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.