The happenings of Wednesday October 30, 2024 moving from Caesarea, Israel to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia
Our journey to Tanzania began with a 3:00AM wake time in order to catch a 7:00AM flight to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Although we hadn’t planned on staying in Addis overnight, we welcomed the schedule change as an opportunity to explore the city for a few hours once we got there. Everything from waking up the boys to arriving in Addis went as smoothly as possible. Well, except for Amichai’s seat TV didn’t work on the flight. Since it was an empty flight for the most part, he changed his seat three times before finding a TV that did work!
We landed around 12:00PM local time and appreciated the agents guiding our family through the airport. Likely because we had four children with us, the agents invited us to skip the customs line so that we could get through faster. At customs we noticed that every booth had one man working with two women watching him. It was unclear if the women were learning how to be a customs officer or were there for some other unexplained reason. Or, perhaps this was the way the government ensured more people would remain employed.
Ethiopian Airlines provided a hotel with a bus transfer. We arrived exhausted and looking forward to napping in our room before going out. The hotel campus was large, however, our bus driver turned into what looked like a back entrance. Apparently transfer guests are not afforded the same level of accommodation as a regular guest. We entered the hotel through a security check and what seemed like back hallways that guests rarely use. Then, we were told to wait in a makeshift reception area with limited space to sit or stand given the number of people waiting to check in. Knowing it would be a while until we could check in, we left the area for a back area with more seating available. Some of the boys fell asleep while others read on their Kindles. After an hour, Chaim went to see if we could check in. Finally, exhausted and hungry we made it to our rooms and promptly fell asleep.
I was afraid the boys’ naps would be so long they wouldn’t be able to fall asleep that night so I woke them after an hour. As much as no one really wanted to get up, I encouraged everyone with a reminder that we needed to eat and we had a chance to explore. We made it to the main cafeteria where we found a few vegetarian items. I enjoyed injera, an Ethiopian staple with a spongelike texture and tangy taste. The boys had been so spoiled at Grandma’s house in Israel they refused to eat hoping they would find something more appetizing to them. If they kept this up it did not bode well for Tanzania.
Afterward, we explored the nicer side of the hotel. The nicer side was more than just nice. It was fancy. We were very clearly underdressed and did not have enough designer wear on us to even pretend to look like we belonged. I stopped at a concierge desk to ask if there was a shuttle we could take into town. He informed me we could hire a private driver. Since Chaim had to work that evening, I decided it would be good for the boys and me to go out and explore. I had read about the Mercato Market in Addis and travel blogs suggested it was a top site to see. In my mind, I envisioned a large market with plenty of foreigners and tourists meandering the streets or alleyways, checking out beautiful and unique goods at different stalls with merchants and clients haggling over prices as they do in this part of the world. I thought it would be a great experience for us.
Our driver’s name was Shamals. We became fast friends. He was excited to show me pictures of his family, tell me he was Christian, and inform me of his family who lived in the States. He also gave me his number so that he could be our tour guide the next time we came to Addis. Shamals wasted no time and dove right into politics, asking me who I’d rather have as president. Trump or Harris?
I evaded the question because I find most people have lost the ability to discuss politics without making it personal or launching into an attempt to justify their choice and inspire others to do the same. Without much prompting on my part, Shamals jumped into why he thought Trump was a better candidate. He was particularly fond of political leaders with strong, traditionally masculine approaches and told me he was a big Trump fan. He also surprised me with an impressive knowledge of Israeli history and a love of Bibi Netanyahu and Moshe Dayan. Clearly, he had a thing for machismo leaders. He was convinced that with Trump and Bibi in office, Iran would be defeated. I listened.
Just like the way he described why he liked Trump and Bibi, when I asked him why he didn’t want Harris, his answer said more about cultural expectations than anything else. Instead of giving me reasons related to her politics he simply replied, “She never had her own children. She doesn’t know how to make choices for a family.” Regardless of Harris’s politics, I don’t think this is a fair reason to think someone is unfit for office. However, I was not about to start arguing with a driver in a foreign country, upon whom I was depending to return us to our hotel safe and sound. When I asked him if he thought most of the country agreed with him, he gave me a very confident yes. I was dubious, but let it go imagining that, like in the United States, the answer was probably influenced by his social or political bubble.
As we drove toward Mercato Market and talked, Shamals kept pointing out different sites and ordering me to take pictures. I obliged even though these weren’t pictures I necessarily wanted. Like the travel books and websites I’d read, Shamals beamed with pride as he described Mercato Market as the largest market in Africa. He was excited to show us. I was excited to see it. We reached the market about thirty minutes before sundown. It was not at all what I expected.
Indeed, it was a shock to my system. First, it was Wednesday. Until we arrived, we had no idea that every Wednesday is market day. That means it is BUSY. The streets were crowded with cars, pedestrians carrying large items (such as mattresses and barrels!) on their heads in large quantities, people herding goats through the streets, people pushing pushcarts, donkeys and cows pulled handcarts through, and every inch of the ground was covered in trash, merchandise or goods, so much cloth, chatt, jewelery, food, rugs, shoes, and strangely a multitude of only white mannequins which I found odd. People were buying and selling everywhere we looked. Huge trucks that were too big for the street lined the streets and sidewalks as workers unloaded their goods. Dust clouds were everywhere. Traffic was almost at a standstill. Streetlights do not exist. The only light came from small fires for cooking street food. There was no semblance of any order that my western eyes could make out. It was the very definition of organized chaos.
The boys were enthralled by the people who carried an incredulous amount of weight on their heads. We could not understand how a single individual, who were obviously not very large, could balance over ten mattresses or fourteen barrels on his head.
After getting over my initial shock, I asked Shamals who lives here and who attends the market. He explained that mostly very poor, Muslim immigrants live in the area. According to him, these immigrants are fleeing even worse conditions in their home countries than what they experience in Addis.
When I asked if we could get out of the car to walk around, Shamals forbade it. “Foreigners do not walk here.” When we saw the only other white people strolling down the main road he shook his head and exclaimed, “Wow! They are very brave.” He also made me roll up my window except for when he thought it appropriate to take a picture of the scene before us. Then he would say, “Quick, quick. Don’t put your phone outside the car.” To be fair, as we inched our way through the market, numerous people, especially children, knocked on our windows to try and sell us something or ask for money. It felt wrong to tell the boys not to make eye contact or say hello. After all Chaim and I have worked so hard to instill in them the importance of greeting others kindly. Even harder since they were avoiding children.
Our entire drive was supposed to take about ninety minutes and we were supposed to be home just after sundown. By the time we emerged from the traffic hellhole two hours later it was pitch black and we still had a thirty minute drive home. About five minutes from the hotel Shai told me he had to go to the bathroom so badly there was no way he would be able to hold it in. Although we had reached the modern and much nicer part of town, we were still in heavy traffic. According to Shamals, peeing on the side of the road was not an option due to strict laws and police enforcement. He pulled over into a small driveway and instructed me to take Shai into a café to ask if he could use the toilet. Shamals promised to wait with the other boys in the car. I had to make a split second decision. Let Shai pee in this man’s car or leave my three other children in the care of a complete stranger so that he could use a toilet. Since the hotel had called Shamals I expected he would be trustworthy enough not to kidnap the boys. I prayed I was making the right decision.
Shai and I bolted out of the car to the café where they took pity on us and let him use the restroom. He went as fast as he could to minimize how long we were away from his brothers. My heart was racing and all I could think was “Please don’t let this be a mistake, Please don’t let this be a mistake.” When we exited the café I thought my worst fear had been realized. Shamals’ car was gone. I tried to stay as calm as possible while gripping Shai’s hand as we paced up and down the sidewalk where they should have been. I told myself he must have had to start driving again because of a traffic police and would be circling around. Shai thought it was rude his brothers would leave without us. Ah the naïveté of a child. Two minutes later I tried calling Shamals on Whatsapp only to realize I had never bought an e-SIM for Ethiopia because I had assumed I wouldn’t need it. There was no way to reach him.
Just as I thought about running back into the café to use their phone to call him, I heard him calling my name. I spun around to find him standing at the entrance of a very dark parking garage waving his hands in the air. Thank the Lord. I didn’t know if I was going to laugh or cry. I probably did both. When I got into the car Eitan, Amichai, and Matanel were laughing hysterically thinking they had just pulled off the biggest prank ever. Eitan asked me, “What did you think happened to us?!?” I tried to laugh it off in the moment, but when we were back at the hotel I explained that they almost gave me a heart attack. I had no idea how I was going to tell Chaim what happened. I will remain forever grateful that this is a story we will laugh about for many years to come.
