My Time as a Journalist in Ethiopia

Working as a journalist in Ethiopia has brought me to the most remarkable places and has allowed me to meet incredible people.  I have reported from various parts of the country, most memorably so in Benishangul-Gumuz and the Wollo Highlands near Lalibela.  It has been a joy and I have gained a lot from it.

While I have relished the opportunity to write and travel almost without restriction, I have been unable to decide if a career in journalism is something for me. If I were a journalist, I feel that I would have to be some sort of travel columnist or commentator on the opinion pages.

What has irritated me in the past few months has been the overwhelming independence and the lack of knowledge/experience of what I am supposed to be doing anyways. First of all, as a journalist you have no schedule; there is only the deadline for your articles and any appointments you have made. This makes it difficult to find motivation to go out and do things, which brings me to my second point. While the aim of a journalist is quite straight forward (find stories and write about them), without any training or contacts it is difficult to find good things to write about. 

A lot of the time I relied on my creativity to put together my impressions and observations into a readable story. This is most evident in my last article, which may or may not be published tomorrow. Originally, I planned to meet my friend Julius so that he could show me the work his NGO has done. This would have made a relatively easy article to write as all I must do is put facts into sentences.  However, fate would have it different when some internal problems in the NGO would make it inadvisable for me to write about them. Since two other stories I had as back up didn’t work out either, I was forced to create something out of what I had observed on Entoto. However, as it turns out, the article might actually be better than anything I could have written purely about Julius’ NGO. As it happens, to turn something that is at first sight bland into something of interest to the reader is quite a stimulating challenge. It is in fact what I prefer to do over a more generic, explanation-of-fact based article. 

Only today did I meet Yacob Wolde-Mariam, a veteran journalist and editor of practically every English speaking Ethiopian newspaper since the early 50’s. He is 85 years old and and has lived through Italian occupation, Selassie’s Empire, the Dergue dictatorship and the current more democratic and development oriented regime. He speaks 5 languages (Oromo, Amharic, English, French and Italian) and has travelled to various parts of the world, including Germany, as a correspondent to international conferences and events. 

He still works passionately as ever as an editor of articles by coming to The Reporter every Friday to proof read all the articles that pass the preliminary check. He sits by the window on the desk diagonally across from me listening to music and in deep thought while he awaits the next article.  Once he has gone through them, he goes over the corrections with the respective journalist and then brings it to the next person responsible.  He also corrected my article and was pleased with it only giving a correction on Ethiopian history.

Yacob actually gave me a signed copy of his own book, “Brief Autobiography and Selected Articles”. Judging from the preface and one of those articles, I quickly determined some similarities between him and myself although he naturally claims a vastly superior wealth of experience and knowledge.  Rather than articles about restaurant openings or reports on events (which I am sure he wrote plenty of), they are what he calls “timeless”. This means that they can be read at any time without any reference to a specific moment in history such as an event. They are first person and generally criticize some point in society.  For example, the article I read was called, “Man, the inferior sex” which spoke against rampant sexism in the city of Asmara (current capital of Eritrea) and praised women.

Interestingly enough, Yacob began by studying engineering in Imperial College in London.  Yet he spoke of how German and French philosophy along with his love of literature overcame him and brought him to pursue a career in writing instead. It seems to have worked out!

With or without the guidance of this new mentor, I feel quite ready for my early morning departure tomorrow.  Although I now feel settled in this city and sad to leave yet another great group of friends, I am content and prepared to return to a land of reliable convenience. Of course, that is not to say that I would skip what is to come first.

The climax, or quite literally the ‘summit’, of my gap year is still to come.  Tomorrow I leave Ethiopia to fly further south to Nairobi, Kenya where I will meet my cousin Jacob and stay for one night. Then it is off to Northern Tanzania where the wilds of Serengeti, Ngorongoro and Tarangire await with the finish on Uhuru Peak, Mt. Kilimanjaro.

Full list of my published articles:

From Misery to Self-sufficiency
Ring in Addis' Shared Taxis
Down in Langano
The Historical Turnaround of the Gumuz
TESFA for Ethiopia
Where will you watch the World Cup Finals?
The Forgotten Mountain

The Wonderful Accidents of Travel (Unpublished)

A few of the articles I have written did not make it though editing to the final newspaper.  Of those, this piece on my experience in the Kuk Yelesh Maryam Church near Debre Birhan, Ethiopia is included. Enjoy!

17/07/14

 

The priest asked us to stand up and follow him through a dark curtain that revealed a pitch tunnel. I watched as the people in front of me were consumed by darkness and seemingly disappeared into an endless void as they entered.   It became my turn and, reminded of my childhood claustrophobia, I nervously let my fingers pass along the cold, stone wall of the tunnel as I listened to the soft footsteps of hundreds of pilgrims inch forward in silence. 

This is Kuk Yelesh Mariam, 10km outside of the unsuspecting town of Debre Birhan.  It is a bit of a hike getting here.  First, a bajaj takes you as far as roads allow when you must get off and make the rest of the trip on your feet.  It is perhaps another 2 or 3km along an uneven surface until the church.

Like many other rock-hewn churches, this one was hammered and chiseled out of the rock face of one of Ethiopia’s spectacular plateau drops. Built 22 years ago, it became the life’s work of a single man.  It is important to take shoes off and for all women to wear appropriate dress for church before entering the grounds. There are four churches on the premises, the most remarkable of which is to be found by walking around the hill, along a path built on the side of a cliff. Engraved red, yellow and green Orthodox crosses adorn the precipice while below them are the entrances to the caves.

I arrived on a Sunday afternoon at about 14:00 (8:00 Habesha) together with two friends. As I peered into the left church entrance I saw a large crowd of people seated closely together, eagerly listening to the priest holding mass. The priest stood in the middle of the cave where a curtain divides men and women.  Behind him the caves went on into three further openings hidden behind drapes. As I found a place to sit down I gave a quick wave to my friends sitting on the other side. The priest spoke for some time until the scene from above unraveled.

The blackness of the tunnel is total and absolute.  You are made blind. You do not know where you are going, how long you will be there or if the ceiling will begin to close in.  It is perhaps one of the closest sensations of your soul being lost and forgotten that can be created.

Indeed, the tunnel is symbolic of hell. It is an experience created for people undergoing difficulties in their lives and who seek spiritual support.  It is all the more cause for rejoice when the people round the last corner and light guides them out of the tunnel. The phrase, “follow the light!” is made into reality. You emerge into another cave where sunlight shines on pictures of Mary that embellish the walls.

A queue is formed that leads the crowd further into this new cave where a priest stands waiting.  In his hands, he holds a bundle of smooth, black rocks. He first rubs them across your face and then draws a cross on your chest with them.

With the priest’s blessing, the passage was complete. The crowd dispersed to go home or appreciate the other churches further down the cliff. The stairs zig-zag unceasingly below when at last, the path takes you to another cave where the entrance is protected by a roof painted in Ethiopian colors.  A crowd of people was sitting outside but as was the case previously, they were eager to show a foreigner what they were all here for and let me go in. 

The cave was filled with people but rather than being spoken to, they watched and listened as priests spoke to God.  Reading from Ge’ez scripture, priests nervously read pages and pages while holding a type of candle.  A higher priest sitting in a separate cave segment, removed from the crowd, intermittently corrected them on their pronunciation. Some of the readers had painted around their eyes in white adding a whole new mystique to an outsider such as myself.

I had no expectations before entering Kuk Yelesh Mariam. It had only been recommended as a site of one of Ethiopia’s rock-hewn churches.  I had come so close to skipping it out of exhaustion from the previous days’ travel and the danger of not getting the last bus to Addis Ababa.  All these concerns were taken away when I stumbled into the most magnificent manifestation of Orthodox faith I have seen so far. It seems as much as one can see this country, a new surprise lies around every corner. We walked away tired but content and made it back to the capital that night, in time for dinner.

My Trip to the Remote Benishangul-Gumuz

My journey to the far western Benishangul-Gumuz region was probably the height of my experience as a journalist in Ethiopia.  Being in such an isolated and obscure place was exactly what I was looking for when I chose to do this.  At home, when I watched or read about journalists reporting from these places in far off and poorly studied regions of the world the Tom Sawyer in me became filled with excitement. When I got the opportunity to do this, I simply couldn't refuse. 

Originally, I only planned to see Bahir Dar and Gondar with fellow volunteers when I set out from Addis Ababa on the 2nd of June.  This was the case until a Canadian man approached us asking where we were from - our various accents sparked an interest (French/Ethiopian, English, Dutch, German/Danish). As conversation ensued the Canadian man came to talk about what he was doing here. He was from a Canadian charity called devxchange that was funding a project in the 200km away Benishangul-Gumuz region with three others.  They told me how they had been there and how successful this project had been, how the cultural mindset of the people had been completely turned around.  This got me very interested and they agreed to let me write an article about it and gave me the number of Feru, the director of the project.  Feru showed particular interest, as I would be the first to write about his program in the 8 years of its existence.

Chines road construction

Still a lot left to pave!

The trip to the Gumuz is about 200km west of Bahir Dar but takes about 5 hours due to difficult road conditions. Only the first 100km are paved and on many dirt roads, maximum speeds only reach 30km/h. Currently, huge road construction is underway to pave the road all the way to the far off Great Ethiopian Renaissance Dam on the border to Sudan. This will eliminate a major logistical hurdle for the many truck drivers delivering materials there. All thanks to the Chinese of course. But despite the slow pace, the drive goes past such remarkable country side that it is really a good thing.  The contrast between the lush green and the freshly ploughed deep brown of the soil is spectacular. Heading closer to Sudan also brought us in a region of Muslim majority. In the town of Injibara, what will supposedly be the largest mosque in Ethiopia is currently being constructed. In what was perhaps some sly joke towards religious diversity a ranting Jehova’s witness also gave us some flyers. Of course these were more of a source of comedy than anything. It was however in this town that I began to feel the extent of how far away from anything I was going.  I felt like in whatever direction I could have walked, I would have experienced the same hopeless result.

Mountain separating Gumuz
from Amhara

Gumuz lowlands

The border between Benishangul-Gumuz and Amhara couldn’t be more geographically complete. A large and steep green mountain oversees the underlying Gumuz low lands.  There the oppressive heat and the lethal authority of malaria make the land nigh on inhospitable. It was of course tribal warfare that lead to this separation of these lands.  The militarily advanced and traditionally elite Amhara drove the Gumuz away and took over their territory.  The Gumuz have historically been enslaved to the Amhara and as such have been discriminated and kept on the edges of society and country as a backwards and neglected people. This illustrates only a fraction of the difficulty of uniting a country of 80 unique tribes all carrying their own languages and dialects.

Gumuz farmer Andargie

Gumuz farmer Gisa

It was well over 40°C when we reached the town we would stay at. For all my attempts to recall it, I can’t remember its name. It was a small town but growing due to its location on the way to the dam as well as a center for the urbanizing Gumuz. The hotel I stayed at was minimal but better than I expected. The rooms had toilets and even fans for the inescapable heat. Upon arrival we had lamb tibes (Pronounced t’ehbs (harsh T)) for lunch, which tasted alright-ish. That evening I found out that this was actually a trucker’s motel. Here passing truck drivers partied late into the night and brought prostitutes back to their rooms. Luckily I was so tired that my ears were spared of most of it. 

Lamb tibes

And suddenly.. hailstorm!

In any case, following an hour’s rest in our rooms, my investigative work would begin.  Feru introduced me to the model farmers I would interview and showed me their farms. What ensues is all in my article, “The Historical Turnaround of the Gumuz”. 

I was truly impressed with all that I saw. Feru has built a sustainable operation and the results were to be seen everywhere. In the way everyone greeted Feru as a close friend or the way farmer Andargie’s eyes gleamed with pride as he told me he is sending all 12 of his children to school.  While anthropological laments of the loss of their ancestral culture are real, I feel that this shouldn’t stop the way of progress, which is finally arriving. The people are poor, rely on deprived nutrition and suffer from preventable diseases. Who is to blame them if reaching a higher standard of living is followed by wearing western clothes and perhaps having a smoke now and then. Listening to Feru’s visionary plans for the future, I see great things coming from these people. The land they live on is extremely fertile; it only requires the necessary investment and belief to make things happen.

Me with the man himself, Feru