Living in interesting times
The last week has been a case study of what living in a developing country can mean. After a couple of very pleasant farewell meals, we were suddenly surprised by the sound of gunfire right outside our house. At first we thought it was a firework as there had been a big wedding celebration going on all day, but it soon became clear that this was no joking matter. We had Raphael and Anthony in the house and Uday went outside to work out whether it was safe for Anthony to walk home. What we then heard was a series of explosive reports that turned out to be the sound of large stones being thrown at him but actually hitting our sheet-metal fence. He was pulled to safety by a neighbour and found himself sheltering with others from an angry crowd attacking the next door police station.
Meanwhile, as our house is set back from the road, we had no idea what was going on and Raphael and Manjula went searching for him in the compound completely unaware of the danger from a person or persons unknown hiding – with missiles – within the compound. It later transpired that the trouble flared when the wedding party (Bench and Christian) parked vehicles on the landing strip and the police (non-Bench?) and locals (many Muslim?) objected. Ethnic or religious tensions depending upon who you talk to. (to whom you talk = for purists)
The unknown is always frightening. Having got Uday home again, we put up the shutters, locked all the doors and nobody went home that night. There were police sirens and ambulances but I still don’t know exactly what happened. There was anger at the police for interfering in the wedding celebrations and the gunfire was from the police themselves against an attack by the angry mob with stones. The following afternoon we couldn’t make out whether the large gathering of people roaming up and down the air-strip was protesting or simply still celebrating the wedding. It’s all so peaceful again now but these tensions can flair up and escalate with alarming speed fracturing the apparently harmonious community.
Since then we ourselves have been fighting – against the inane bureaucracy of this institution. In order to leave in a tidy and orderly fashion they have created a marathon series of hoops for us to jump through. I thought the clearance letters were a problem but this bizarre party game procedure is completely incomprehensible. First get the signatures – IN THE CORRECT ORDER – of all 12 people who are never in their offices because they are all in the same meeting, together, talking to each other. These are the people who insist on the procedure and then make it completely impossible for people to follow it. Perhaps they have secret cameras following us as we constantly knock on locked doors whilst they chuckle at our obvious frustration?
Perhaps not – but it could be a test to see if we have developed true Ethiopian patience and willingness to waste time doing absolutely nothing. I have spent a whole day trying to get my allowance for 13 days – so long in fact that by the time I got my money they actually owed me 14 days. The process was as follows-clearing form completed to Finance to Vice President to Finance to Records for multiple stampings to Finance for carbon copies of handwritten record to Cashier to Finance to Cashier – and all this for the equivalent of about £40. I asked if the fourth copy of the clearance form was for the Queen but they didn’t appreciate the joke.
But today I completed everything including closing my bank account (why? because I am leaving the country, well that’s okay then) but Uday and Manjula have yet to get their flights home or their final salary so we have postponed the journey for a day. They did, however, manage to get all the household furniture transferred back to the stores so for tonight and tomorrow I am sleeping in a sleeping bag on the very hard floor of my empty room. I think I’m a bit old for all this.
Diana in Ethiopia 