Acclimating to Addis Ababa

Last time I was in Addis Ababa, I spent all my time with Ethiopi­ans. It spoiled me. Nav­i­gat­ing the city by myself or with other for­eign­ers is absolutely exhaust­ing, between the cul­tural and lan­guage bar­ri­ers, the smog, the alti­tude, and inces­sant heck­ling from peo­ple on the street.  One of the cur­rent Ful­brighters who has worked exten­sively in Africa says that the beg­ging cul­ture here is among the worst she’s seen on the con­ti­nent.  My Amharic tutor insists that I’ll develop ears for Addis Ababa that will fil­ter out the dis­trac­tions and annoy­ances.  I hope so.

Arriv­ing in late Octo­ber means that I ben­e­fit from the pit­falls and tribu­la­tions of the other Ful­brighters who arrived about two months before me. Shawn Mol­len­hauer, a Ful­bright stu­dent study­ing Oromo music, invited me to stay with him and his wife Jill, who is cur­rently writ­ing her dis­ser­ta­tion on pre-Columbian Mex­i­can art. The house near Bole Rd is a quiet reprieve from the bus­tle of the city and the stress of get­ting things done in an unfa­mil­iar cul­ture.  I’m liv­ing with satel­lite TV for the first time ever.  Only two of the chan­nels are Ethiopian.  The rest are from the Mid­dle East.  Every­thing is sub­ti­tled in Ara­bic, and all the kiss­ing scenes are cut out.

One thing I cer­tainly can­not com­plain about is the food. This plate of “fast­ing vari­eties” con­sists of var­i­ous veg­eta­bles served with injera, a flat bread used to eat food much the same way as tor­tillas are.  Eat­ing with your hands is only part of the delight.  Every­thing tastes awe­some.  And, mac­chi­atos are cheaper than reg­u­lar coffee.