Dust in the Wind

I took a few bites, but I think she saw I was struggling. "No good?" she asked, apologetically. What should I do? Shaking my head could be interpreted as if it was no good, but nodding could confirm her question that the food was no good...

"Konjo..." - what was the name of the meat again? Oh, never mind... - "Konjo injera!" Then I tried to explain that I wasn't used to this, and I probably needed to adapt.

"Pasta?" she then asked.

Pasta? Spaghetti or macaroni? That sounded so good! But I was afraid she would prepare it immediately if I confirmed. "Not now. For now, I've had enough, but maybe for dinner?"

"Dinner!" she repeated; satisfied. "Now, buna!"

This time, I only took one cup of each brew - Mulunesh only took one cup from the first and then stopped drinking herself. Nevertheless, I already realized this coffee ceremony was very time-consuming!

After lunch, I decided to go for a stroll, the lazy morning had made me feel restless. First, I went to the toilet - the diarrhea was far from over yet, I definitely needed to ask Mulunesh for more toilet paper! I mixed another solution to stop it, swallowed, and went on the street. Fortunately, before I went too far, I remembered to save the location on my telephone - at least I was safe in that aspect...

I slowly walked the yellow-brown dusty gravel roads, taking up the environment; everywhere I walked I heard a buzz of the people around me. Some of the bolder children called loudly "Ferengi!" and when I looked in their direction, they either dug away or they waved at me. At least, they kept their distance. At some of the cross roads, some old women sat on the ground, silently begging, but it was not as intrusive as I had experienced on the larger streets before.

I wondered if I could find the place back again, where I had my first coffee ceremony. I had no clue where it was, what it was called, and how to get there, and I feared I would never find it again. I thought it would be easiest to go back to the hotel I had stayed before, and then to start walking from there. However, how would I get to that hotel...

I looked at the minibuses, but of course, I had no clue which to take, so I abandoned that idea even before it had formed. Instead I asked directions to some of the people on the street, and it turned out that, so far, I had been walking in the wrong direction.

I strode quickly, head up, repeating 'man on a mission, man on a mission' in my head. I didn't want the attention of those kids again, although most of them might be at school at this moment...

After a walk of about half an hour I arrived at the hotel. On the way, I had entered a number of internet cafés, but apparently there was no connection, so I couldn't contact my family. Starting from the hotel, I first walked back in the direction from where I'd come from, as I thought it was that way I had to go. However, after a few meters, my intestines started to get restless, so I decided to get a drink back in the hotel, and take the opportunity to empty my bowels.

It probably was the warmest moment of the day - the son was burning, and even though I didn't feel that thirsty yet, I knew it was important to keep drinking. So I ordered a large bottle of sparkling water - no more caffeine for me for today... As soon as the bottle was opened, I told the waiter to leave it on the table - I had to visit the rest-rooms. He pointed them out for me, and I walked as quickly as possible without raising curious looks upon me.

I entered the toilet room and opened the door of the only cubicle next to the urinals - damn... no toilet seat, and the large puddle on the ground indicated that I shouldn't have confidence in that the toilet bowl itself was clean ... There was no other option than hoovering above it - my feet placed in the heritage of the previous visitors... I was glad no-one else was in here - I wasn't even sure if the noise couldn't be heard outside the toilet room - gasses left my bowels for an infinite amount of time; a loud fanfare regularly disrupted by rattling and banging sounds. When I finally was done, I looked around - damn - no toilet paper. Of course!... I thought of my options - should I call someone? Then I remembered the tissues I had bought before. There had to be a package in by pocket... I sighed relieved...

The whole bowl was covered, from top to bottom, in brown spots - I wasn't even sure if all of it had ended up inside the porcelain... I did check my jeans - thankfully the legs hadn't touched the floor and I also couldn't detect any suspicious brown marks. I used a new tissue to clean the upper part of the toilet bowl, flushed - no water... Not my problem! I walked to the washing basin - no water... reminder to myself, use extra care when washing the hands before eating this evening... I went back to my table, drank my mineral water, and left the hotel.

While I walked the streets, I noticed an orange book in the windows of a bookshop. 'Amharic for foreign beginners' THAT looked really useful! And for a reasonable price, I became the happy owner of this treasure.

The rest of the walk, however, was not so successful... Soon I ended up in an area that didn't look at all like the place where I'd had coffee, and after more than an hour of wandering, I used my GPS to get back home. Still no internet...

I happily showed my course book for Amharic to Mulunesh, and she became all excited when I practiced my first sentences. However, when I asked her if she went to school, she shook her head, and when I tried to persuade her, the happiness vanished. Hence, I decided to leave that topic for now. After all, who was I, to teach her a lesson, here in Addis...

The pasta, spaghetti, tasted not too bad... I had to get used to the sauce - a minced-meat with tomato sauce, but not exactly bolognaise, very salty, very fat and a bit spicy - but to Mulunesh' satisfaction, I finished the plate.

"Pasta good?"

"Pasta delicious! Konjo pasta!!"

After she finished cleaning the dishes, I told her to leave, and went inside the house - no light... I went outside, check the street for shops that might sell lightbulbs, but unsuccessful. I did buy a large package of bottled water, though. Once at home, I placed one bottle in the fridge, which I found filled with other food; I hardly believed it was all bought by Mulunesh, so apparently the neighbors were also making use of it... I went to the toilet, took one more mix for diarrhea, washed, and went to bed. I noticed that Mulunesh had neatly placed all my belongings back in my suitcase...

The next morning, I woke up by the sound of roasting coffee again. I quickly washed and got dressed, and greeted Mulunesh, who was now accompanied by a bundle on her back, and two additional little girls of about three to five years old. I was flabbergasted - where those also Mulunesh children? I asked her, and she laughed. "Sister baby! Almaz, Elsabet. You like?" Did she bring them for me to play with?

I ripped a page from my notebook, and folded, under the curious eyes of the ladies, an airplane. Even Mulunesh couldn't withhold a surprised squeal when it glided through the air. Both little girls ran behind the plane, the oldest took it from the ground and brought it back to me. I showed them how to make it fly, and we, the older girl and I, started throwing the plane back and forth to each other. It all ended when the plane flew right in the charcoal, triggering an explosive outburst from Mulunesh, abruptly ended by a hand flying to her mouth, stopping the flow. I bent my head, looking to the ground, cheekily peeking to her, and Mulunesh laughed again, knowing I didn't mind her outburst. I folded another plane and sent the girls away with it.

The rest of the morning was a copy of the previous one - breakfast - this time some bean-stuff, coffee (only three cups this time), Milkiyas, and then I started reading the Amharic course book. Lunch was injera with more bean-stuff, and after another round of coffee, I left the house and made another failed attempt to find the place back where I had my first coffee-ceremony. When I returned, the kids were gone again. Then, I first sent Mulunesh out to buy light bulbs, and I got rice mixed with carrot for dinner - oily, but very nice!

The rest of the week was very similar. I started to get more familiar with the neighbors, on Thursday I paid a short visit to the university to drop off some stuff - Mulunesh had told me which minibus to take, I kept trying to find the location of the hotel but in vain, and to Mulunesh great delight, the sofa and chairs arrived on Friday. No coffee table, unfortunately, but it did start to look a little bit like a home, even though it was still far to empty to my liking. I had also bought a new padlock for the door - I couldn't be sure that no-one had a spare-key of the old one - and gave Mulunesh one of the keys.

On Friday, I noticed many sheep and goats being brought into town - something was happening... When I asked Mulunesh, she told me that the next day would be Christmas. Ethiopian Christmas... Of course I told her she should take that day off, to celebrate with her family, but she didn't want to hear about it.

As usual, the day started with breakfast and coffee. Mulunesh had brought a chicken with her, a living one, tied by its legs... While I was drinking coffee, I could hear it changing position, and every now and then it let out a querulous cackle.

After coffee, Mulunesh fetched a large knife from the kitchen, and gestured for me to take it - to slaughter the chicken. I wasn't having that - I'd never slaughtered any animal before, and I wasn't going to start now... I held my hands in the air and Mulunesh wavered - she would ask someone else.

Mulunesh took the chicken and went to the neighbors. A boy came out of the house, slid the throat of the chicken, and quickly placed the washing-up bowl over it. For a long time, I could hear it kicking, and I wondered if the boy had cut the poor animal well enough, but eventually the struggle settled.

Mulunesh thanked the boy and took the carcass back to our house. Once the chicken was death, it seemed less awful, and I watched how Mulunesh skillfully removed the feathers and skin, and cut the meat in different parts. When she started slicing unions and tomatoes, I went inside to continue reading my book.

Mulunesh came in and passed me a plate with injera. Then she went back to get the pan holding the meat, emitting a strong, spicy smell. When she scooped the meat and sauce on the injerra, my eyes and nose started running because of the strong steam, but nevertheless, it did smell delicious. She also placed a boiled egg in the sauce, and then left the room.

The taste was delicious! I called Mulunesh, and complemented her - she smiled shyly, but I could see she felt proud. None of the food I'd eaten so far had even come close to this, and when Mulunesh came back to check how I was doing, I'd managed to eat a considerable amount. My hands were covered in sauce, and I spilled some food on the sofa too, but that didn't spoil the fun.

It was clear to Mulunesh; "You like doro wot!" I couldn't agree more. However, I did try to stop her when she started adding more meat on the injerra. I would never be able to finish this, but Mulunesh did not take 'no' for an answer. I ate more than ever before, and finally I had to put the plate away - I was totally stuffed.

I washed my hands, and when I returned, Mulunesh had the coffee ready.

After coffee, Mulunesh asked if she could take the afternoon off; the neighbors had invited me for dinner, so that was taken care of. Of course, I didn't object, and I told her once more to take the Sunday off too.

Shortly after Mulunesh left, one of the neighbors came and took me to their house. The living room was larger than mine, and many well-dressed people were sitting on the side. I'd never seen so many men - normally I'd only see the women working outside.

I was offered a large chair with soft cushions and immediately got a glass of cola in front of me. People nodded friendly to me, but apparently no-one spoke English. One of the old men tried speaking Italic with me, but after exchanging 'bon giorno', we were both out of text. Around me, people continued their normal conversation, and I tried to pick up words I could recognize, to get some feeling of what they were talking about. Every now and then, someone looked at me, nodded, or exchanged a few words; I knew nothing better to do then smile in return.

Then I, some of the other men, and one old woman got a small, round bottle with a yellow liquid in it. 'Tej" they called it. The others lifted their bottles - "Letehnachin!"

I remembered that one, and I also lifted my bottle. "Letehnachin!" They nodded approbatory, and took a large sip. I also carefully sipped, and tasted honey, but I also noticed the alcohol - this must be honey wine. It tasted well, so I took another sip. When I placed the bottle back on the table, it was immediately refilled from a plastic jug.

A little later, I and most of the adults were given a plate, a basket with rolled injerra was handed, everybody picked out a few rolls and draped it over his or her plate. I just followed the rest. Then, one pan after the other was brought in, and copious amounts of meat and sauce were placed on our plates. In the end, almost all injerra was covered - how was I ever supposed to eat with injerra if all was covered by the food?...

"Behla!" People around me started eating, and indicated I should follow. Somehow they did manage to pull out enough injerra to eat, while I only managed to get small, soaked pieces that fell apart when I tried to wrap it around the meat and sauce. Although I'd heard it is bad manners to put your fingers in your mouth, I found no other option, and felt like everybody was looking at me. Fortunately, someone came to the rescue, offering me an extra roll of injerra, but even that one was quickly finished, and there was still plenty of meat and sauce left. Whenever I thought I was making some progress, more spoons of sauce were put on my plate.

It was nice food - some types of meat tasted better than other, but in general I liked it. However, after the terrific lunch from Mulunesh, there was hardly room for more, and when they tried to put even more on my plate, I politely tried to stop them. As they did before, they kept pushing, but this time I really didn't want more, so I kept my ground. They deliberated, and finally, someone asked me, worried, "No good?"

"Very good; conjo injerra!" I replied; "Very taste-full, but I cannot eat any more. I've had enough!"

They talked some more, asked if I wanted more tej; more cola; more something else; but I was just fine. But then, someone came to me with a plate full of spaghetti; I honestly thought I had eaten enough, and now this... It would probably be rude to reject this food that they apparently just cooked, especially for me, but full is full... For good manners, I took a few forks but I really couldn't take any more... Maybe Italian would work - the old man seemed to know a little Italian. I looked in his direction and said "Conjo pasta. Finito. Basta. I really have had enough."

"Finito?" I nodded, and the old man spoke to the others. "Conjo pasta?" I nodded again and then repeated "Conjo injerra, conjo pasta. Finito..." Hopefully they believed me now that I'd had enough. At least, they took away the plate.

After dinner, one of the younger girls started the preparations for the coffee ceremony. In no time, she had the room was filled with the thick white smoke of incense, and all people turned to me. "Coffee ceremony!"

I nodded. "Conjo!"

As usual, there was three times coffee, and there was popcorn served before the first and second coffee. Shortly after the third coffee, I stood up, thanked the people, and left. Totally full, happy to experience Ethiopian Christmas, but also happy to get away...

I had told Mulunesh several times not to come on Sunday - Sunday was a day off; I could survive for one day. But of course, she didn't listen... Early Sunday morning I was once more woken up by the sound of roasting beans, while I had intended to stay in bed for a long time. I stuck my head through the door and grumbled, but what could I do...

While drinking coffee, I pulled out my laptop, and showed her the photos of my family and friends, she loved every one of them; she was thrilled when I told her my parents would come in a few months' time. I sincerely hoped she understood they wouldn't come next week - I told her again and again...

When the coffee was finished, I asked her once again to take the rest of the day off, but she rejected - she insisted on making lunch, and then she would go. Actually, I had planned to go searching again for the hidden hotel and eat a western lunch on the way, but I couldn't persuade Mulunesh to leave, so I stayed as well. I tried practicing some Amharic sentences with her, but she either hadn't the patience or will to understand and correct me, so eventually I gave up on that, and learned in silence. Lunch was injera again, this time with some minced meat in a burning red sauce, and of course Mulunesh couldn't leave before we had coffee...

Like the days before, I couldn't find the place I was looking for - I'd started searching in bigger and bigger circles, and by now, it was very unlikely that I would find it this way - either I missed it, or I was looking in a totally wrong direction... I had dinner in a restaurant where they also served western food. What a treat after a week of exclusively Ethiopian cooking - although nice, even the rice and pasta had had Ethiopian influences, and it was just a feast to taste some 'normal' food. Then I went home, started packing some things I needed to bring with me to the university, and went to bed. Mulunesh would be back early tomorrow morning...

Indeed, early next morning, Mulunesh awoke me with the sound of roasting coffee beans. I washed, got dressed, had breakfast and coffee. I quickly figured out that I wouldn't make the third coffee in time, so I excused myself profoundly; Mulunesh convinced me it was alright - job goes first... I hoped I managed to explain to her I also wouldn't be there for lunch, and I wondered what she would do the whole day now - would she go home? Something to talk about, when I got back...

Mulunesh helped me once more to get on the right minibus - I should be able to manage myself soon. The morning rush hour was crazy. The minibus was cramped with well-dressed men and women; the only exceptions were the driver and his assistant, who seemed to have been flown in straight from Jamaica - the driving-style matched with the dreadlocks...

The university hall was packed with students. I quickly walked to my office, but the door was locked, and I still didn't have the key. So now I had to wait for Girmay, who was my office mate. I sat down on one of the chairs, and nodded to the people roaming the hall, shaking hands with some of them; I'd have my first class this afternoon, and hopefully Girmay would introduce me to my colleagues first... Hopefully he would show up!

I saw Ashibr, stood up and we shook hands. He was surprised to see me sitting on the hall; annoyed - why hadn't I gotten my key yet? He guided me to the secretary office - closed... "That's the world we live in - all doors are closed when you need to go through..." He asked around, but eventually he told me there was nothing else to do than waiting. "Get used to it!"

Ashibr had another meeting, so he couldn't help me now. I decided to go out and wait in front of the building, in the sun, for Girmay to come. When I checked the office after half an hour, he was there; he had come in through another entrance.

We talked about my first impressions, he guided me along the hallway, shaking hands with the people in offices that were not closed, and got into a discussion with the secretary; apparently about the keys. No, he didn't have the second key, but neither had the secretary. At my suggestion to have a copy made of his own key, both looked shocked; that's not the way things go around here...