
green, but everyone wears a green wind cheater in Addis.
"Who are you?" I asked.
With a grunt he shoved me backwards, the two men stood
together.
Reality
dawned on me at last.
"Oh I'm so sorry, you're policeman, or a soldier or a
Gendarme or something.
How silly of me. I mean, most coppers always hang
around in back
passages
with ho hat, no ID card , no boots, no gun, and a
cigarette dangling
from
their throats. I am so sorry. Now back to the business
in hand; could I
please go close to the building and find my friend?"
"No"
"Right, ok," I Looked around and saw that most people
waited in the car
park, but some people were allowed up to the doors.
"Where can I buy and airport ticket or pass?"
"No, you wait here" He pointed to an imaginary line in the ground.
Unlike
East Africans, Ethiopians have an air about them that
indicates an
immediate willingness to hose you down with their
rifles. I was not
going to
argue.
"OK fine, bye" I smiled again for good measure. It
wouldn't do to be: shot while trying to "escape".
I found the edge of the carpark where I was supposed
to wait and spied an expatriate.
"Hello" is this the arrivals area.
"Yes, that asshole up there will not allow anyone any
further" He replied with vehemence.
"Yes I found that out the hard way, but there was no
barrier, no
sentrybox,
no sign or anything."
"Yes you are supposed to know what imaginary line not
to cross"
"Yes well that's the first negative experience I've
had in three days.
Weird
though. Even in India, you can buy an airport ticket"
The tall grey bearded gentleman looked at me. He
paused and said quite
clearly:
"This is not a civilised country"
I was struck dumb. Ethiopia had seemed an enormously
polite nation.
The people were resourceful, decent, honest, and there was
no hint of African
lazyness. In fact everything I had seen had been
encouraging.
That afternoon I had sat on the pavement of a cafe and
written a
postcard
to Sam:
The town has an odd feel to it. It is a sort of laid
out Nairobi with
friendly people who move a little faster and don't
thieve as much. The
shops
are as full as can be expected and the street
vegetable markets are
completely packed. There is plenty of food and
definitely some money
in the
this capital. The Italian influence is everywhere.
There are
cappuccini
machines everywhere. The Russian influence is plainly
visible, big Tatra
and
Mil trucks and of course the ubiquitous Lada....
yrs
Fikret
"What do you mean?" I asked the Expat.
"The country is about to fall apart"
"How"
"The Prime Minister is about to fall, the economy is
in tatters, the
place
is on the edge"
"What is he going to have a vote of no confidence
taken in him?"
The Expat smiled "No more immediate than that"
"Oh, what" I was confused. Ethiopia's reforming Mr
Meles was well
regarded
by the BBC World Service."
"Well he's not sleeping in the same bed two nights
running"
"Shit??? Who's after him the Army?"
"The others" He replied enigmatically.
"Who are they?"
"Well everyone has their man waiting in the wings, the
Russians, the
Americans, the rumour is that even Mengistu the last
commie is waiting
in
Nairobi"
"What started this?"
"Well The Tigreayans, that's Menel*ks lot, threw the
Derg (Commies) out
by
force. Then they consolidated their position with the
other small
parties
who gave them a chance because they were seen as being
the liberators.
Now
the Yanks have been dangling the carrot of loads of
cash in front of
Meles's nose as long as he does a complete turn around
and becomes a
capitalist"
"I thought he had"
"well, he's half way there. The Yanks won't give cash
till it's done,
and
most of his supporters are grass roots socialists. If
he can last the
next
two months he'll probably make it"
"So this country is like a ship coming about and
caught in the swell.
Neither here nor there, but precarious"
The Expat looked down at me curiously,
"You know that's rather a good analagy." He paused
"ahhha that's my
friend
... TONEEEE, Over here!!!" He bawled and strode off.
Twenty minutes later Charles appeared. I grabbed some
of his luggage
and
took him to the airport carpark cum cafe/lounge and
bar.
"You know, it would seem you've landed in interesting
times"
Charles had spent a year in Hong Kong. He knew the old
Chinese proverb.
He
looked at me laconically as if to say no change from
the ordinary. What
he
actually said was.
"OK, I take it we are talking the thirty second
rule..... better get on
with
it!"
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