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After staying a few months in
Brussels with my children, last week I packed up to head for home-sweet-home, if
only for a short while.
Of course, home is just
another structure if there is no love and affection expressed within it -
sounds, sights or even smells of children and grandchildren. I tend to feel
empty without these attachments. Too old and naïve, perhaps, to consider
adopting the liberal individualism or greed as some are wont to do later in
life. The shared poverty of some communities could be a virtue in these
situations. Leaving that aside, let us take a ride to the airport.
As my son-in-law drove me to
the airport, mid-day early last week, I was engaged in some new thoughts and
long forgotten memories. Both sides of the wide road were reminiscent of the
Bole area in our capital.
Approaching from a distance,
the airport site looked foggy. I wondered why they built the airfield at such a
foggy place. Unbeknownst to me, it was the witty Belgian farmers (at the time)
who led the unsuspecting occupying German forces to construct the airfield at
the place known as Zaventem [some 11km to the northeast of Brussels].
The airport had started out as
a domestic airfield. Over the years, it had grown into one of the busiest
international airports in Europe with over 250 companies operational and a
workforce of 6,000 members.
Upon arrival, we saw a large
crowd of people at the lounge. Some were dressed up in suits while others were
clad in their national costumes. Many stood in groups chatting, giggling or
laughing and a few Ethiopians seemed to be there to see some friends off.
One of these approached me
with a broad smile of recognition and declared that he was able to identify me
by my trademark flat cap printed on this very page. He admitted that he used to
pester his friends to write him letters about life in Addis. Dissatisfied with
the way his friends wrote letters, he has been reading ‘View from Arada’ ever
since.
He feels well-versed with what
goes on in the capital from to the information he gets in this column. For him,
it is like reading a letter addressed to him personally. I can only hope that
the compliment was genuine.
As the hours ticked away, I
felt a bit apprehensive and tense, and why not? I no longer fancy flying over
9,000m in the air as I did during my childhood [in an airplane laden with tonnes
of freight and passenger capacity being completely full].
What we often see on TV
screens is only part of the story. The images of aircraft gliding through clear,
blue skies or the beautiful stewards and stewardesses smiling while serving
coffee and tea are only window dressing, if you will.
After the tearful farewell
with our children and the reassurance that my daughter would follow-up the
flight status on the Internet, we went back to the check-in routine. The luggage
is conveyed to the cargo department. Passengers line up and go to the plane to
take their seats and fasten their belts as usual.
I always find it hard to
understand why passengers feel greedy enough to pack excess baggage and then
feel nervous about the aircraft running the risk of being overweight.
When the plane took off, some
old recollections came to my mind.
As a schoolboy, I had always
wished to fly. Legendary figures like Captain Assefa, Captain Aberra, Captain
Alemayehu, Captain Medhane and Captain Mohammed were those we used to consider
role models. There was a general belief that the former high school students
from Wollega were born-pilots who had made names both for themselves and their
country.
The take-off from Brussels was
excellent, and the landing at Cairo International Airport after a four-hour
flight was unnoticeable. We had to wait two hours in transit at Cairo. We
arrived at Bole International Airport at dawn where I received a heartwarming
welcome by members of my family.
Later in the day, I managed to
get to Arada - the epicenter of the capital. If Addis Abeba City were an eye,
Arada would be the iris of the eye, if not the pupil.
There seemed to be no change.
The crowding taxis along with the city buses were still there and the hustle
and bustle of life was as palpable as ever. All around the square, thousands of
people could be seen moving in all directions. Beggars try to appeal to the
emotions of pious and generous people with each stanza of their rhythmic pleas.
Taxi assistants seemed to be
no less contenders for public attention. They were trying to snatch clients away
not only from other competing taxis, but also from expectant beggars who often
pestered passersby.
I remembered that the
construction of the present Arada Building had taken too long to complete. But
the Midroc building, next to it, is taking decades just to lay its foundations,
not to mention completion. Who knows if it will have a transition period where
it is left empty like the Nani Skyscraper at Meskel Square. Although it remains
shut up, the vendors are no fools as they sell all sorts of wares, making money
all day.
This reminds me of the old
Amharic maxim, “God closes the throat that He has opened.” Loosely translated as
“God satisfies the gullet that He has designed,” it simply means that God
provides for all his creations. There are vendors who peddle toilet paper [in
pieces] even if there are no bathrooms around. There are samosa stands as cups
of tea and coffee are sold from thermal flasks.
The pestering sounds of
vagrants and the ‘commercial barkers’ as the taxi assistants or the woyallas are
called, echoed in the vicinity. The thousands of people converging from all
corners of the city seemed to hum like swarms of bees.
To my right, I could see a
number of empty buses in yellow and red colours. Nearby, I caught sight of the
hundreds of young men and women trying to read vacancy advertisements posted on
vacancy boards.
There still seem to be plenty
of job opportunities despite the global economic recession affecting our
previous double-digit annual economic growth. It is interesting to note that
there are so many belts and wallets for sale and plenty of scales to check your
weight. Perhaps the moneymaking class chooses to put its money in wallets
instead of depositing it in banks and wants to check its weight every now and
then to avoid the dangers of obesity.
The area around Menelik
Monument is not only a traffic hub but also a place to just ‘be’ and spend time
in social pursuits. The very scenery of the melting pot is a manifestation of
the real sense of the word ‘freedom.’
The “Allahu Weakubers” from
the loudspeakers of Anwar Mosque and the “Hallelujahs” from Saint George
Cathedral were reflections of the harmony of the two major religions in the
country. Arada is just the right place to witness that. |
