The Pied Piper of Abyssinia...

Another long buy amazing email from Simon.


Hey there,

Kassala had been lovely, as I reported in the last mail. I was a little sun-burnt from walking in the mountains with my top off (it was the only way to keep cool - I did cover up though when I ran into the screaming & yelping goat herds who live at high altitude and carry axes, but my muslim pale body wasn't used to the blasting it got), but otherwise a diet of Sudanese hospitality with beautiful views (you can see the mountains of Eritrea in the very distance from the right
places) had given me a good feeling and was a welcome way to finish my time there.

I headed down to Gedaref, the closest town to the Ethiopian border, planning to spend the night there, prepare myself, and cross over the next day, as I'd been warned that there was no-where to stay at the border. However, on arriving, and finding that the cheap hotel was full, that the main street called 'A Million Fools' was called that for a reason (the folks of Gedaref were rude, grasping and generally unpleasant), I decided that spending lots of money for the priviledge
of being jeered at and grabbed by these most unSudanese of people was ridiculous, so decided to risk crossing over even though it was getting on in the afternoon.

I was concerned though, was this a foretaste of things to come? I'd heard that Ethiopia was hard work, that people were rude and unfriendly. Was Gedaref like this because of its proximity to
Ethiopia? Thoughts like this were going through my head as the bus conductor yelled "MONEY, MONEY, MONEY!" in my face then went off swearing when I showed him my ticket proving I'd paid already.

The journey towards the border was beautiful, made even more so by the setting sun. The rolling agricultural land, yellowed with harvested wheat, was interrupted by increasing varieties of trees - my first Baobabs! - villages of conical, thatched huts (or Tukuls) and shepherds leading their great herds of long-horned, humped cattle to drink at watering holes. It seemed incredibly African, and was refreshing after long periods of flat desert.

I arrived on the border just after the sun had disappeared, my last call to prayer ringing in my ears. Procedings were remarkably easy, especially as some self appointed guides decided to help me out for some small change. Suddenly I was in Ethiopia, unprepared, not knowing a word of Amharic, and in a town not described in any guidebooks. I looked round the few corrugated iron shacks around me in a state of some bemusement.

Two guys walking past noticed my lost state, and after some gesturing and pidgeon communication, took me to a hotel. I took them out for a meal to say thankyou - food and drinks for 3 came to 2 pounds, and was delicious and totally different to what I've been eating for the last 5 months. It's Lent currently which means everyone in the country becomes Vegan (they abstain from food completely from the Thursday before Good Friday till the morning of Easter Sunday - traditionally when Ethiopia's enemies have inflicted heavy casualties on their
armies!), but the vegetarian food is lovely here.

After bidding them goodbye (I'd picked up a few Amharic words by this time), I had a few beers to break the drought, and headed back. I had been told in no uncertain terms to be at the bus station by 5 in the morning, or miss the only bus out. I'd only seen Metemma, this border
town, in darkness, and I liked it that way. It had a vibe not unlike a festival, a street of lights and music, which the light of day could only show to be a easily dispersed sham.

The trip up into the highlands was spectacular, though I kept drifting off for a lot of it. The landscape is incredible here - vaguely reminicent of the Guatemalan highlands. Its beauty surpassed my expectations, and I hadn't even been to the Simien Mountains yet. In
fact, I spent a full week after arriving in Gondar, the old 17th & 18th century capital.

Whilst the city is full of castles and buildings of the sort you don't normally associate with Africa (it's frequently called Africa's Camelot), I've been spending most of the week just chilling out and
getting used to being here. After a month of pretty constant travel in the Sudan, it's been nice to chill out and spend a few days reading and drinking the incredible coffee, as well as getting over what I can only presume was culture shock.

Through no real choice of mine I seem to have spent almost all my travelling time in Muslim countries, and despite their very obvious diffirences I guess there's a bedrock of similarities which I'd always coasted on. Ethiopia is very different...

Superficially it's conservative, and indeed, most of the people I've heard complaining about rude locals have been wearing shorts. You do see a lot of people walking around in smart clothes, white shawls, and carrying bright umbrellas as parasols. You also see a lot of prostitutes dressed somewhat differently, but they are considered to be doing an honorable trade, and it's seen as a good way for young women to make money to get themselves an education. Luckily they're
not too forward, and retain a lot of dignity even in the face of some pissed-up locals.

The place of women is quite unusual - in the cities (and apparnetly especially Addis) they are almost considered equals; very unusual for Africa. I have detected a kind of 50s condecension towards them though, and in the country they are expected to do the heavy lifting,
and, well, work, whilst the men do the important stuff like standin around chatting.

A lot of the young people are very fashionably dressed in the towns, looking pretty London (and pretty pretty - the Ethiopians not falling short of their reputation for gorgeousness). On the other hand, a lot of women are coverd in tattooes of crosses and evil-eye repelling swirls on foreheads, cheekbones, chins and necks, and a couple of Gondar guys were naked (crazy, not tribal, I believe, unless there's a "we're all fucking mental" tribe). Also, no-one seems to have any compunctions about pissing or shitting in the street, which doesn't make for splendiferous odours on the hotter days.

If I was worried about missing the call to prayer then they certainly eased me out of it, as all through Lent the priests seemed to love getting on the mic and doing their strangely hypnotic chants which last for hours, and echo from their round, hilltop churches. The churchyards swarm with white swathed pilgrims, kissing the steps, the gaily painted walls, the doors, the ground, being passed holy water to keep them refreshed, or cheekily nipping back the homebrew Tella (which looks like lumpy puddlewater) with pissed priests, who sway a little more than usual when giving their post tipple benediction. Everyone crosses themselves when passing churches (including ruined ones), as do bus drivers, which can be a little trying on the nerves.

The priests wander around in Renaissance style turbans and bright coloured shawls, and people bend to kiss their crosses and have them touched to their foreheads. Sometimes they bend double and the priest pretends to kiss them on each cheek 5 times. It's all very far away
from the CofE.

It is also significantly poorer than most countries I've been in, a fact attested to by the larger number of beggars than usual as well as the frequent power & water cuts.

It has its own food (deliciously spicy served on a sour bathmat), its own music (not quite as daring, distinct or funky as its 60s & 70s heydeys), its own script (231 characters), its own calander (with 13 months, and the fact we're in 2001) and its own time (which starts with 6 in the morning being 12, so you know that sunset will be at 1 o'clock in the evening, and the buses will invariably leave between 11 and 12 in the morning WHICH IS WRONG).

All of this contributed somewhat to the feeling of displacement, of not really being present, and of being somewhat at a loss after planning to come here for 8 years as to what to actually do once I'm here. It was a feeling a little akin to being in a bubble. Luckily, whilst up on a hill overlooking the magnificence of Gondar, surrounded by more swooping birds than I'd ever seen, a wind rose up and blew through me, and I was there.

And what a place to be! Ethiopia is incredibly beautiful, even now at the end of the dry season. The weather is perfect: almost always sunny, but with very occasional massive storms that blow over very quickly, and with the temperature regulated by altitude to a balmy 20 - 30 degrees, with a pleasing coolness in the evening which doesn't prevent short sleeves from being worn. Ethiopians always refer to the weather as 'their air conditioning', which I'm not sure is a witicism
which has long since lost its humorous side, or simply another Ethiopianism.

The people here are amazing as well, not at all like I expected. There's always a collection of 'professional friends' in the main tourist spots, but once you've assured them you don't want a
guide/some weed/a prostitute/anything at all they tend to leave you alone. In the more rural areas I've been astonished by peoples friendliness and generosity. People have kept buying me things when my back is turned, and I've had to lash out by buying people beers and food without asking them or they'd never accept it. They have a great concept of sharing out here, which seems entirely better than the Egyptian concept of 'taking other people's stuff because they won't mind, and could take my stuff if they really wanted'. My camera's still a bit dodgy after an Egyptian 'borrowed it' whilst I was asleep and took 40 pictures of himself with his shit-eating grin because he was bored and was sure I wouldn't mind.

The only real problem can be the kids. In the most these are fine, they run towards you and shake your hand, circle you chanting "Is beautiful!" in Amharic, or just follow you for h o u r s, especially in rural areas. That can make it especially difficult to get some alone time, as the fact that you can live and grow stuff pretty much anywhere means that there's not really anywhere where you're away from habitation. The kids sometimes follow you in shifts, or you just develop a huge human tail as you lead them into the mountains. Most of them will offer a timid "Money?" before they leave, just in case, like, but some of them will chase you screaming "MONEY PEN MONEY PEN MONEY PEN MONEY PEN" until you onder what the penalty for infanticide is out here. There's too many of the little blighters anyway...

Gonder was good - it was surreal walking around 400 year old castles under an African sun, especially as I met a Brazillian girl who had to leave the country the next day and unloaded a Henry on me. There were also some cool cluns where they have minsterals who are a cross
between a stand-up comic and a musician, and they improvise lyrics about how great you are whilst playing a zither and dancing around. Which is cool.

However, it was in the Simien mountains that I really found happiness. It's some of the most dramatic scenary on earth; you're basically walking along a kilometre high cliff (its good for curing vertigo -eventually you get bored of being scared) whilst old lava crags tumble down beneath you. All around team the hundreds of Gelada Baboons which seem pretty uninterested in you even as you crawl in amongst them. Klippspringer bound away after giving you a good
onceover. Amazingly I even saw a troop of 10 Walia Ibex - there's only about 300 left in the world. We also saw a leopard stalking them, but despite waiting for an hour or so it never attacked. Later on a huge Waliawith horns longer than my legs came down for a nibble
by our camp. I got within about 10 metres of him taking photos, when a 4 wheel drive came rumbling towards us, the Walia panicked and rushed towards me. It passed within an arms breadth of me which was all pretty exciting.

I decided that trying to rank the most beautiful places on Earth was a pointless task, but it really was astonishing here, and I met a lot of very cool people, not least my scout, Awooga. He was impeccably dressed in a green pin-striped lounge suit and carried his knock-off AK47 with ease. We actually forged quite a cool friendship despite him not speaking any English. He helped teach me Amarigna with the help of my phrasebook and a lot of miming and jokes. I was really
happy that he still really appreciated how beautiful it was, and the time we climbed a mountain he'd never been up before he was really stoked, as was he when we saw the leopard (which I suspect may have been a Hyeena, but he was so excited i thought I'd go along with him).

It was just incredible to sit looking out over miles of the beutiful scenary in the dying light, with little huts 5 days mule trek from a road a kilometre below you. I felt a real peace here. Unfortunately I once again forgot the suncream and suffered from some more sun damage despite my by now quite deep tan. Even the Ethiopians get ravaged by the sun if they spend too much time in it, their black skin no defense against the altitude.

After that it was onto Axum, the capital of an ancient Empire which in the middle of the first millenium was ranked with Rome, China & Persia as the 4 greatest of its day. It was a hefty journey north into the Tigrai area, on unmade roads that sprinkled pink dust everywhere,
coating the trees and roadsides. When you looked across to the opposite side of a valley you were crossing where the road tickled its way up the other side, it looked like someone had gone mental on a photo with a pink highlighter. Tigrai has a lot more flat plains inbetween the vertiginous mountains, but is nonetheless spectacular for that. It also seems more relaxed, partly because it's hotter and sunnier than further South, and because less tourists make it this far North.

Axum is full of amazingly cut granite stelae which are far taller than anything in Egypt, as well as lots of intricately finished tombs. Despite this, 98% of the site hasn't been excavated, a lot that has has never been published, and no-one really knows shit about shit. It was a really relaxed place to wander about in with a healthy sense of wonder. I particularly took to the free public library in an old Italian Palazzo, and spent much of my time alternating between there
and the Juice bar, with occasional walks round the sites and the surrounding country-side.

I was there for Fasika - their Easter - and after indulging myself of some Tudor Royalty wandered out into the streets after midnight when all the Church services start. People were wandering between churches in their white shawls, or leaning against the holy stones, whilst
chanting blared out over loudspeakers accompanied by occasional trumpets and drumming. People were really friendly, and everyone was excited about eating meat after abstaining for 60 days during Lent. One guy told me "You don't know how hard it us for us not to eat Livestock!"

I also went to an incredible live music night in a giant Tukul. It seemed all the musical talent in town was taking it in turn to get up and give some on stage, and all of Axum had turned up to dance the night away. Ethiopian dancing mostly involves shuddering the shoulders whilst keeping your head sassy, and kind of going round in a circle with your mates whilst you're at it. It's vaguely remeniscent of a slightly erotic children's party, or a robotic barn dance.
Joining in is fun, hugely encouraged, and really really hot. Who'd have thought making your shoulders vibrate would be so energetic.

It was then on to spending a night in Debre Damo, a monastery on top of an Amba - or plateau surrounded by cliffs. You have to scale this by climbing up an old leather rope - the monks are pretty nifty at it. No-one's quite sure how they got the rocks up to build the church a 1,000 years ago. The monks swear a flying snake carried the first priest up. No women are allowed, including female animals, except for hens so they can eat eggs and cats because "The Priests like cats." There was rather an unspoken word there about what the priests don't like but I let that pass.

I stayed with some priests in their house, and shared their Tella and taste in music. They were showing me lots of videos on their mobile phones - truly the 21st century has arrived. A lot showed Jesus doing miracles or being nailed to the cross cut with scenes of white shawled
Ethiopians swaying and clapping at various religious sites. One was a literal riot with Samson beating up the Romans and Lions and generally proving that he was well hard - the priests all agreed that with my long hair I should be very strong like him. The wierdest ones were
from the Derg era, lots of military hardware. One of the priests laughed heartily every time the big guns fired, which I found a bit disconcerting, as was the fact that the music was some of the most upbeat I've heard out here.

Since then I've been travelling around finding rock hewn churches, some of them huge, chiselled from the living rock hundreds upon hundreds of years ago and still used as the local place of worship. Some of them are huge, and the amount of rock that must have been removed by hand boggles the mind. Others are tiny but with exquisite paintings - including a very reggae Saint George. A lot of the time the walk around the astoundingly beautiful countryside is half the
pleasure, as well as meeting locals who seem flabbergasted to meet me. Most Ethiopians have no idea that these churches exist, or if they do they think of them just as where they go to pray, and not as a tourist attraction.

In all it's been surpassing my expectations, which is just as well after 8 years build up. I'm making my way down slowly to Addis - should be there in 3 weeks or so - before settling down for a bit. This e-mails already far too long so I'll stop there for now, but please keep sending me mails as it's great to hear from you and it's good to have mail on the days I wrestle with the poo connection long enough to get into my inbox.

Hope you're all doing the very best. Love and magic,

Simon