Wed 12 Feb 2014 (5 Yekatit 2006) Addis

Wed 12 Feb 2014 (5 Yekatit 2006) Addis






It's our next-to-last day in Ethiopia. Up, grab 2 of the little avocados, eat a pastry at Kyriazis.
 

When we parted ways with the cell phone in Adama, it became inconvenient to call the Chinese guy from the Danakil trip who was going to share info about the Addis stores and restaurants the Chinese expats patronize.  Instead, Mike wants to go to guidebook-mentioned Sichuan Restaurant tonight and try some Ethio-Chinese food.  So he asks one of the hotel clerks to call and make sure the restaurant is still open.  She makes the call and assures Mike that the restaurant is still open.  Mike thinks she said it was still in the same place (?).





This morning we are off to Entoto and Shiro Meda. Mount Entoto is part of the Entoto Hills, reaching 3,200 meter above sea level. It offers spectacular views of Addis Ababa in all directions. Think: the Addis Alps. (Actually, it is just an extended Ethiopian highlands.) Shiro Meda is the tradition clothing and craft marketplace recommended by the well-dressed women we met at Amist Kilo in the early days of our trip





Our route: Bus to Arat Kilo. Minibus to Shiro Meda. Minibus to end of line at Kusquam. Minibus up the hill to Entoto. (The Bradt offers an aside that the 17 bus - which leaves from Piassa - might just get us part way there.)





We reach the Shiro Meda shopping area, ready to head uphill. There is a curious mix of old semi-rural and new professional class housing along the way. Along the way we drove through a dense eucalyptus forest. For Carol, it was love at first sight. These trees were imported from Australia and planted in the late 1800s as firewood became scarcer in the surrounding hills. More were planted over the next 50 or so years; they remain the dominant tree in the greater Addis Ababa area. They are ideally suited to the soil and climate, and provide much needed safeguards against erosion. They also provide much needed supplies of firewood and building materials for local people. More about their harvest and their harvesters below.





Entoto was the palace home of Emperor Menelik II and his wife, Empress Taitu. It was built in 1882, way up at the top of the hill, overlooking a broad valley.





"In 1886, Menilik II came down from the heights of Mount Entoto, where he had thought to establish his capital, to join his wife, Taitu, who had already sampled the advantages of the natural hot springs (Filwoha) at the foot of the mountain." Addis quickly grew up in the lands below the palace. Always trust a woman's eye for real estate.


Nowadays, you come into a gated area and buy a ticket for admission to the Menelek II Museum and Palace Museum.  The museum has many artefacts from the Emperor - costumes with intricate embroidery and gifts from world leaders of the time. We snuck a few photos when the guard wasn't looking. We also walked around the large, multilevel, octagonal Entoto Maryam Church hosted Menelik's coronation.   Beautiful.





On a good day, you get great views of Addis up on Entoto. We got so-so views because of a kind of smog condition that surrounded the city. Rather reminiscent of Tehran (or even Denver at certain times). However, the temperature had progressively dropped as we ascended and the air was much fresher at the top.





After a while it was time to head back downhill.  Carol was eager to walk at least part of the way, but Mike was saving his strength for later. Minibuses in that direction are temporarily scarce. The crowd is getting larger.  A minibus comes along - a flat bed truck with seats in the back - but everybody else is on it before we can even move to get on.




While we are waiting we see women with huge piles of wood on their backs, slowly walking downhill to the market. The loads extend out maybe 4 feet on either side.  These women are some of the Women Fuel Wood Carriers, about whom we will talk shortly.




A tourist bus carrying 18-20 ferengi comes up and parks near the entrance gate.  The locals (including some of the woman wood carriers) gather round.  Nothing is happening - are the tourists getting their 15 minute orientation talk? Are they preparing their cameras for the interesting "fauna' that have just appeared? Finally, the tourists emerge and there is a ferengi-local scrum.



Finally, a minibus comes, and we are on for the lovely ride back to Kusquam.  At Kusquam, there is an immediate minibus to Shiro Meda. 





We get off before Shiro Meda, and walk back a little to a beautiful church.  It is locked, but just walking around it is worthwhile.  Back to the road, and the beginnings of the Shiro Meda markets.  All the traditional Ethiopian clothing you could ever want is for sale (along with tchotchkes, printed tee shirts, backpacks - you get the idea). A short way in there is a sign to turn west for "The Former Women Fuelwood Carriers Association.  Hand woven Textile Products - Display and Shop." We turn here, and walk downhill.  Mike stops and purchases 4 bananas for 6 birr (32 cents).  It is a little walk to the shop complex, but finally, there it is.
 

The Former Women Fuel Wood Carriers Association (FWFWCA) was established in 1994 to improve the lives of Ethiopian women who manually cut down eucalyptus wood (often illegally) outside the city, carry that wood into the marketplaces of the city, and sell it for a pittance.



From the World Bank:
 "...Women Fuel Carriers (WFC) walk up to 15 kilometers out-and-back daily to collect and bring loads of up to 45 kilograms to the markets. The WFC include girls and women, ranging in age from 16 to 63. While the WFC perform an essential service within the urban energy sector, they average a daily income of less than US $0.50 cent and operate under extremely harsh and, often, inhuman conditions: having to walk long distances on stiff terrains with heavy loads, often barefoot; being subjected to harassment from forest guards and having to pay bribes to be able to bring the loads to market; being exposed to all weather conditions without adequate clothing and protection; and even being exposed to sexual assault, placing them under high HIV/AIDS risk. It is estimated that there are at least 30,000 WFC among the major urban centers of Ethiopia."





FWFWCA provides an alternate future source of income by teaching valuable skills like weaving, and providing access to the materials and tools needed to produce and sell baskets, scarves, and carpets. Currently, the group is set to expand its reach and focus on both poverty and the environment by offering a broader range of skills, including forestry management.





We walk into the complex. There are women in the process of producing handwoven baskets from scratch.  Another part of the complex contains numerous looms, with folks weaving all sorts of stuff.



We talk to an American woman from Ohio who is flying back on the same plane as we are (although we could not find her).  She is helping with marketing in the States.  She has visions of these baskets and scarves being sold all over the US:  if only FWFWCA can just increase the quantity they produce.  On the grounds there is a day care and a school for the kids.  The American woman is taking pictures of the kids.  Marketing materials?





Carol goes shopping, and pretty soon we are buying postcards, 2 baskets and 8 scarves.  The price is right, the cause is admirable, and we need souvenirs and gifts.  (When we mention our visit later to guests at Taitu Hotel, it turns out that a remarkable number of the people we talk to have also shopped here.)





By now, Mike eaten his 4 bananas.  Do they have a trash container?  Nope.  Silly question. Just go outside and throw the peels into the bushes.





Back up to the main street.  Pretty soon, our 17 bus comes along.  Onto the bus, past the American Embassy, past Sidist Kilo, turn at Amist Kilo, past the Kitfo & Fish Restaurant, up the hill, and we are at Piassa. Easy peasy.





Back at the hotel restaurant, we are trying to decide what we are going to eat for lunch. Lo and behold, there is a bearded Jew, with wife and small child.  He is just as out of place in Ethiopia as is possible.





It turns out that he is a Chabad Rabbi, and an Israeli.  He has been sent here (Addis) to open a Chabad house.  Carol immediately regrets not having formalized her bet with Mike that we WOULD find a Chabad rabbi on this trip.





We walk with him into the dining area, where he approaches several Caucasian women. In his accented English he asks them, "Are you Jews?" One somewhat mystified woman replies, "Do you want juice?"





The rabbi tells us that there is a synagogue about 3 blocks away.  He invites us, and of course, we are game. He grabs a taxi for his family and us.  We would have walked, but . . . now, we are his guests. Right at the beginning of the fruit and vegetable market, just up the street from the mosque we passed while walking to the Merkato, the taxi turns into a private parking area. There is a two-story building with two Jewish stars on the gate.  We had passed by here several times before but had no reason to investigate further.





A local has the key.  Soon, we are in.  The rabbi shows us some old rooms on the ground floor. There are two large-ish holes in the ground: former mikvehs?? one for the women and one for the men.  He is going to try to rebuild them but needs some money.





This synagogue has nothing to do with the Falashas.  Early on in Addis' history, there was a community of a hundred or so Jewish Yemeni traders.  They established a synagogue, procured 3 Torahs (still here), and formed a community in this neighborhood.  Time passes, and there are only 5 Yemeni families left, scattered all over Addis.  The synagogue is only open for Yom Kippur.





We climb the stairs to the second level and go into the sanctuary.  Our Rabbi puts tfillin on Mike (assuming he has no idea how to do it himself), and has him daven a basic shacharit.  Never mind that it is after 1:30 PM.  He takes lots of pictures of Mike.  Marketing materials?


At the same, the rebbetzin tells Carol the story of a Jewish woman from Brazil on her way to Israel who had a heart attack at the Addis Ababa airport. The Rabbi took care of kosher food for her and helped to arrange an airlift to Israel for her.





We  ask the rabbi if we can see the Torah scrolls. The have fancy cylindrical Sephardic-style cases. As we leave, we give him a reasonable contribution, and walk back to the hotel.  It is time for some internet posting.


At 3:30 PM we take a break and walk over to the local Ethiopian Airlines office to reconfirm our tickets. There is a poster touting medical tourism to Thailand.  (Later on we will learn that had we been going out that evening (12 Feb) we would have been in serious trouble. Washington Dulles was going to be snowed in on the morning of 13 Feb, and no flights were going to be allowed to land.)




Back for some more internet.




About 6:30 PM it is time to get over to the Chinese restaurant.  The guide book shows it to be in Kazanchis, on Jomo Kenyatta Street on the top floor of the Waf Building.  We take a minibus to Kazanchis.  It stops about 1 km or slightly more from where the restaurant should be. The street is totally torn up for urban redevelopment and the light rail line. Pretty deserted, but walkable over rough terrain.  We press on - after all, we had confirmed this morning that Sichuan Restaurant was still around. 


It is now dark, close to 7:30 PM.  The Waf building is closed up. There is a restaurant in the building next door.  We sit down. Wrong cuisine: not the Sichuan. By this time we are getting frustrated. A local tells us that Sichuan Restaurant has moved to the Intercontinental Hotel, which happens to be located a block or two past where we got off in the first place %$!&! So we walk back the way we came, and then even a bit more. 


The Intercontinental is one of these $200+ a night places for people lodging on someone else's dime: very fancy.  Elaborate security to enter. We say: "Sichuan Restaurant?"  They direct us inside.  We sit down.  Wrong cuisine again. Not the Sichuan.




We are beyond frustrated.  As we walk back to where we would catch a minibus back to Piassa, we pass an internet café.  We take 2 minutes and get a new address for Sichuan, maybe 50-75 m south of the Intercontinental, in the Jonny building.  Sure enough it is there, on the first (balcony) level. 


By now, it is past 8:15 PM. We go in and order dry fried eggplant and mapo tofu.  The waitress asks us if the dry fried eggplant should be in a sauce or not.  We say dry.  We get tea and a Fanta pineapple soda that Carol wants to try.



The restaurant has a good turnout of NGO types and locals.  People are getting food, but service is slow.  They give us complimentary eggrolls.  Carol is actually falling asleep at the table. We are on the verge of leaving when our food finally comes.  The eggplant is pretty good, sort of like what we get in our Szechuan restaurants.  The tofu in the mapo tofu is kind of strange in texture, rather like it came out of a can.  The dish tastes of Ethiopian pepper, rather than Sichuan pepper and flavors. Mike opines that, if American-Chinese is not Chinese, then Ethio-Chinese should not be Chinese either. Carol thinks ... why not just eat Ethiopian in Ethiopia?




It is now 10 PM.  This meal was the most expensive of our whole trip, coming in at about $13 US in total.  The streets are empty of minibuses, so we must take a taxi back to our hotel (another 200 birr [$10.50]).


This outing was an interesting experiment, but if we had to do it again, we would certainly do it differently.