107 – A day in God’s own playground, Simien Mountains, Ethiopia.

 

 

Picture Credit: httpspixabay.comphotosethiopia-simien-mountain-gelada-4371441

Simien mountains are known for Gelada baboons or weeping heart monkeys. These territorial baboons have a red heart-shaped patch of hair on their chests. Even though they appear to be cute they can cause deadly damage with their razor-sharp teeth.

Luckily for us, they were quite shy and escaped scrambling up small hillocks the minute they saw us. Alex, the Russian teacher proved to be a worthy chaser. He took off after them and clicked some worthwhile keepsake snaps.   

 

Tasleem was quite disappointed that she could not snap the Gelada Baboons. Someone remarked, “Those are monkeys, and they are our distinct cousins. They need to show respect by waiting to be clicked by their Jaat Bhais (Cousins in Hindi)”.

 

Not to be outdone Kuldeep replied, “Arrey bhai log, they are Ethiopian monkeys and not Indian. So they are not aware of our Reethi and Riwaaz (our culture and customs)”. The entire group roared in laughter and our real Bhai (Ethiopian guard with the AK -47) was nonplussed, but smiled politely!

 

We found huge berry-like fruits, hundreds of them. Jeevan sir cracked one open. It was not pulpy but had many black seeds. We were pondering whether to taste them. “Tewe (STOP) !!!!!” said the guard snatching the fruit from Jeevan sir’s hand.

 

None of us could understand Amharic, but his mime was chilling. He was telling us that the fruit and the seeds were poisonous. That the seeds were ground to make poison used as a dip for the arrows. The final rubbing into the wound.  “The fruit is so poisonous that even the Galada baboons would not touch them. Someone whispered from the back, “Oh my god, he is insinuating that the baboons are better than us. At least common sense wise!”

 

Somebody else said, “At least he is better at mime and acting than most of our film stars”. I could not agree more!

 

Finally, we reached the mountain’s table-top. The air was cold and brisk. Even though taking a breath was slightly difficult due to the rarefied atmosphere, we could still enjoy the vistas, the low that came in quickly and played truant with us all the time. It was as if we were floating in the clouds.

 

We had limited time at hand. Our drivers gave us an ultimatum. “One hour” they said. We were in unison with them. The drive up was scary and we were sure that the climb down would be equally hard and scary.

 

Even If one of our vans broke down, we were done for the night. Simien mountains were not home to dangerous animals like tigers and Lions but the nights can become cold. We were wearing woollens but they would not be adequate for spending a night in one of the coldest places in Ethiopia! Night temperatures could fall to as much as -10 degrees centigrade.

 

The guide informed us that we were very near a hot spring source. We were all excited as hot springs are supposed to be elixirs for health. We tried approaching the hot springs but were stopped dead by the stench! The approach to the hot springs had an obnoxious smell.

 

Undeterred Kuldeep and I approached the hot springs. The hot springs were a huge disappointment. It was a shallow place and the government had fitted some taps for people to use the hot water. But the locals and the tourists were using it as a free toilet and the stench was unbearable. We bet a quick retreat!

 

Away from the hot springs we sat down and had our humble lunch. We invited the drivers and our guard but they declined. They were not very keen on our chapattis, curry and rice menu. They had meagre lunch, Injera, some chilli powder and onion. Once their lunch was done, some quick chewing of the Khat leaves and they were ready to move again!

Surrounding us and greedily looking on were a group of blackbirds. Menacing and quite big. So big that forget Pranav and Sahithi, even the elderly were scared!

Listening to the whispering the Zoologist in me woke up (after all, my basic degree was in B.Z.C! Botany Zoology and Chemistry). “not to worry, not to worry” I Cooed like a smug Pigeon, “That is not an eagle or a vulture, it is a Raven”.

 

This scared the group even further as most did not know what a raven was, “Raven is a sort of a crow, big crow”. The showman in me could not take it any longer, “raven is the bird that was featured in Damien (Omen 2). In the movie the raven plucks a lady’s eyes out of their sockets” I glibly explained.

 

Now the entire group was dead scared. Head down they munched on the food, never for a second looking at the innocent Ravens. The magnificent ravens were not bothered. They were harmless and were quite happy with the bits of the chapattis and the tiger rice (Pulihora) flung in their direction. They were majestic birds, totally black and completely harmless!

 

Lunch done we climbed down and reached Gondar back without any hitch or accident. I told the group, “maybe we were blessed by the Ravens” Giving me scornful looks they all disappeared into the rooms. Wanting to rest their aching bones!

 

Padma, Aunty, Pranav, Sahithi and me went around the beautiful Gondar city. We bought ten Kgs of precious Sona Masoori rice. At 10 birr/Kilo (around 50 rupees) it was a steal. We bought Semiya too! Gondar is a bigger city than Bahirdar and has many ice-cream centres, unlike Bahirdar.

 

Wonder of wonders we found and bought Cadbury chocolates much to Pranav and Sahithi’s delight. They also had avocado juice. Avocado juice in Ethiopia is the 8^th wonder of the world. Juices in Ethiopia at least at that time had to be eaten and not drunk.

https://pixabay.com/photos/coffee-beans-ethiopia-549647/

Served with a spoon, even an eight-year-old Pranav could not finish a full glass, He had to share it with Sahithi! Aunty, Padma and me had sissy drinks, Macatho (Coffee with milk)! Something that the Ethiopians simply abhorred (hated). For a blue-blooded Ethiopian coffee had to be black and strong, and many cups of it in a day! (1040)

106 - Simien Mountains - God's own playing ground!

Finally, we were on our way to the Simien mountain viewpoint. The drive was as scenic as it gets. As we started climbing higher and higher, the air got crisper, and we could sense and feel the mountains, literally. 

Picture courtesy https://pixabay.com/photos/ethiopia-mountains-road-valley-sky-1960539/

Some of the most spectacular mountains surrounded us! Jagged and abruptly arising from the surroundings. Before we could admire one set of mountains, another would appear and gone before we could saviour them. The entire tour party had fallen silent.

The drama that was unfolding in front of our eyes was as spell-bounding as an Imax 3D movie. We can watch an Imax 3D movie again, but a trip to Simien has to be captured in the hearts and treasured!

The mountains were not bare. They were bathing in shades of yellow, purple and green. The yellow colour was from the Meskel flowers, and the other predominant colour was purple. The purple flowers were small but made it up by their enormous volume.

They were simply a riot of colours! Surprisingly some of the mountain slopes and meadows had dark yellow flowers, and some had light coloured ones. Throughout our drive, we could see either dark yellow or light yellow flowers. Never a mixture of light and dark yellow Meskel flowers together.

Anasuya aunty got overcome by the visual tapestry unfolding in front of her eyes, “The yellow colour reminds me of the turmeric that we had pound for Satish’s (Padma’s cousin) marriage”. Not to be outdone her daughter, Padma piped in, “Yes Mom” she exclaimed, “the vast yellow and purple colour in-between reminds me of Dhup-Chaav (double colour) sarees ”.

I groaned internally. Women! They immediately have to associate the scenery with marriages and sarees!!!. But the grandeur was such that it gave people ideas, even to the very practical Padma.

The van screeched to a halt, and a check post beckoned. Swiftly we got out, and an officer took a roll call. The government officer quoted an astronomical permit fee. By now we knew the game! Mulugeta feigned disgust and threw in a barrage of Amharic. 

We could not understand the conversation but could get the gist of what he was saying. He was uttering the words Astamari (teacher) and Abessa (a native of Ethiopia and not a foreigner) quite frequently. He was telling the government official that we were a group of teachers who have come to Ethiopia and that we were not foreigners but were residents and that we had R.P's (Residence permits).  

The government officer wilted like a tired rose faced with such eloquence. He meekly asked us to show our residence permits and grudgingly agreed that we could pay the Ethiopian fee to enter the Simien Mountain National Park. I think the fee was 20 birr per person and the fee was around 20 U.S. (170 Birr) dollars for a foreigner. The difference was quite astronomical.

But the government official had the last laugh. Mulugeta returned to the group. His demeanour was down, and he looked crushed. Semien Mountain National Park was a protected area, and it was quite common for tourists to tease and harm the wild animals.

The national park was also home to many wild animals including the unpredictable Galada baboons. We had to hire the services of a guard, and the guard came with a fee of 250 birrs (almost 30 U.S. dollars). It was a shocking price. At that time our secretary in the management department at Bahirdar University salary was 250 birrs/month.

We had no choice. Either we take the services of the guard, or we had to turn back. Faced with an ultimatum, we caved in and meekly paid the 250 birrs. The guard appeared. He was a lean non-discrepant Ethiopian man, quite frail. He didn't inspire any confidence or had aggression that would frighten a band of thieves or a group of marauding monkeys (Galada baboons).

Picture Courtesy https://pixabay.com/photos/ethiopia-africa-national-park-2980034/

The guard sensed our scepticism. He went to an Almirah and whipped out something nonchalantly. And in his hand appeared – a shining mean as mean can be AK 47 gun, fully loaded and ready to take on the bad guys and the badder Baboons!

Pranav was mesmerized with the AK 47. He had (in fact all of us had) seen AK 47 guns only in movies and seeing one in real life, and that too in such proximity was an experience in itself. The guard turned out to be a lovely person. Quiet and friendly he later allowed all of us to handle his gun (of course with the safety catch on). We took keepsake photographs of us brandishing the AK 47 gun, the Simien Singhams! 

We spotted a grand waterfall snaking its way through the majestic mountains. The waterfalls, the colourful mountains and the foggy and dreamy weather made the sight of water gushing through the fall made for a great view. 

The foggy weather and the low slung clouds made the drive surreal. It was as if we were driving among the clouds. Suddenly, someone shouted, “Simien Fox, Simien Fox”.

The van screeched to a halt. We poured out. The spotter was damn sure that he saw the elusive Simien fox chasing an Ibex, the beautiful Ethiopian mountain goat. But the foggy weather meant that we could spot neither the cunning fox nor the doughy Ibex.

Ibex are incredible climbers and can climb any mountain cliff. They are such good climbers that they can climb even the most vertical cliffs and graze in a matter of fact manner – as if they are on stable ground.

As we were climbing to the viewpoint, I explained to the group “Ras Dashen the highest mountain among the Simien mountains is close. But the non-motorable road means that it takes a seven-day trek to reach the summit and come back. The trek is arduous, and only the most experienced trekkers can endure the trip. And the mountain top at Ras Dashen can be biting cold”. 

103 - The devil in Detail – Gondar, Simien and Lalibela trip.

Mulugeta our tour guide gave us the details of the tour. We would be starting on the 26th of September and would come back on the 30th of September 2003. The trip would begin from Bahirdar, and first, we would go to Gondar. Gondar boosts of some spectacular forts, churches and Fasilidas bath a world heritage centre. 

From Gondar, we would go to Lalibela, and incidentally, the 27th of September is Meskel the big Ethiopian festival. Meskel is the annual religious festival of the Ethiopian orthodox church which commemorates the discovery of the True Cross by the Roman Empress Helena in the fourth century. 

Meskel occurs on the 17th Meskerem in the Ethiopian Calendar or the 27th of September in the Georgian calendar. "Meskel" is the Geez word for "cross". Geez is the holy language of Ethiopia. Geez is the language of the holy scripts. It is the Sanskrit language of Ethiopia! 

Many Ethiopians who live in cities return to their villages to celebrate the national event. The Meskel celebration includes the burning of a large bonfire or Demera based on the belief that Queen Eleni as she is known had a revelation in her dream.  

The prophecy was that the queen should make a bonfire and that the smoke would show her where the true Cross lay buried. The queen ordered the people of Jerusalem to bring wood and make a huge pile. Frankincense was added, and the bonfire was lit. The smoke rose high to the sky and returned, precisely to the burial spot of the true Cross.

The Demera procession takes place in the early evening the day before Meskel or on the day itself. Charcoal remains from the fire is collected and the faithful mark their foreheads with the shape of a cross. One of the significant occurrences of the festival is the coinciding with the mass blooming of meskel flowers, the golden-yellow daisies.  

We had not seen the Meskel celebration and were in great anticipation to witness it at Lalibela, the holiest of the Ethiopian sites. It is like witnessing Brahmotsavam in Tirupati. The festivities have the same energy and vibrancy of the Ravana Samharam performed on the 10th day of the Indian Dussehra festival.   

Then it was down to the costing. The trip estimation was 12,000 birr or 60,000 rupees. It was overall 1200 dollars or 100 dollars (Rs 5,000/-) per person, and It was a dirt-cheap deal. However, it was puzzling that the Indian community was so stingy that it was not willing to spend Rs 5,000/- on a trip that they would never get another chance to experience. 

I told the group that the costs were only an estimate and that expenses could go up or down. Everyone paid the 1000 birr without a murmur. 

I cautioned the group and told them to carry woollens, essential medicines, mosquito nets, trekking shoes and water. Water is critical as water quality is quite variable in Ethiopia and bottled mineral water was not available at all places. There was an agreement that we should carry at least five litres of water per person. 

As we had kids (Pranav and Sahithi), it was decided that we carry homemade food. Padma volunteered to make masala pooris, Murukulu (a readymade snack) and Mango pickle. Kuldeep's items were fifty chapattis, pudina chutney, garlic chutney and alu (potato) curry, Tasleem got to prepare fifty chapattis, T.N.Murthy got one kg fried groundnuts, Geeta madam got pullihora and chips, Dr. Neelima's items were lemon rice and mango pickle.  

Man proposes, and God disposes. Exactly twelve hours before the trip Mulugeta dropped a bomb! There was a change in the plan. The bus that we had booked was not available. Another group of tourists booked it, and that information did not percolate down to Mulugeta. 

Now we would be provided two minivans. The travel itinerary changed too. We would first go Gondar, then from Gondar to Simien mountains. From Simien mountains, we would return to Gondar. From Gondar, via Oreta, we would go to Lalibela. The bus would be available from Oreta onwards. And from Lalibela, we would come back to Bahirdar. And to top it all there would be two Irish tourists who would be joining our group. Like all things African, it was a flat ultimatum delivered in a no-nonsense tone. We had no choice but to accept. Time was not on our side. It was Mulugeta's way or the high way (get lost you, Indian group!)

That day evening, we had the final meeting before the trip. Dr.T.N.Murthy took to the floor, cleared his voice and spoke in the most stentorian voice. As he spoke we cowered, such was his eloquence "Good evening, brothers and sisters of Kable 7 and Kable 3 (Jeevan sir's house was in Kable 3). Our trip starts tomorrow. All of us have to maintain time. 

Don't think that it is only Anil Ramesh Sir's trip. It is our collective trip. We are spending LOT OF MONEY. Let us share responsibility. We will have buggy leaders every day. Day one it will be Anil sir, 2nd day it will be me, the third day it will be Dr. Kuldeep, 4th day it will be Jeevan sir, and on day five it will be Dr. Neelima and Tasleem. Let us take collective decisions. FRIENDS WE HAVE TO ENJOY TO THE MAXIMUM AS WE ARE SPENDING LOT OF MONEY" .  Even after 16 years, the speech still rings in my ears. It had the same effect on me as Mark Anthony's speech had on the commoners of Rome! 

Then came the dilemma, what to do with our Valuables? Passports, gold and relevant documents. Pesto, an idea flashed! Why don't we entrust them to Chidambaram (our ever helpful, eager beaver next-door neighbour)?

I knocked on his door, and Chidambaram cautiously it. I barged in and gave him the bag. I chirped "Chidambaram sir; please keep this bag. We are off to the trip tomorrow morning" I was sounding more confident than I was feeling! 

Chidambaram gave me a look that would have burnt lesser mortals. He took the bag without a word and nodded his head. 

I came back and gave Padma conspiratory wink "It is done" I smirked. As I was smirking, there was a knock at the front door. Who else, it was Chidambaram. 

He was carrying our bag. Without a preamble, he said "I don't think I can keep this bag. I might have to go to Gondar on an official trip. In which case, I can't guarantee the safety of your valuables." 

I was bewildered. Chidambaram and I belonged to the same department, and there was no official trip on the anvil. "what official trip?" I gaped at him. It was my best imitation of a fish gasping for air. Chidambaram fixed me with a stern look "I never said that there is an official trip. I said if there is an official trip". 

I often thought of myself as being smart. I cooed to Chidambaram. My voice was dripping with sugar "That is right, that is right. Official trips can be a pain in the backside". I brightened up "Sure, sure, if there is an official trip, where would you keep your valuables?". 

Mr. Chidambaram looked at me as if he was looking at an eight-year-old imbecile "I never trust anyone with my valuables. I would carry it with me" and added with extra emphasis "on my person". 

My defences collapsed as if they were a bank of sand hit by a Tsunami. I took my bag and bade him goodbye. I had to go to PEDA campus and request Rajani madam to take care of my valuables. Luckily for me, she accepted to keep them. Exhausted, we quickly went to sleep as we had an early start the next day morning. 

102 - Trip to Gondar, Simien Mountains and lalibela - Ethiopian Journey

The first bit of bad news came from PEDA campus. TSFM (Telugu Speaking faculty member) who was annoyed at not being invited went and frightened Rajani out of her wits. He said “Rajani, you are going to die if you go to Lalibela. You will get malaria, no doubt at all”. 

Rattled at the talk of death, next day Rajani approached me in the university. She said “I came all the way from India to earn, save and go back. I don’t want to die like a nobody in this remote place”. The seriousness with which the message was delivered was stunning. I politely told her not to worry and asked her to stay put, safe at Bahirdar. 

The talk of Rajani not coming boosted the chances of Clara coming, as both could not see eye to eye. Even though they shared the same flat, the animosity between Clara and Rajani was known to the entire teaching community of Bahirdar. 

Then the news trickled in. Unknown to me Bala invited his HOD from Electrical Engineering Department along with his entire family. This threw a spanner in our plan. Addis Gedafaw was a very young Ethiopian girl and was quite compatible with us. We neither knew the HOD of Electrical Engineering nor knew his wife and kids. I had to call Balakrishna and tell him to drop the invitation to his HOD. 

This was the tipping point. Somehow it was construed that me being a PEDA faculty did not want the faculty (both Indian and Ethiopian) of POLY campus to come along with us to the trip. I watched haplessly as the rumours grew and spread. 

Days were slipping by and Mulugeta our tour guide kept reminding us that we needed to confirm the trip. The waiting game was dragging on. On 23rd of September, I made up my mind. I would tell our entire group of 18 invitees to confirm by the next day. 

That evening on the way to the market, I met Suresh. He was coming to my house. He was quite flustered. He said forthrightly “Anil sir. What you are doing is not correct. You are inviting selectively. This is creating bad feelings among us all. Bala is feeling very upset about the withdrawal of invitation to his HOD. If Addis can be called, why not his HOD? Even TSFM approached me. Why is he not invited”? He was not mincing words.  

The last week had been tough. I had to conduct the end-term examination for the extension classes, grade and submit the results. I was also the PRO of Bahirdar University and had to organise a press conference. On the top, Aunty’s return date to India was approaching fast and the trip could not be postponed. The mental trauma of the previous week spilled over. 

“Suresh”, I told him “There is no conspiracy theory. I am neither neglecting nor persecuting any one. Time is simply running out. We have already decided on the list of invitees. The reasons for not inviting TSFM is known to you. Alex is a bachelor and so is Addis. I thought inviting an Ethiopian family with kids would be too much of a cultural barrier to cross. And we do not know them at all. Their customs and habits might not be compatible with ours. That is why I had to tell Bala to drop the invitation”. Suresh did not look convinced at all. 

The ding-dong business of going forth and coming back had worn me down. I told him point blank, “Suresh, I think the trip has reached a point of no return. Our family had decided. Aunty has come all the way from America. We want to see Gondar, Lalibela and Simien mountains, come what may. We will go and we will go inspite of any one coming or not. Now it is individuals’ choice. They can take their own decisions”. Hearing this ultimatum, Suresh’s face turned red. He wished me goodbye and cycled away. I knew that the bridge was broken. 

By the time I returned from the market the damage was done. Suresh called Dr. Kuldeep on his landline. He informed Kuldeep that he, his wife and Bala were not coming to the trip. Cool and composed, Kuldeep assured Suresh that it was all right. 

By night, Dr. Naidu from POLY too dropped out. He cited his sinus problem and said that the cold weather in Simien might aggravate his problem. The reason was accepted, with a smile!

Now bad news was flooding in. Addis had twisted her ankle and was advised bed rest. She was forced to drop out. Clara and Addis were close friends and Clara too dropped out. It was looking as if the punters of Bahirdar were right. Spanners were being thrown into the trip, left, right, and centre and the wheels were coming off, quite dramatically. 

That evening an SOS (emergency) meeting was held in Dr. Kuldeep’s house in Kable 7. It was literally all hands on the deck. I told the meeting, “Things are not in our favour. But our family wants to go. And we will go, no matter, what. You are free to take your own decisions. We can’t wait. This dillydallying is very upsetting. We need to plan for the trip and pay advance to Ghion hotel”. 

Kuldeep broke out in laughter “Arrey Anil Saab. Why so solemn? Shilpa and I, are coming”. Dr. Neelima and Tasneem too nodded their affirmative. Looking on was an impassive T.N. Murthy. He said suddenly, “I am coming too. Seeing you face so much resistance, I would like to be part of the trip”. That was very good news. 

Now we had five from our family (myself, Padma, Pranav, Sahithi and Aunty) and Dr. Kuldeep, Shilpa, Dr. T.N. Murthy, Dr. Neelima and Tasneem. That made the count a solid ten. Alex, the Russian too was in. A phone call and Jeevan confirmed that he and his wife too were in. 

I told the gathering, “that is it. We are freezing the group. We are a group of 12 (not considering Sahithi, a baby)”. I beamed at them, “Wow, we are a dirty dozen (punning on the popular western movie from Hollywood)”. Even though, said in jest, the tag struck. we were christened the Dirty Dozen. 

That evening we went and met Mulugeta and paid advance of 5,000 birr. He was shell shocked. We were paying for a bus of 22 but had only 12 tourists. We would start on 27th of September and return back by 31st September. Our trip was on, officially.

99 - Taking Extension Classes at BDU, Bahirdar University, Ethiopian Journey

Indians, especially expatriate Indians who venture out of India tend to be on the lookout to make as much money as possible.  The only legitimate way of earning some extra money was to take extension classes. Getting an assignment to take extension classes was not an easy task and getting them was totally dependent upon the whims and fancies of the HOD concerned.

For the uninitiated extension classes, are sessions that are held on Saturday and Sunday in Ethiopian Universities.  They are called open university classes in India which too are held on Saturday and Sunday.  Mostly from Monday to Friday, sessions are held for regular students.

Extension classes are for part time students and employees who cannot afford to take regular classes. Most of the extension classes are handled by Ethiopian faculty as their salaries at that time were almost one tenth of the salary that was paid to expatriate teachers.

When there was a shortage of faculty or when there was a lack of expertise in teaching a particular subject, the expat Indian teachers too, were roped in to handle extension classes.  

For taking extension classes 800 Birr was paid for each credit hour.  For a three credit hour course the faculty was paid 2,400 Birr which amounted to 12,000 Indian rupees. Decent, it took care of our two months’ expenditure.

I was lucky to get extension classes in all the semesters during my stint at Bahirdar University for which I should be thankful to all my HODs.  One of the most peculiar things about Ethiopian universities was the administrative structure of the academic departments. Most of the Indian teachers had a minimum ten to fifteen years of teaching experience. At the same time their reporting HODs were very young. Many of them were 21 or 22-year-old university graduates.

Sometimes Indian Faculty had to face prickly situations. The student whom they had taught in the previous semester suddenly becomes their HOD. This was quite a situation as one’s student who was a meek and submissive suddenly becomes your boss!! She/he starts monitoring your work, is responsible for the appraisal and yes will even sit on the committee which will decide on the recommendation of the renewal of the contract!!!

Most Indians including me adapted quite well to this scenario. Some expats including Indians who could not adjust were either given marching orders or were allowed to finish the contract and their contracts were not renewed. It was the Ethiopian way of saying “it is my way or the highway”.

I was in for a big shock when I went to take the extension classes for the first time. A classroom which usually holds up to 60 students, had 90 to 100 eager beaver students sitting choc-o-block, Literally cheek-to-cheek!!

It was an amazing sight. The distance from the black board to the first row of students would be 4 feet!  I was paralyzed with apprehension and felt claustrophobic. Most of the students sitting in the front row were young women and they would follow my movements like the spectators following a tennis ball in a stadium. I found the entire experience to be quite nerve whacking.

The worst was yet to come. There was too much dust in the duster and I stepped out of the classroom to clear it. I had a quite peculiar feeling. It was as if someone was drilling into my back. I suddenly whipped around and the sight almost made me drop dead. The entire 90 -100 students had turned left and were solemnly looking at me hitting the duster on the wall just like chicks watching their mother foraging for insects. I did not know what to make of it!

The young women would fidget and they were within touching distance. The teacher can’t make any sweeping comments (pun unintended) or swoosh his arms around. For a faculty like me who likes to walk around and make gestures, it was like being chained to a post. And the collective “Ishh” the sound that the Ethiopian students make to show their consent sounded like leaves rustling in the garden.

I realized the hunger that the students had for education. It dawned on me; the students were neither adept at speaking in English nor were interactive but they were quite brilliant and their hunger for knowledge made them delightful students. The students were paying hefty fees (by Ethiopian standards), sometimes up to 30 to 40% of their annual pay so that they could climb up the social ladder and get better jobs and make their families more secure. I was humbled.

There were fringe benefits of taking extension classes. Padma later remarked that we were getting better services, better prices and quality products in Bahirdar markets.  Most of the people who were working in the restaurants, in the fruit shops, retail outlets and the taxi drivers, maids, many of the non-teaching staff including Ms. Mahider our management department’s typist/secretary were my extension students.

Padma would look piercingly at girls who gave me ravishing smiles and ask, “Are they your Extension students?”. I would nod my head slowly in predicament. There were give or take around 40 – 50 women in a class and many a time I would be handling two to three extension classes. How do I remember faces of 150 young women, whom I see only twice in a week, that too only for two hours?

And to make matters worse their work place attire and the attire that they wore at the university differed. Luckily for me, I could get away talking with a ravishing Ethiopian beauty in Bahirdar. Padma would immediately assume that she was my student!!!

The friendly banter (teasing) that was directed at Indian teachers by the locals too got reduced considerably, for me at least. The rabble rousers were now scared! The tables were turned and the shoe was on the other foot. Their subject evaluation and grades were in my hand. Even Pranav was less targeted. Because of extension classes, I had students all over Bahirdar city. It is a matter of pride that we Indians touched the lives of so many Ethiopians in our own small way.

98 – Police Interrogation – The Case of the Stolen Clothes – Ethiopian Journey

The next day as we were having a leisurely breakfast, there were loud thuds and heavy banging on the front door. I walked out and opened the door and was shell shocked. There was a cobra (Toyota land Cruiser) parked in front of my house and a bunch of cops.

There were at least four to five young cops (may be our constable cadre, any how it was a herculean task to ask their ranks as my Amharic and their English would be at the same level – rudimentary, to say the least). And two or three senior cops. They were all wielding heavy artillery, (pistols and AK – 47s).

A sneaky doubt was forming in my mind. Did something go wrong in the university? Did any of my students complain about the grades awarded? My imagination was running wild.

Seeing my bewildered expression, the senior most cop opened up, “You, Anil??!!” It was more than a question; it was an accusation. “Me, Anil”, I responded sounding as meek as possible.

“Enquiry” he announced in a pompous voice. The realization dawned. Oh Oh, they were here to enquire about the robbery!!! (“but why the excessive force both human and weapons wise?” I asked myself. But who am I in the bigger scheme of things, especially in the matter of Ethiopian law and order).

To protect myself from being the laughing stock of the kable, I invited them in. They reluctantly followed.

Padma and the kids were shocked at the cavalcade. The police force stopped in the verandah. “Here?” was the cryptic question. By now, I was familiar with the Ethiopian short gun version of talking in English. Fire, but fire short…. precise bullets. Talk using as few English words as possible.

I nodded a silent affirmative. The senior cop took over. We watched them open mouthed as he walked up and down the verandah. Padma pointed out the nails from which the clothes line was hung. The Police chief went and peered through the rickety green boundary wall between our house and Chidambaram’s. He was quite annoyed. His annoyance was further enhanced when he looked at our front door. He muttered something to himself in Amharic.

He plonked himself in our bamboo sofa and Padma and I, sat in front of him. “What you lose?” Padma started off, “Anil’s shirt and his favourite pant” “PANT!!??” was the anguished yelp. “Yes” Padma was on a confident wicket, “His favourite pant, this pant was special. It is the pant that he wore on our marriage reception. He had been wearing it for the past 12 years’. She was laying it as thick as possible.

“Favourite pant, wearing it for 12 years!!!” The top cop was wailing. He was nonplussed. “OH MY GOD” I muttered to myself “there is a cultural issue raging on”. “Trouser sir, Trouser” I responded quickly dousing the flames of cultural misunderstanding. I threw an almighty glare at Padma gesturing her to be silent.

Pants for Ethiopians are under garments (underwear) and the district SP would have been shocked that this mad Indian had worn the same under garment for twelve years and that too proudly claiming that it was his wedding pant. “Trouser Sir” I said again “Trouser”.

“Trouser” said the relieved SP. He was clutching at proverbial straws. He made a very dramatic recovery. “Umhh, he said, “What colour?”. “Slate” Padma replied. “Slate? What Slate?!!” “Greyish black” I said in a consolatory voice. “BLACK” he said as light dawned on him.

He quickly made an inventory of lost items. It was a herculean task to describe the clothes. Necessity, the mother of invention took over. Padma brought out similar clothing and showed it to him. The SP very solemnly and quite laboriously scribbled all our lost clothing in a note book. He had the exasperating habit of asking us the brand names of the clothes that we lost.

He frankly did not understand the concept of getting clothes stitched by a tailor and expected us to remember brand names of the clothes. The SP asked Pranav to come. Pranav who was speechless at the sight of the guns came forward. “You” the SP pointed out “You lose anything?” Pranav responded, almost in tears, “My suspenders”. “Suspenders??!!”, the SP queried. 

Presto, Padma ran inside and brought out another of Pranav’s suspenders and showed him. “Anything else?”, “Yes” replied duty conscious Pranav and he noticeably brightened “My Strap Shoes”. “What Strap shoes and what brand?”. This was wearing us down.

We were not able to fathom which was worst: losing our clothes or being interrogated for a long time. Sahithi was scared out of her skin. She kept hiding herself behind her mother. Her worst fears had come true. She was not at all perturbed about the lost clothes. She was petrified at the sight of the tough looking policemen.

“Mitu (Cute baby in Amharic)” said the SP. “You……….”. Before he could finish his sentence, Sahithi burst into tears. She was inconsolable. It took Padma quite some time to cajole her. Later over hot cups of Shai, the SP counselled us.

“You need to be careful. This is Bahirdar and people are very poor. Never hang anything outside in the open. Infact do not even keep anything in the verandah. Keeping or hanging things out is an invitation for the poor kids to come over and steal. You are asking for trouble”. He assured us that he would try his best and promised that one of his team members would keep visiting us in the future too. He said with obvious pride, “You are our guests and are here to teach us and make our country more literate and help us in development. We will take full care of you”.

Saying that, the police party left our house and we let out a collective sigh of relief. It was an ordeal by fire. To cut a long story short, we never again saw the light of our belongings. They were gone forever. But something very significant emerged out of the enquiry. The SP made scathing comments in his enquiry report about the very poor boundary wall between our house and Chidambaram’s and also about our woebegone ‘look at me with a frown and I will topple over’ front gate.

This prompted our house owner to build a solid nine-foot-tall concrete wall between ours and Chidambaram’s and also constructed a thick concrete front wall and fixed a solid metal door with a calling bell and a very secure locking system by the starting of our next contract. Talk about small mercies of life!!!.