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.