The Wonderful Accidents of Travel (Unpublished)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.