95 - Prodigious Pranav and Deadly Dosas! Ethiopian Journey

Pranav was a prodigious kid. Full of beans and doubts which could stun and irritate the most docile and placid person. It was very irritating and quite frankly we were spell bound by his doubts. We simply did not have answers to his prolific and ‘always-on–tap’ questions. He could rattle off a sequence of doubts and expect his mother to answer them to his satisfaction! A tall order by any standard!!!

He was quite dubious and cunning about the entire thing. He would slide up to his mother and fire one quite innocuously with “butter would not melt in my mouth” demeanor. Some of his doubts almost made poor Padma jump out of her skin! We were very sure that his 8-year-old body would be twitching in delight seeing the hardships he was causing!!! 

Many dishes were spoiled and many times Padma almost lost it. Even though she was quite calm and composed, Pranav’s continuous barrage of questions were wearing down her defenses. At times she had the haunted look of a person locked in a room with a machine that keeps firing questions at her just like cricket balls thrown at 100 miles per hour at a helpless number 11 batsman! Such was his volley of questions that he was quickly christened “Master Doubtfire” by his quite irritated and totally hapless mother. 

Sample some of his doubts: 

Why is it called Ladies Finger why not Gents Finger? 

Why should we call it Mango why not Womango? 

Why Handsaw why not Handsee? 

Why T-shirt why not coffee-shirt?

Why Rocket and not stonet? 

Why Octopus why not 8-pus? 

Why Donkey why not Donlock? 

Why Mongoose and why not Mongeese and not Mongander? 

Why Breakfast why not Breakslow for a person eating slowly?

Why tooth paste why not teeth paste and teeth brush 

And the mostly deadly one - Does a tiger eat a man with his clothes on, or does the tiger take the clothes off his victim before eating him?

We never had answers to such questions!!!

On an exceptionally hard day Padma was totally at her wits end. She was ready to say quits! Seeing the seriousness of the situation, I made the family sit in the garden and passed a diktat (order). In my most serious and dictatorial voice, I proclaimed with all the pomp that I could muster “For the next one hour our family will be the most silent family in Bahirdar”. 

Padma the poor soul was delighted. ‘Silence is gold and I need a tonne of it” she must have muttered to herself. Sahithi all of two years was intimidated by my seriousness. She became silent and looked at her mother for support. 

This was something not to Pranav’s liking. His 8-year-old self-rebelled against the idea of sitting silently for 60 minutes which otherwise could be spent fruitfully by asking mind numbing questions that would send any sane person into stupor or even into coma! 

Then he brightened visibly and glibly said, “Sahithi, a silent family is a family that does not talk. Silence means that no one talks. A silent family is liked by everyone……………..” He rattled on and on. For the next ten minutes we were given a lecture on silence, why we need to be silent and virtues of being silent in the most noisy and raucous fashion! I SILENTLY marveled at the ingenuity of my son who adroitly turned tables on us! For once I was totally stumped! Game set and match - Pranav Pratheek, the noisiest boy in the world!!! 

You can take an Indian out of India but you can’t take India out of an Indian. We were yearning for Dosas and Idlis but Minappappu (Urad Dal), skinned Black gram was not available in Bahirdar. Dr. Radhakrishna, a fellow faculty member made a monumental discovery. HE DISCOVERED URAD DAL in Bahirdar market and it was quite cheap, ten birr a kilo. 

Soon there were stories making rounds in Bahirdar. Stories of how Radhakrishna’s family was enjoying Dosas and Idlis by the dozen. His family was the envy of the town. Soon a contingent of Indian teachers beseeched Radhakrishna and finally he consented with a kindly light took us to the shop in Bahirdar market which sold the URAD DAL. The shop keeper was nonplussed but solemnly sold us as much Urad Dal as we wanted.

Padma the kind soul, threw a dosa party. Kable 7’s Indians, Bala, Suresh, Krishna, Rajani madam and Clara were invited. Oh boy did we have a dosa party! It was the mother of all parties. 

Padma made karam podi and potato curry and we all hogged. Many of us had three to four dosas. The dosas almost tasted Indian. Everyone dispersed after the dosa orgy. By afternoon all hell broke out. 

Everyone barring Sahithi (who wisely had only one dosa) was having the most severe stomach cramps. So severe that it felt as if our stomach was being churned by an infernal washing machine in the fast wash mode and it looked like someone forcefully stapled our stomachs. 

The pain was unbearable. Home remedies were tried out, including drinking water copiously, having soft drinks, digene but to no avail. Many Indians faced a sleepless night. We suffered too. It was like an Agatha Christie novel “Death by Dosa!”. 

Next day I scooped up some of the innocuous and innocent looking skinned black gram seeds and took them to my Management HOD. She too was puzzled. She did not even know what they were! I was desperate to crack the mystery. I took the offensive grains to the Agricultural Department of Bahirdar University. 

The kind professor who received us too, was nonplussed. He took the grains and promised a quick investigation as to why these grains caused so much pain!! 

The professor was at my office the next day. He had an almighty grin. A grin so wide that it threatened to tear his face off. He was trying to control his mirth, but it was a lost battle, “Dr. Aneel” he almost shouted at me “It is very clear. What you ate is not for human consumption. It is a special grain that is used in Ethiopia to make race horses run as fast as they can. The grain is so strong that it is diluted so much that a kilo of this wonder grain is enough to boost twenty horses to gallop as fast as they can”. It was a shock of my life. 

We ground the very strong and toxic grains and made dosas!!!  And we had dosas with equally heavy potato curry.  It was no wonder that we all experienced the most severe stomach cramps of our life. Light dawned. That is why the shopkeeper gave us such funny looks! He could not comprehend why these scholarly looking Indians were buying grains that were almost exclusively bought by Ethiopians who bred race horses that could gallop as fast as wind! But being a smart seller he was, he made hay as the sun shone! He sold us the wonder grain, while inwardly he must have been smirking “Oh boy, these Indians are as mad as MAD can be!” 

As usual Pranav had the last laugh, “What Nanna? The solution is very simple. We can eat dosas and gallop all the way to Gondar (a historic Ethiopian city, 140 kilometers from Bahirdar)”. I was so annoyed and angry that I could not even muster courage to reprimand him! It was quite an ordeal! 

94 - Finally at Tiss Abay Water Falls - Ethiopian Journey

The lazy lunch was consumed but we were reluctant to move. Sensing the mood, we decided to slow the pace. I posed the question to the group. Which was the best part of the trip so far? As usual Pranav was off the mark, even before the question sank in by quipping “of course throwing stones into the river!!!”

We had come across Abay river, the birth place of the great Nile river the cradle of modern Egyptian civilization. Kuldeep and me agreed too. The river was not very deep and we hopped into the middle of the river. It was slippery but we did it. Padma the ever adventurous got to the center of the river and she was carrying Sahithi in her arms. Aunty, Krishna Kumari and Shilpa watched her in astonishment! They could not believe their eyes.

The locals were petrified. They started waving their hands. We need not know the language, the message was clear!!! “get out as fast as you can”. Safely back on the river bank, I was quite annoyed at being dragged back so soon. “What was the bloody hurry?” I grumbled “What will happen, would an Anaconda swallow us?” I asked sarcastically. The movie anaconda flashed into my mind. But the science student in me reared up his head. Anacondas don’t exist in Ethiopia!

Suresh who was talking to the locals came up. He was definitely worried, “Sir” He exclaimed “hundred times more dangerous. The waters are infested with hippopotamus”. “That missed me, totally!” I told myself. Languid, robust and appearing to be lazy, Hippos are viewed as safe and harmless. But they can be deadly dangerous and  aggressive and many cases of hippos goring people to death have been reported from throughout the world including, Ethiopia.

We recited the incident to others and everyone got cautious. Dare I say, Overcautious. Pranav and Sahithi started looking at any sudden movement with alarm and apprehension. Pranav was on his guard from the hippos. He almost expected hippos to jump out of a bush and gobble him up!

But we all agreed that the best part was the very green surroundings and the hills around which accentuated the effect. It was like walking in the valley of flowers in Himachal Pradesh, India.  It was pleasantly cool and there was a carpet of grass where ever we looked. The show man in me took over “Do you know what this carpet is made of?”. “Oh yes, it’s a carpet of grass”. “Ha, ha” I said, “You are wrong, this is not grass, it is made up of lakhs and lakhs of young marigold plants”.

The entire group bent down and checked. Yes it was tiny marigold saplings all right. They were growing like weed. We all imagined the sight of lakhs and lakhs of marigold plants and crores of marigold flowers when they bloomed.  It would be a spectacular sight. Now a days when we moan the lack of fertility of our land, this incident comes flashing back. How I miss Ethiopia where we dumped marigold saplings by lakhs from our garden. They were a nuisance!

Suitably fortified both mentally and physically we ventured out of our picturesque lunch spot. As we walked to the end of the meadow, we realized that we were not on a meadow, we were on a plateau, a plateau that tapered off into a small slope that led to the base of the water fall. 

As we reached the end of the plateau the noise turned deafening. The entire area was smoking – no wonder Tiss Abay in Amharic meaning great smoke/ smoking waterfall or waterfall that emits smoke or fog. The water from the waterfall was chocolate brown and was tumbling down the 45 metres fall effortlessly. It was like watching a giant chocolate fountain in reverse.

Watching any waterfall is always an awesome sight. Water is the elixir of life and water tumbling down a slope somehow makes us bow our head in reverence to the might of the nature.

We went down the slope and as we went down it was apparent that we were descending into the lap of nature. The waterfall slopes were wet and clinging on was moss of myriad colors. The rocks were glittering with drops of water like the sweat on well-toned muscles of a superbly fit athlete.

There was a rock right in front of the waterfall and we took the customary keepsake snaps. Yes, it was a very satisfying experience. We climbed up and wanted to go back. But there was a twist in the tail. There was a boat that could take us to the other side of the river and that could cut the journey time by half. 

We were delighted at the turn of events. We all crowded the small motor boat. The driver could speak English. He greeted us politely “20 birr, 20 birr” We did a double take. “20 birr for all of us” we asked hopefully. “No” he confirmed “20 birr for each”. We haggled “the distance is short” we argued “we can see the other side”. But he was adamant. “20 or walk” was his dictum.

We showed him our work permits. Told him that we were not tourists and that we were working for his people and that we were residents of Ethiopia. But to no vail.  After lot of front and forth finally we agreed for ten birr for each one of us including Pranav and Sahithi. We had no choice. We grudgingly paid. It was painful to pay 10 birr each.  The locals were paying only a birr. They were grinning ear to ear seeing our discomfort.

That is how the cookie crumbles throughout the world including India. For example, in Hyderabad, for entry into Golconda fort the locals are charged Rs 10/- and the foreigners are charged 25 US Dollars. Same is the case at Taj Mahal. The rates for locals and foreigners differ. But the issue in Ethiopia is quite different. The amount that was charged is not fixed by the government. Tourism is not state controlled and is in the informal sector. I am sure that for white tourists the same guy would have demanded 10 US dollars, equivalent to 85 birr!

The apathy of the government to tourism was apparent. There were no sign boards. Nothing to explain the uniqueness of the site and no souvenir shops. That is how tourism is run in third world countries. Tourists are left to fend for themselves and have to manage on their wits.

As we were exiting, a government official magically appeared out of nowhere. “100 birr” he exclaimed pointing to my video camera. “100 birr!!!” I gasped. “Why didn’t you tell us when we went in?”. It was too much for this government official. He kept repeating “100 birr, 100 birr” in a monotonous charade.

It was quite clear that he meant business. We paid him the 100 birr but there was bitter taste in the mouth. First of all, we did not even know whether he was a government official in charge of tourism. He could be any government official who was stationed at Tiss Abay. He did not give us a receipt.

Worst of all, why did he not tell us about the charge when we were entering? Why not a simple board about the fees and the dos and don’ts. What is permitted and what is not. Tourism is a Russian roulette in Ethiopia.  You never know which one of the six chambers of the revolver has the bullet! It is a guessing game for all, including the government officials themselves!!! 

93 - Tryst with Tiss Abay Water Fall - Ordeal by wet Mud - Ethiopian Journey

The tryst with the tourist guides, we thought was done and dusted. Oh boy! We were mistaken and How! The motley crowd of wanna-be-guides were not to be discouraged. They were made of sterner stuff! They followed us just like the children following the Pied Piper of Hamlin. Hamlin’s Piper must have had it easy.

The children following him would have laughed and giggled, not our Ethiopian lot. They were noisy and made many comments. And the entire crowd would howl away to glory. We were used to it but the experience unnerved aunty. She is from United States, where privacy is respected and valued. Privacy in Ethiopia was in short supply. You take a turn and the crowd is in your face.

There were many other wanna-be-entrepreneurs among the crowd. Some were selling handloom items of dubious lineage, some were selling small baskets and some were marketing long sticks!! why sticks we wondered?

Few minutes later, we understood the reason. It was the peak rainy season and the route was sticky and quite slippery. The mud had the look of a slippery goo. So slippery that walkers would slide helplessly and fall head or butt first right into the wet, slushy and sticky Ethiopian clay soil.

The locals had made rickety bridges with the logs which they must have taken from the surrounding forest. The smart entrepreneurs plonked themselves next to the rickety bridge and demanded 10 birr per person for the privilege of using their ‘golden gate bridge’. “If you don’t, you are welcome to eat the fine Ethiopian mud (when you fall)”.

Then there are the smart kids who would politely offered to hold our hands and guide us. These are the second generation entrepreneurs who are great at offering services instead of products. For a birr they would hold your hands and allow one to cross the bridge. And the third generation entrepreneurs are those who sell a steady stick that we could use to walk in the muddy terrain and the cost was cheap - 10 birr at the least.

Our mathematics teacher, Dr. Kuldeep Singh’s eyebrows were furrowed so deeply that they almost disappeared! ‘Ah, ah’ he exploded “10 birr for the stick, at least 3 birr for using the bridge and another 1 birr for holding their hands. That is a total of 15 birr!!!”. “By the time we reach the falls I will have to pay my entire salary to them”. His indignation was a sight. We did not have smart phones at that time. Otherwise we could have had a price winning photo opportunity.

The Ethiopians used the stampede technique. They would crowd us and create claustrophobia. We resisted their ploy but the going was tough. Every one slipped and fell. It was like the coming of age initiation ceremony.

‘Thou shall fall atleast once’ Tiss Abay waterfall seemed to whisper in our ears. And pronto people would fall, seemingly obeying the command of the naughty Tiss Abay.  Finally, it was only me and Padma, who did not bite the dust. Padma was carrying Sahithi in her arms.

She turned to aunty and said “No mummy, it is all about balance. You need to step gingerly and not firmly”. By this time she had the attention of the entire group “Like this, mummy“ She demonstrated. “One step at a time and you would never fall”. Our very own PhD ‘in slippery mud walking” was prophesizing.

Aunty turned, her eyes full of admiration. She wanted to take a look at her spider woman daughter who had a vice like grip on the slippery ground.  But where was her dear daughter!!!???? Nowhere to be seen!

Padma was sitting heavily on the ground. Just as she was prophesizing she slid rapidly and landed almost ten feet away. She was like an ice skater, totally out of control! Her breath was knocked out. She was not hurt but her pride was! We all had a laugh of our life time. Sahithi who was in Padma’s arms had a jolt of her life and she did not like it one bit. She started wailing indignantly. All for may be 30 seconds.

Our entrepreneurial lot had an opportunity of their life. All of them started crying in a falsetto. Incredibly all of them were imitating Sahithi. It was eerie to say the least! The sound was like 1000 banshees wailing! Sahithi had a shock. She had never been teased so mercilessly. She shut down as tight as a clam!

But the crowd would not stop. It was a party time. Even I could not avoid the Tiss Abay trail by Wet mud. My foot got stuck into the most annoying “try as you might” can’t take it out mud. I tried a lot but my shoe would not budge. I had to stick my hand into the nauseating and quite smelly mud to extricate my foot and yes my shoe too. I had to spend an exasperating ten minutes trying to get the mud off my shoe and then from my socks and foot too!

Nothing more annoying than trying to dry wet socks and wetter shoes, that too in humid conditions and in rainy season. Finally, I put my wet foot into an equally wet shoe and the shoe made sickening squeaky sound every time I walked. It was like walking forever in a field full of wet mud. The mud seemed to want to grab and hold me down. My shoes were squeaking like a badly made musical shoes of a one-year-old toddler.

By the time we reached the meadows our spirits were down and we were snapping at each other. The sight was majestic. We could see the majestic waterfalls in full flow in the back ground.  We sat down to eat. We had blankets but they too were soggy and wet. But they were much better than the beastly wet ground. As we started to eat, a melodious sound wafted towards us. It was the most incredible sound ever.

We were transported back to the times when Krishna frolicked in Dwaraka along with his friends. It was a heart touching flute recital by a cow herder. This kid wearing an angelic smile played on his rustic flute and as long as we had our lunch.

We beckoned him. He refused to eat Indian food but gleefully accepted the 10 birr note that we gave him. God Bless you dear cow herder. Hope that you made it big in life and are touching many other people’s lives – the way you touched ours and got permanently etched in our minds. 

92 – Person of Interest – American Mother – Tryst with Tis Abay Water Fall – Ethiopian Journey

Blue Nile falls/Tis Abay (Great Smoke in Amharic)

Aunty’s visit created a huge excitement in Kable 7, Bahirdar. In a small town everything is big news and Aunty’s arrival from USA was definitely BIG. Padma and the kids had decorated the house tastefully and had huge welcome boards (hand-made) hung in the drawing room.

Ebolu and the Coffee Ceremony

Ebolu (Kuldeep’s maid) brought casuarina branches and arranged a traditional coffee ceremony. She even added artificial roses and lights to add to the gaiety. Aunty enjoyed it.  

Anasuya Aunty, Pranav and Sahithi in the vast meadow in front of our house

That evening onwards we started to walk in the kable. With the onset of the rains the entire country side turned from a sulking dusky terrain to a green smiling maiden (Maidan as it is referred in India). There was greenery everywhere and the weather turned out to be pleasant.

Road leading to PEDA, Sahithi, Padma, Aunty and Gadadhar (Oops Pranav with the Mace)

We enjoyed the walks. Walking on the metal roads with sharp projecting stones was an adventure in itself. And once it becomes dark, it becomes pitch dark. It is so dark that one has to step gingerly, one step at a time. 

Padma and Sahithi with Ethiopian version of Tangedu Poolu 

The rains made the roads slushy and slippery too. It was quite common to see locals walk nonchalantly wearing huge gum boots -  the ones that we see factory workers wear.

Our Family snapped! in the background is the view point 

The Ethiopians we knew were pleased to know that Aunty came visiting. Most of their faces broke into winsome smiles when they were told that she came from USA. USA – most of them knew! The US green card lottery is an annual event that most Ethiopians eagerly wait for. US green card lottery is one mega gamble that no educated Ethiopian wanted to miss. They all wanted to try their luck.

Bahudurapu batasarulu

USA believes in diversity. It generously offers green cards to 50,000 worldwide immigrants to come and settle in USA. As Ethiopians were not migrating in huge numbers to USA they are eligible for the lottery. The scheme is called the US diversity Visa lottery Program. It is quite common to see many Ethiopians register for the US Visa lottery process quite religiously. It is a ticket to a better life and prosperity and many Ethiopians try their luck year-after-year.

The volume of the applications is very high and nearly 20 million people apply for the 50,000 annual green card visas that are granted. The lucky ones are selected by a lottery. Thus it was not surprising that my friends and colleagues held aunty in high esteem – She comes from the promised land!!!!

For long we wanted to visit Blue Nile waterfalls or Tis Abay (the Great smoke in Amharic) water falls. Till 2003, Tis Abay was a majestic sight. Water gushed down and fell in thundering cascades from a height of around 37 to 45 feet. From a trickle in the dry season to over 400 metres wide in the rainy season, the water falls are an awe inspiring sight in full flow.  

After a hydroelectric dam was constructed in 2003, the water flow had reduced drastically except in peak rainy season. But it is still a magnificent sight. And the route is said to be breathtakingly scenic. ‘It is the journey that is sometimes more exciting than the destination itself!!!!’. Tis Abay is located around 30 kilometers from Bahirdar. The day was 3rd August 2003.

From Left Padma, Sahithi, Aunty, Shilpa, Krishna, Suresh, Kuldeep and Balakrishna and standing infront Pranav

We were a party of Ten. Padma, me, Pranav, Sahithi, Aunty, Balakrishna, Dr. Kuldeep, his wife Shilpa, Suresh and his wife, Krishna. We decided to rough it out and take the public transport. The bus journey was not comfortable. The bus had seen better days and the ride was pretty bumpy.

Ethiopian Bus 

The Ethiopian custom of closing all the windows to avoid dust and cold air from coming in meant that the bus was stuffy and the ride was claustrophobic, to say the least. Most of the fellow travelers gave us curious glances but mercifully not many comments were made. May be Suresh’s and my strapping appearances and the huge beard that Kuldeep sported must have been the deterrents!

Road side view from the bus 

The scenery around us was a throwback to the nomadic times that our ancestors must have passed through. Pencil thin Ethiopian peasants hefting huge loads on their backs or on patient and slow moving donkeys or cows could be seen. 

Unarguably one of the most photogenic race in the world.

We also saw young girls and boys dressed in tatters but they sported beaming smiles and waved at us in gay abandon as the bus noisily made its way alongside!

Tissisat Village, gateway to the Tis Abay water fall

The bus dumped us at Tissisat village and immediately we were surrounded by a pack of Ethiopians, all of whom wanted a piece of us. They were all like the modern day Shylocks! They were all screaming at us and we could not make head or tail of what they were saying. Sahithi who was youngest in the group was in tears and Pranav too looked close to a breakdown. We were being dragged and buffeted from all sides.

Luckily for us Suresh had limited command of Amharic and he spoke to the crowd with his best teachers’ voice and slowly it dawned on the unruly crowd. “Omigosh, this is a group of teachers”. Slowly a hush descended and it was as if there was an invisible finger on their lips.

Out of the restless motley crowd one guy stepped forward. He had a saucy, jaunty look about him. He jabbered away at Suresh and Suresh slowly started nodding his head. Suresh turned towards us and said “this guy says that it is very dangerous to go to the waterfall by ourselves. The crowd is demanding 50 dollars per person (roughly 350 birr) to guide us”. It was a jaw dropping amount.

500 dollars for 10 people was 25,000/- Indian rupees!!!!. Suresh who visited the waterfall before dismissed the preposterous idea. He said, “Not to worry Sir! We can go to the waterfall by ourselves”. “That is fine” I told him. “But what do we do with this wailing, howling and restless wolf pack?”. Suresh hit upon the divide and rule that the British taught us.

He took the leader of the pack aside and made a deal. “Make peace and leave us alone”. We could hear talk of 100s of birr being thrown about but Suresh was patient. Infact he could become a great negotiator in a hostage release situation! He had that Zen calmness about him. It was the leader who was getting more and more rattled. Finally, a deal was struck and they shook hands and surreptitiously money was exchanged.

As the leader was explaining the deal struck to his pack, we beat a hasty retreat to the path that led to the waterfall. ‘Suresh”, I said “that was good. I am sure that the 100 or 200 birr that you gave him will buy us peace”.

“100 birr!!!” exclaimed Suresh “I told him that we are volunteer teachers and that we don’t get paid very well. I argued that 2 birr per person was enough to let us go” I gaped at him. Think of the Indian ingenuity and the ability to squeeze oil out of even desert sand! I mentally saluted Suresh for getting us out of a tricky situation.

91 – Aunty arrives, Grating German and Enduring Ethiopian Customs Officer – Ethiopian Journey.

The dye was cast and I prepared to stay in Addis Ababa. The next day as I was sipping my morning Cuppa (Shai), I was approached by a smart Ethiopian. “Mister” he greeted me cheerfully “You, Teacher!”. It was more than a question. It was an assertion.

“Yes” I said “Teacher from Bahirdar university, Bahirdar”. “Bahardar” he was impressed “You very lucky”. To the uninitiated, Bahardar is one of the holiest places in Ethiopia and is famed as the place of Amhara, the most populous tribe in Ethiopia.

It has many island monasteries and Tiss Abay the highest waterfalls in Ethiopia. He had a wistful look “How I wish; I could visit Bahardar”. He shook himself and said “One day, I visit” and added with a twinkle “would you host me, mister??” and thumped me on my back.

 “Sure, Sure” smarting under his too healthy smack. He told me that he was a taxi driver. He was a cheerful character and he made me promise that I would take his taxi whenever I visited Addis the next time. He also had a very smart way of picking up business.

He would wait patiently at the Bole International Airport and quote slightly less rate for a drop to the city. He would ingratiate himself with the tourists who would take a liking to this jolly, well behaved, English speaking Ethiopian.

He would generously pass information about places to visit and volunteer to help. Within no time he would be ferrying them around Addis Ababa and act as a tourist guide, friend, historian and also give them personal transport at a reasonable cost. The loss he made by offering a drop at a low price was more or less compensated by the day long travel that the tourist would take in his taxi. “How much do you make per day?” I asked him.

He gave a half wink and said “100 birr per day and rarely even 150 birr a day. Sometimes some generous tourists might even give me a tip of 10 - 20 dollars”. I was impressed. He was practicing invitation pricing. The initial offer of a product or a service is at a low price and when the customer samples the product, charge regular rate.

Making 100 -150 birr per day was a great deal in 2003 and that is what I admire about the self-employed of the world. They have no complaints about lack of government jobs. They don’t curse their bad luck. They smile and live their life as it comes. I told him that I would use his services to get dropped to the airport and for intra-city travel. “awo, awo (yes in Amharic sounds like aah, aah)” he said on his way out.

That afternoon, I went to a movie “L. A. Confidential” in Piazza. The movie hall had a primitive look and had hard seats. They were uncomfortable to sit upon and the theatre was not air-conditioned. It had some very old fans which were struggling to work. The movie hall was stuffy and on the top of it neither the audio nor the movie projection was working well. The audience were a mix of young and old and most were quite passive. The movie too was not very interesting and I left within half an hour.

Outside on the pavements, I found some old novels. I picked up two of them at a very reasonable price. I still remember the novels and the authors. 

One of them was “The case of the Velvet Claws” by Erle Stanley Gardner (my favourite author and it was the series featuring the ace criminal lawyer, Perry Mason).  I already had this novel in my collection in Hyderabad, India but Perry Mason is like first love, you can never forget them! You want to revisit the memory again and again.

The second was “ABC Murders” by Ellery Queen. Ellery Queen was a maverick crime novelist. Agatha Christie, the queen of crime, slowly builds up the story and leaves too many clues which are some times ambiguous. One needs to keep guessing about the identity of the murderer.

Ellery Queen’s technique is totally different. He would lay out the entire plot, give the summary of all the clues, sometimes even provide diagrams and pictorial illustrations and say “the entire case is in front of you. There is no intention to confuse or side track. Can you solve the case?. No guessing”, It has to be good old fashioned detective work based on logic and clarity of thinking. Even the most ardent crime fans have not been able to crack an Ellery Queen mystery, the way the author explains it right at the end.

That day evening Padma had good news for me. Aunty’s ECNR clearance work was done in a jiffy and she was flying to Ethiopia two days later. Once the date was known the time passed quickly. Of course Messers Perry Mason and Ellery Queen helped a lot. They were with me in the Tourist hotel. I had so much time that I read both the books twice over. Cover-to-cover. Perry Mason should be made a compulsory read for all aspiring lawyers. They would pick up the nuances of how to fight and present a case and use the law to benefit the innocent.

Two days later (29-07-2003) at 10.30 p.m. I found myself waiting outside the arrival gate of Bole International Airport. I was an hour early and there I was hanging onto the entry gate. Facing me was a menacing Ethiopian army person. After glaring at me for half an hour, he said “Asitemarie? (teacher)” “Asitemarie, Asitamarie” I said “Mother, mother, coming from India”. His face broke into a smile “Inati, Inati” he said “Hind, Hind”. What he said was “mother, mother from India”.

After a long wait, I could finally see the travelers emerge from the immigration and come on to the customs clearance area. The line was long and moving at an excruciatingly slow pace. I saw many young Ethiopians and Indians come out first. I knew the reason, the able bodied and the agile must have raced through and made it first to the que lines. Aunty would be coming in slowly.

Then I saw her walking her way to the customs area. FINALLY SHE WAS IN ADDIS ABABA!!! In front of her was a huge man (later Aunty told me that he was a German). In front of the German was an Ethiopian lady with her two children and the customs officer was dealing with them and the process was taking some time.

Even from the distance of atleast 100 feet, I saw it coming. The German first said something and then said something else quite loudly. Aunty later told me that he made some snide comment about the speed (or lack of it) of customs check and said something obnoxious about Africa and its airports.

The customs officer was upset but chose not to speak. He quietly went through the Ethiopian Lady’s belongings, let the lady go and gave his full attention to the German.

And oh boy, he gave the German full attention!!!!! He looked at the German’s passport very carefully, put it through the computer and checked it many times to find out if it was genuine or not. Then he very politely opened each and every item that the German had and went through it with maddening thoroughness. This really got to the German. He was seething with anger but there was nothing he could do about it. The customs officer was simply doing his job.

Finally, the customs officer was satisfied. By this time the customs officer’s counter looked as if a cyclone had hit it. It was cluttered with the German’s belongings. The customs officer looked at the German, stamped his passport and said “Okay, you can go”

This left the poor German with a herculean ask. Whenever we pack a suitcase at home, we have the luxury of packing leisurely and with a plan. A suitcase packed at home, can never be packed the same way once it is opened at the airport, especially by an irate customs officer who unfolded all the shirts and trousers and made a heap of them. Aunty had finished her own customs check pretty quickly and I went forward to pick her up. I am sure that the German would have spent the next 30 minutes to repack. He had learnt a lesson of his life – You don’t mess with Customs officers!

Aunty and me stayed in the airport and early in the morning took the first flight to Bahirdar. The flight landed in Bahirdar and Aunty was surprised to see, Padma, Pranav and Sahithi at the airport. They all hugged each other and we were all relieved that Aunty finally made it safe to Bahirdar without any problems. It was second time lucky for her. We also thanked Dr. Kuldeep Singh for accompanying Padma and the kids to the Ginbot Haya Airport, Bahirdar.

90 – Man Proposes and God Disposes – Ethiopian Journey.

The flight from Mumbai to Addis Ababa was supposed to depart from Mumbai at 7:30 p.m. Indian time. The flight time was five hours and the time difference was 2.5 hours (India is ahead of Ethiopia).

So Aunty would land by 10:00 p.m. local time and by the time emigration and customs check would get done it would be 10:30 to 10:45 p.m. I could start at 10:00 p.m. and reach Bole International Airport within fifteen minutes.

Ten minutes in the room and I got bored. We have to remember it was 2003 and there were no Mobile phones or TV available in hotel rooms. Even if TV was provided the programing was all in Amharic. English was not very popular and we hardly got any English newspapers, magazines or novels. I was glad I was leaving the next day morning. Man proposes and God disposes!!! 

Just to break out of the melancholic mood setting in, I stepped out for a shai at the Tree Top Bakery, situated right opposite, Tourist Hotel. The Shai perked up my mood and I returned. The receptionist was literally laying kittens. She gesticulated and shouted in a loud voice (quite in contrast with her usual persona of a demure and dainty lady) “Dr. Aneel, Dr. Aneel” she was frantic.

“We just phoned your room and even sent a room boy. You were not to be found. A message from Bahirdar. Someone called Paadmaa called”. I was perplexed “Did she leave a message?”.

“Oh, yes” she rummaged through the drawer and triumphantly took out a small paper “Paadmaa said that your mother was not coming. She asked you not to go to the airport”. I immediately understood mother to be mother-in-law. I did not expect the diminutive receptionist to understand the word mother-in-law.

I was taken aback. Luckily I had Kuldeep Singh’s landline number. I called from the reception itself. Kuldeep came on line and he was sympathetic. He confirmed that there was something wrong and that it was infact Kuldeep who received the phone call from India.

I believe the call from India shocked Padma. The gist of the matter was that Aunty was not allowed to board the flight from Mumbai to Addis Ababa and that she was sent back to Hyderabad. Padma had twin worries, the trauma that was caused to Aunty on her shocking ordeal and the second was how to inform me that her mother was not arriving. If the information was not passed on, I would have waited for hours together at Bole International Airport, waiting for Aunty.

It was Kuldeep who found out that I would stay at Tourist Hotel. At that time there were no telephone directories in Bahirdar. Many frantic calls later, one of the Indian finally gave Kuldeep the phone number of Tourist hotel. It was then Padma called the hotel reception and passed on the information.

All this was mumbo-jumbo to me. I asked Kuldeep to call Padma. It was an anxious ten-minute wait. Padma was on the phone. Her voice was quivering and she appeared strained. She said “Even I have very sketchy information. I was told by nannagaru that mummy checked in at Mumbai International Airport, the luggage was loaded on to the plane and that she was breezing through the customs when the tragedy struck.

The customs officer apparently looked at mummy’s passport and said that she had ECR (Emigration Check Required). (ECR was a provision made by the Indian government to prevent uneducated Indians being exploited especially in the Middle East).

As mummy did not have a ECR clearance stamp or a ECNR the customs officer refused to allow her to board.”.

Padma continued “I believe there was a considerate frequent traveler who was in the same flight. I believe he said that as mummy is a green card holder and frequent traveler to many parts of the world that she need not have an ECR”.

But I was told that the stone hearted customs officer became more and more angry and refused to budge from his stand. He glibly stated that aunty needed to go back to Hyderabad and get an ECNR clearance from the Hyderabad passport office.

Ethiopian Airlines were forced to off load aunty’s luggage and she was left stranded in the departure lounge. Some good Samaritans came to aunty’s help and assisted her in buying a ticket back to Hyderabad.

This information hit me like a bolt from the blue. I asked Padma “How much time will it take for aunty to get an ECNR and fly to Addis Ababa?” “No idea” Padma, replied “May be 4 to 5 days”.

This new information was like as if somebody drove a sledge hammer into my stomach “4 to 5 days!!!!” what will I do in Addis Ababa??”. Poor lady, Padma did not have the answer.

I returned to the room. The first thing I did was to check the money that I had. Remember, I bought the air tickets so that was not a problem. I had around 500 birr and a US 100-dollar note. If I were to change the 100 dollar note, I would be richer by another 800 birr.

That triggered me. I rushed to the Ethiopian Airlines office. They were about to shut shop for the day. The smiling booking counter lady canceled my next day morning flight to Bahirdar and put me on hold. I would have to confirm my next flight date at least a day in advance. Thankfully the rate would remain the same and I was not charged any cancellation fee. She shyly accepted my exuberant “Ameseginalehu (thank you in Amharic)”.

I went back and sat on an empty table at the Tree Top Bakery. Should I go back to Bahirdar? Travel takes two days both ways and I might have to rush back as the exact date of Aunty’s flight was unknown. I decided to stay back and rough it out in Addis Ababa. Luckily for me it was vacation time and there was no urgent need to get back to Bahirdar University, Bahirdar.

“When things get tough the tough get going” I reminded myself. 6 days x 40 birr would come up to 240 birr as room rent. That left me with 260 birr for me to have food and spend four to five dreary days in Addis Ababa. I was determined to hang on to the US 100-dollar note. I might still need to change it into birr!

Food was quite cheap in Addis at that time. Breakfast could be had for 5 birr and Bayenetu would set me back by another 3-5 birr. Even if I felt like indulging myself with Injera with Dorovat (chicken curry), Injera with Asa dulet (fish curry) or Injera with Tibs (mutton pieces roasted in Ghee) would cost 10-15 birr. I was super confident that my total food expenses would be around 20 birr per day. 20-birr x 6 days mean another 120 birr.

260 birr as lodging expenses and 120 birr as boarding expense meant that I would be left with 120 birr (around 600 rupees) to stay calm, cool, sane, collected and wait out the time for Aunty to make her hard earned trip to Addis Ababa. That night sleep proved to be an elusive mistress – teasing me all the time but not enveloping me in her broad bosom.

89 - Anasuya Aunty’s visit and Surprise of surprises at Mercato – Ethiopian Journey.

10^th October is the big day as far as this blog is concerned. It was 10^th October 2017, when I wrote the first blog post, titled “The genesis – Ethiopian journey – Part – I”. I   made a mental vow. That I would blog daily and that I would limit myself to 500 words per blog post.

Let me admit I was way off the mark on both counts, guilty as charged!!!  I could blog only 88 times instead of the self-promised 365 times and my average word count is 917 words per blog against 500 words. 365 blogs @ 500 words would have meant 1,82,500 words. I have so far reached 80,661 words to pen my 88 blogs. 

So much for the statistics of my one-year journey. The next interesting event that we were all anticipating in July 2003 was the visit of Padma’s mother Mrs. Anasuya Devi Matam. Anasuya Aunty lived in the USA along with her second son, Matam Sai Prasad, a well-known Software Engineer. Anasuya aunty’s elder son Luke (Srinivas) Matam also lived in the USA.

Aunty had her life cut out for travel! Her daughter was in India till 2002, and both her sons were in USA. But our going to Ethiopia changed it all. Now her relatives near and dear were in India, sons in USA and daughter in Africa. She was literally straddling three continents; Asia, America and Africa (Triple A, what a coincidence!). Aunty was made of very sterner stuff! She wanted to visit us, come what may! She did not want to miss seeing her grand children growing up.

A plan was made for her to visit Bahirdar, Ethiopia. The plan hit a stumbling road block. Sai told us that the air fare from SFO (San Francisco) to Addis Ababa were way too expensive.  A ticket from SFO – Hyderabad – Mumbai – Addis Ababa was cheaper than SFO - Addis Ababa. It was decided that Aunty would come to Hyderabad, India and from there come to Addis Ababa and then to Bahirdar.

The first part of the plan went as per schedule. Aunty landed in India and was overjoyed to see her relatives and friends. The information about her arrival was conveyed to us through ‘rock(et) communication’.

Our Rocket communication was the joke of entire Kable 7. In 2003 landline phones were rare in Bahirdar and luckily for us Kuldeep had one and his house was right behind ours. Whenever he received our telephone call from India/USA he would throw a small rock onto our roof. As the roofs were all make of tin, the falling of the rock made quite a noise. A falling rock meant a telephone call. We would lock the house and make a quick beeline to receive the rare telephone call from India/USA.

We were told, when aunty would come to Addis Ababa and Padma and me made suitable plans. Padma and the kids were quite keen to come to Addis but I convinced them (may be prophetically) that I would go alone. I told Padma quite jovially “You better stay here. May be some information might come in from India/USA”.

On the day before Aunty was supposed to come, I went to Addis Ababa by the trusted Cobra (Toyota Land Cruiser). By now I got used to the dusty and bumpy road travel and with a handkerchief draped on the face the journey was bearable.

I landed in the evening in Addis and took a room in Tourist Hotel, Arat Kilo. It was quite spacious for a single person. The tiresome travel and the delicious Bayenetu (Injera served with Vegetables) had me nodding off to sleep in no time.

The next day dawned quite chilly. I had to spend the entire day as Aunty’s flight was only expected at mid night! I went to the local Ethiopian Airlines office and booked two tickets, for the next day morning. Spending an entire day in Addis Ababa was not a big deal. I went to Mercato, the biggest open air market in the world.

Unlike the nay sayers Mercato is very safe. Obviously we need to take care of our wallets just like any other city of the world. Unfolding in front of me were unbelievable items and products that I was totally unaware off.

I stopped and gazed at a beautiful article, the size of a small water melon. It looked very fragile and had stunningly beautiful Ethiopian motifs painted on it. I took this quite peculiar article in my hand. I thought it was made of wood.

To my surprise it was hollow and light. “What is it?” I asked in wonder. “Yesegoni Inikulali” was the impudent answer. Inkulal as we spelt it, I knew was an egg. Then it dawned on me, I was looking at the biggest egg that a bird could lay – An ostrich egg!!!

The discovery stunned me. It was totally unexpected. Seeing an ostrich egg itself was rare and here I was looking at an ostrich egg transformed into an art piece. It was breathtakingly beautiful. The enterprising youngster made a small incision at the base of the egg and sucked out all the liquid.

Then he sealed the hole and painted beautiful tales from the bible. The huge challenge would have been to bring symmetry and structure to a painting on a curved surface. I had never seen anything as artistic as the painted ostrich egg in my hands!

Then the battle started. I asked the rate. It was 500 birr. I rolled my eyes up, made a noise as if a scooter was revving up. I said “Orroo! Habesha, Firanji ilem (hold on, hold on, I am a local not a foreigner)”. I quoted 50 birr. The vendor was not impressed. He sat on his high horse. “400 Birr” was his snarling reply, as I made a hasty get away. I was almost ambushed 100 metres away. “how much, how much” he was demanding. “80 birr, 80 birr (Rs 400 or roughly 8 dollars at that time)” I said, sounding more confident than I felt.

With a disgusted look, he shoved the Ethiopian egg roughly into my hand and I paid him his eighty birr. It was a damn tough task to get the fragile egg back to my room. I had not carried any bag and the Indian carrying an ostrich egg in his hand and dexterously maneuvering it through the crowds and protecting it as if his life depended on its survival must have made quite an impression on many Ethiopians.

It was almost 5 p.m. by the time I reached Tourist hotel and I have to wait for seven more hours before the flight landed from Mumbai. I went to room and tried to relax, but I was as tense as a coiled spring.  I was good to go.