Philip Rayner
Despite
breakneck economic regeneration, Addis Ababa retains many of its familiar
charms and frustrations
A busy market contains all the sights, sounds and smells of Addis Ababa. Photograph: Robert Harding World Imagery/Alamy
I am not
sure why I like Ethiopia so much. In part, I think it is the sights, sounds and
smells that are so evocative. Watching a blood-red sun beginning to set through
the haze that hovers over Addis Ababa, watching the black kites swoop between
the buildings, listening to the sounds of traffic, Ethiopian pop music and the
odd chicken or two, plus the smells of wood smoke, roasting coffee, cheap
diesel and something else, indescribable, but essentially African, I remember
why I like this country so much.
I am also
attracted by the people. In most Ethiopians there is a joy and optimism. They
believe that they are on the cusp of great things: becoming a middle-income
country, surfing the “knowledge superhighway”. Every state company and
organisation now has a vision and mission that they publicise. I noticed that
at Mekelle airport their vision was to become “the best airport in Africa”;
several Ethiopian universities share the vision to become “the best university
in Africa”. There is no sense of irony or scepticism: this is what they want to
do and they will try their best to achieve it – anything is possible, “God
willing”.
I am
returning after an absence of several years and catching up with old friends
like Solomon, who works in a private university. In many ways it all seems very
familiar: the same donkeys and goats roaming the streets, the shoeshine boys,
and people as friendly and chatty as ever.
However, the
area of Addis where I am staying has changed a lot. There is a two-track
railway being built down the middle of the main road; the central reservation
that used to divide the two lanes of traffic that had some trees, some shrubs
and a few men sleeping is gone. Many of the small family businesses, shops and
restaurants have either been knocked down or closed down due to lack of
business. All along the main road enormous buildings are being constructed and
Solomon tells me that he is worried about the infrastructure needed to support
them. Whether they become offices, colleges, hospital or shopping malls they
will need additional electricity, internet connectivity, water supply and
sewage but there is no evidence that these already over stretched services are
going to be upgraded.
Meskel
Square in the centre of Addis seems to have lost a lot of its glamour (if
that’s the right word); the railway carves through the air, at eye-level with
the stand where the leaders of the Derg used to stand to watch their military
displays. The artificial palm trees with the flashing lights and the giant TV
screen have gone. Now it seems to be a giant coach park.
I am off for
a stroll through the evening warmth, the dust and the rubble. I will probably
stop for a drink. A fresh squeezed mango juice? A freshly brewed macchiato?
Can’t decide!
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