A night in Addis Ababa-Three incredible stories of kindness

Story #1: Mr. Patel
Here was the plan. Land in Addis. Get off the plane. Clear Customs. Take out 250 Birr (The local currency-about $20). Take a taxi into Addis to the Merkado (Africa's largest open market) if it was still open or to Bole Road (restaurant row) for dinner. Spend not more than 2 hours. Taker a cab back. Fly to Rome. (This makes for lunch in Uganda, Dinner in Addis, Breakfast in Rome...)

One thing to contend with-Catherine. Would she survive the jostling? I was trying to devise a way to have her baby sat while I was in the city. I mean, she is a three-foot tall wooden giraffe wrapped in plastic bags. Not exactly easy to travel with or inconspicuous.

I went to customs and the attendant was so nice. I was in the wrong line so he walked me to another window. That attendant sent me back to the first (a five hour lay over is a strange amount of time apparently). The first told me to go through the transit people and to ask if they would watch Catherine.

While in line, I met Mr. Patel. He was flying from Bombay to England on business and was worried about declaring the money he was carrying. Mr. Patel is a white-haired Indian business man with about 20 hours to kill in Ethiopia. He was trying to get his hotel voucher and we began chatting. Mr. Patel faired better than I did and got what he needed. I was told no for a transit visa and no for Catherine. I was standing in another line when Mr. Patel found me and told me he had been successful just as an agent was telling me if I left, I would need to purchase an actual visa. How much? $20...Well, I did not have it. I only had $12. For a moment, I thought my plan, my hope for seeing even just a minute of Ethiopia was dashed. Mr. Patel asked what was wrong so I explained my situation. He promptly opened his wallet and handed me the required funds. Please, how do I pay you back!!? When you can, if you can, send it here. He gave me a card and I wrote his US address down. I thanked him profusely and went to get my visa.

Story #2- Mohammed.
I cleared immigration and went to the ATM. It took a while to find it and a few tries with some people to determine exactly how much I needed. Finally, I got the amount and headed for the blinking yellow “ATM” sign.

It did not take my card.

I had $2 in US and a whole smattering of other funds from other countries all totaling about $4. Someone directed me back to the other side of immigration for the money change people there. I tried, quickly losing hope. I was on the wrong side of the Ethiopia border again...

The money guys could not help. I was so frustrated. What do I do? I have nothing...where do I go? The money man sent me to the Ethiopia Air agent. By the time I approached a small group of three men, well, I was in tears. I really wanted to not spend 5 hours in the airport in Ethiopia. I wanted to go and see and explore! What is wrong? They all asked. I explained. They looked at me, then at each other, and then one said, I will give it to you. What? But how will I pay you back? You will get money out there and when you return for your flight, you will pay me back. But what if I cannot find a an ATM that takes my card. Really it is alright. Just please, don't cry.

He took me to the Ethiopia Air office and handed me 200 Birr. I do not think it is enough he said. Wait one moment. He disappeared and came back handing me 100 more. (I swear, I am not making any of this up.) I had put Catherine down and he said, wait, where is your item? Oh my goodness!! I had put her down in the office and we had walked out. Would you like to leave it here? He asked. Could I? Would it be ok??? Absolutely. You will come back and get it.

And so, with hands free, a light heart, and 300 Birr, I took the recommendation of Fodor's Ethipoia, the In Flight magazine and Mohammed and friends to go to Bashera on Bole Road. They told me which cab to take and how much it should cost. I was off on the next part of the adventure.

Story #3: Alex, Abbaba, Peter, Raf, and Anthony
I arrived 8 minutes later at the restaurant. Where is it? I asked the driver. Back there, down that alley. Down the alley? Yup.

Ok....

So I stepped out, said hello to the guards and wandered back towards the load bass beat I heard wafting from the dark alley way. In the day time, this might not have felt so...back alley!! But in the dark, it was a little...well, let's just say, my mother would have been FREAKING OUT. Then I rounded the corner, saw the lights and the little sign that said, W'as UP?? And I knew I was fine.

The restaurant had live Ethiopian singing and dancing. The place was full of people,life, energy and noise. I was so happy just to be there. I could not believe my good fortune as I set down at my table for one. I asked the waitress if they had a sampler plate. Well yes, but it is for three people like that one. She pointed to the table next to me and the five men sitting there looked up. I explained why we were pointing and looking at their half eaten plate of food. The one Ethiopian of the group came over and tried arguing with the waitress on my behalf. The American sitting closest to me explined that he was their guide and was trying to strong arm her into taking care of me. No avail. What is best I asked. He pointed to one pile on his plate. The Ethiopian man said something else was best. I did not know what Iw ould order. Would like a taste? The American offered. No! I cannot eat your food...Are you kidding, came his reply, we're finished and look how much is left. Here, come and join us.

And so I did.

Alex, Abababa, Peter, Raf and Anthony were all working fair trade, organic coffee. Alex works for an organiziation promoting the goods. Abababa is their guide. Peter, Raf and Anthnoy are all Belgian business men in the coffee trade touring the plantations where their coffee comes from.

We all chatted over dinner and Ababa taught about Ethipian culture and customs. He and I danced the shoulder dance and I had honey wine. I also ate in the traditional manner-being fed by someone else and eating only with the right hand.

The food was delicious.

I had some intestines. Not bad. I liked the stuff Alex first pointed to the best.

None of this is ok for me to eat but this was a night I said, it's gonna hurt later, but boy is it wonderful now.

I was right.

After an hour which was all too short for such wonderful company, it was time to go. They insisted on covering my portion of the bill (they get to expense it any way and it is not like they ordered extra-they explained) and then insisted on bringing me to a cab to make sure I was safe on my way to Rome. There were jokes that they would join me in my suitcase.

Pictures abound, emails were exchanged, and off I went back to the airport.

I made my way back to Catherine but could not find Mohammed. I left him 200 of the 300 (I had spent 100 on the taxi fare) and a note in the place where he had set Catherine down. I hope he finds it. I will email later as soon as I can get on line.

And now I am at the gate waiting to board.

I feel truly blessed and in love with this culture. And I simply cannot believe what a night it has beeen.