Ethiopian Christians celebrated Easter last weekend. With everyone spending time with their families and our compound deserted, we felt this would be a great opportunity to experience some of the local culture during the holidays.
Two days before Easter, farmers from the surrounding regions of Addis Ababa bring their livestock into the city, and gather in meat markets that take place by roadside clearings. We had an opportunity to attend one of these meat markets. With a sea of cows, goats and people occupying the roundabouts on the major highways, these markets were tough to avoid when commuting through the city. 3-6 families would get together and purchase an animal at one of these markets, and find all sorts of creative ways to take them home. We found people giving goats piggy-back rides, oxen tied to the backs of pick-up trucks, kids riding cows, goats tied to the tops of cars, and even a person loading a number of chickens into the trunk of his car.
The night before Easter, Christians gather in churches to participate in ceremonies that carry through to the following morning. At 6 am Easter day, the families go back home to slaughter the animals they had purchased and the holiday festivities begin. And this is where our story takes place.
At 6:15 am, the driver showed up – unusually punctual, to our compound to take us to the University campus. Speeding through the empty streets of Addis, we pulled into the parking lot and found the university dean, Wobshet among others gathered around a table, in a nearby clearing. As we got closer, we found on the table a pile of irregularly diced cubes of raw meat along with bottles of the local liquor.
In Ethiopia, it is a delicacy to eat freshly slaughtered meat on major holidays. Considering they had been restraining from meat for a month, this was the perfect way to break the fast. Although we were assured it was perfectly safe to eat the meat, the three of us retrained form participating in the local tradition. Once Wobshet had gathered his share of oxen, he took us to his sister’s house for lunch.
Wobshet’s sister lived in one of the shantytowns on the other end of the city. Although he was hesitant to take us at first, we were committed to get a taste of the whole Ethiopian experience. Walking through the narrow dark streets of the shantytown, we discovered a number of closely packed houses with mud walls and roofs made from stapled pieces of sheet metal. Among these were other gated lots, behind which poked little houses made from clay walls and eucalyptus framed roofs. As we looked around in awe, we found people stared in equal amazement right back at us. Where we thought we were experiencing something new and learning about a different culture, the locals were also observing what was foreign to them. One man even came up to us and took a picture of us! Often kids would run by, or wave at us yelling, ‘frengie’ – local for ‘white person’, and when we would wave back, they would scurry behind their mothers and friends, embarrassed. Anytime we would nod or say hello to a local, their faces would light up, and the biggest smile would creep from underneath their noses. If only it was this easy to spread happiness every day.
When one normally thinks of the slums, the thought of a gloomy, dirty place where people live sad, unfulfilled lives comes to mind. This place told quite the different story. The people who lived here had dug trenches to create a sewage system for themselves, they kept dogs and cats to keep disease-carrying rodents away, and there was minimal garbage. Most importantly were the people. The kids happily ran up and down the narrow streets, the mothers watched or catered to duties at home, and the men were either away or busy running around. There was so much life here, so much energy. There was nothing to feel sorry about – these people had built a life for themselves, and they were happy to share it with those who visited.
Wobshet’s sister lived in one of the gated communities mentioned earlier, in a cozy little house with a fireplace in the main room – surrounded by couches, and a small T.V in a corner playing local music videos. As we entered, she approached us with open arms as Wobshet translated we were the first ‘Frengie’ to have ever ventured into the area. Over the next few minutes, we met her husband, her 3 children, and others who lived nearby. One by one, they brought out bread, a number of local dishes from marinated meat broth to a diced egg/vegetable medley, cheeses, honey Champaign, home-made beer, and coffee. Where we in the Western world have our special trades as bread-makers and wine brewers, Ethiopians are skilled across a broad spectrum, from churning their own butter, to fermenting their own wheat, to roasting their own coffee beans. And they’re very good at it too – the food was absolutely delicious!
The tight-knit familial environment was clear – everyone had a role to play in the family, and there were no boundaries between neighbors and others in the community. People came in and out, wished us a Happy Easter, and shared what they could. The hospitality Wobshet’s sister and her family showed us was heart-warming. Although she spoke very little English, and we exchanged very few words, her enduring smile gave away how content she was of us chowing down her cooking.
As we got up to say good-bye, our stomachs full and our hearts whole from this thought-provoking experience, Wobshet’s sister told us to please visit her again. With a meal like that and three more weeks in Addis, I have a feeling this won’t be the first and only time we’ll see her!