The After Party

Staying at the Baha'i Centre in the late afternoon, in the quiet after the departure of the choir and their support followers, a small group of dusty travellers, 3 from Canada, one from Austalia, one from Uganda, basked in the warmth of the Ethiopian sun with a few new Ethiopian friends. Soon it became evident that the remaining crowd was off to the unnamed (or at least name not known) "tea house" in the compound up and across the street from the Baha'i centre, which is often frequented by the Baha'is. This is a recreation facility where a lot of weddings and various meetings are held. There are tennis courts and bocce pits--only men allowed, of course, and they are always full. There is a huge courtyard with spaced tables and much rearranging of the lightweight metal chairs as the flow of folks comes and goes.

Our rather bereft little group drifted over, too, and soon were surrounded by a laughing, happy party of friends. Our table had to be extended and chairs brought and soon we were drinking shai the sweet dark Ethiopian tea. It's very good, served very hot in a small glass. Somehow even this small amount is so thirst quenching. We were treated to boboli the unsweetened fried doughnut of local repute and so many stories of the Jubilee. Everyone had such a wonderful time over the four days!

Soon we decided that we were very tired, and Parvin and I headed back to the hotel for dinner. Wes Baker (Uganda) joined us for his last night in the same hotel, as he was moving in the morning to the Baha'i Endowment House, named Sabri House after the first Baha'is here.

After a delicious dinner, we went back to our room to say prayers together for Keith who started chemotherapy that day and for Doug who was having trouble from a surgery on his hand which had became infected.

We'd already decided that Tuesday would be a day of rest for us, since the whirlwind tour with the choir had actually been quite exhausting. I was still a bit weak after my bout with tourista and Parvin had developed an allergy ever since being in the room with "Lucy". After our usual sumptuous breakfast, we took long showers (unlike most places this hotel has a lovely hot water shower and sufficient water pressure), did our laundry, rested for a little while and then decided we were bored. So, we walked out to the market places (right outside our door, really, and quite safe), looking at things. There really is not much in the way of souvenirs, as I may have mentioned. The carving and jewellry makers, even if technically from Ethiopia, are Turkana, from the south and the products really look more Tanzanian or Kenyan. There are a few authentic things, of course; intricate embroidery, shawls, clothing, fine gauzy cotton, some carvings. This is not an area of mask-makers, much. We decided to take our taxi to Post Office area again to have a look at things there. Of course, he loves to show off his city and so we see some very interesting side routes and many back ways. We had a lovely time just wandering in the heat and looking at "stuff" and considering whether we might buy. Both of us did pick up a few small things, but really were just looking. Before we knew it, two hours had passed, and Terefe came looking for us. Poor man! He didn't tell us that he was only allowed to park for 1/2 hour (it certainly didn't look like a parking lot to us, just a rocky, broken side of the road, beside the open sewage ditch (fortunately, empty)) and so had received 2 parking tickets! As we started to pull out of the space, a slim, very young woman in a yellow uniform, looking very officious, stood so he could not move the car without hitting her with the front fender. Terefe reached into his pocket and pulled out 2-1Birr notes (about 20 cents) and gave them to her for the fine. He wouldn't hear of letting us pay him back, though I'm sure that he is doing OK with our business to him.

Taxis are an intersting business here. There are three kinds. Yellow taxis, licensed by the government, and "guaranteed" to be safe, licensed by a different department of the government for international travellers' use, more knowledgeable about the country and the city. They are also insured, which in this city of astouding driving confusion, is a big deal. This is the kind Terefe drives. You can get them to take you someplace directly, and bargain with them for the price, or you can become "customer" which means he is at your disposal 24 hours a day and will only charge you for the places you go, but at a higher rate than other blue taxis. We have done this with Terefe, as we feel very safe with him and have become friends. We use other means of transportation too, to save money, but the major times we need a stong man around, he is there. He tells us of his wife and two small daughters, whom he loves to distraction. The housekeeper in our hotel, who works about 70+ hours a week and has a small baby at home, makes 320 Birr a month (about $32 US). We figured that a man who drives such a taxi must make about double that in an average month. So far we have paid him in almost three weeks about 500 to 600 Birr ($50 -$60 US) and he has driven us really long distances and come to get us when we phone, when it can't possibly be convenient for him. We were touched that as the weeks have gone by, he has come in a new shirt, new shirt and pants, a new sweater; he brings us greetings from his wife. So even though it is a bit more for us to travel this way, there are a lot of advantages.

The second kind of taxi is the blue and white. These are everything you think about about a "broken down taxi". No guarantees; don't set foot inside until you have bargained for and agreed on a price (no easy job for farenjis), no insurance, but cheap and quick enough. Great for going a short distance, especially if you know a bit of where you are going so you can direct them, as there are no addresses in Addis--few street names that anyone recognizes and no building numbers. One exception to this is the Sabri House, which everyone knows as "Rwanda" because it is on that street.

The third type of taxi is the blue and white mini-bus. Constructed like the East African matatchu, they have much stricter rules about occupancy. being strictly limited to 11, which is the number of seats. They are very cheap and the price is set, and you can only go where they are going--rather like going bus stop to bus stop. You can hear the drivers' assistants all day, yelling the destination, either from the side of the street where they are standing waiting for the bus to fill, or as they whiz by, leaning out the side of the open door or window "Kotobey!" (where Shokufeh lives with Zalelem and Gail) or "Howlett!" (shopping area). It takes a while to get used to the accent, but soon enough, we are able to understand. They're kinda fun to ride in, actually.