Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Addis in the Morning
The moslem call to prayer reverberates through the morning air and mingles with the sound of roosters, dogs, a cow bellowing, and little blue and white taxi cabs honking, as the sun rises from behind the mountain.
I step out onto the balcony. People are beginning to move about and the ever-present aroma of cooking fires and diesel smoke intermingles with the smells of thousands of people living on the streets attacks my nosrils.
Down in the parking lot someone is trying to start a car. The sound of the starter is grinding as the battery gets weaker but the driver persists.
In the dining room I am the only patron. The tile floor is gleaming and the young women, in their red and black uniforms, are speaking softly. They always do. Polite, gentle, willing to help, although speed at work in addis, is it seems, to be shunned.
The sound of their voices rises and falls musically, like water over the stones in a small creek. Doors olpen and close. The sound of the voices subsides. They have changed shifts.
Outside, finally, the car belches to life.
In the lobby a wide screen TV is playing an American cartoon in English, a surprise, since in our room the TV programs are all in other languages.
Two distinguished looking men are sitting on a sofa, one in traditional garb, the other wearing a western style business suit. They seem to be having a very deep discussion. They pause and both intently watch the cartoon for a few minutes and then, as if on cue, they return to their conversation.
Out on the street, on my way to Bambis market, the street people are already in their usual places, offering me pirated videos, maps of Ethiopia, or just loitering. Sheep are being herded down the sidewalk and hordes of people are walking.
The market is closed. No sign, no explanation, just closed. That is the way it is in this city of four million people.
As I walk back to the hotel the Muslim call to prayer has changed to preaching. It blares on, and on, and on.
Ain't God good?
Charlie
