I'd been predisposed to hate Addis. I knew the hills outside of Addis
were green and beautiful, and a friend who had worked there frequently
told me Ethiopia itself was wonderously beautiful. "But not Addis," he
added. Fair enough, few emerging market capitals are what you would
call lovely. But a popular travel writer characterised the place as
filthy and rutted and festering, and that's the image I braced myself
for as I arrived.
Instead, Addis was pretty interesting.
Like most places I've lived and worked over the past twenty years,
Addis struggles with storm water and too-small roads and too much
traffic, and all the usual ills of developing nations. But that wasn't
what I'll remember now. Rather, it was the pride. You always read
about how Ethiopia was never colonised, but that seems like nothing
more than a historical footnote until you see it in play, and
especially if you have any reason to work with the authorities. Then
ou realize there's a deep mistrust of foreigners, and a drive to learn
from everyone but to make one's own decision and then live with
it. Gone is the sense of desperation to learn from the West; in
Ethiopia we'll do it our way or not at all.
The city streets – at least the ones I traveled along – were filled
with stores selling lighting: variations of crystal chandeliers and
other household effects intended for illumination. Toward the end of
the day when the skies darkened, it was really interesting to look
upon.
They were also filled with cafés. Turns out there's a huge café
culture in Ethiopia, and there are endless places you can get a good
cup of coffee and chat with friends. In fact, as I hustled from one
meeting to the next, I suspect these Ethiopian coffee drinkers were
living a better lifestyle than I was. Not just coffee, either: various
teas and infusions, and of course a rich assortment of pastries,
breads, cookies. I hadn't been prepared for that at all. That brought
me back to memories of my own Ethiopian friends, who stop everything
at around 4 PM to brew strong coffee over scented hardwoods. How come
every culture on earth seems to remember to step back and enjoy
community and friendship over a coffee except mine?
The flip side of this cool, interesting experience was the Internet:
In Ethiopia, all internet access is managed by the state monopoly, who
controls it tightly and scrutinizes traffic ravenously. It's a move
straight out of some Handbook I remember reading ... just can't
remember the name ...
